#let's just say there were lots of car cries to that song

[insignem]

I'm definitely not the first and I won't be the last to say this but something about spending every single one of your formative years in small-town New England makes Noah Kahan just really hit hard.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

finding freedom

words: 4.2k

warnings: emotion abuse (not from rafe), potential physical abuse (again not from rafe), friends to lovers, brief violence, brief mention of fatphobia/readers body size, soft!rafe (but he still punches someone bc rafe is gonna rafe)

“can we please just not do this today?” you sigh, smoothing your hand down your freshly straightened hair, needing every strand to be set in place for midsummers tonight.

“i’m not doing anything, can you not be a bitch?” scott groans, fixing his tie in the mirror.

you sigh just quietly enough for scott not to hear. the start of your relationship was perfect. he never called you names or hurt you’re feelings, but that changed quickly, and now you’re numb to his insults. you love has faded into nothing, feeling like you’re more of a glorified maid than an actual girlfriend.

“i just don’t want any problems at midsummers tonight.” you say. “the whole town will be there.” at least everyone in the town whose approval you care about.

“i won’t start any problems if you don’t.” scott says, walking out of your shared bedroom. you never should have agreed to move in with him so quickly, but you were getting tired of your parents overbearing nature, only for them to leave for florida permanently a month after you moved out, giving you no other option on where to live.

you check your teeth for lipstick in the mirror once more before following him out.

you ride to the country club in silence, scott staring at the road ahead while you gaze out the window, eyes turning glassy as you slip out of focus like you have more and more lately.

you arrive at the celebration, knowing scott won’t open the door for you. he hasn’t in weeks. you step out, adjusting your dress that had ridden up from being sat down in scotts sports car.

you walk side by side with scott, instead of hand in hand. you wonder if people even know that you’re a couple. if they would ever suspect it when you certainly don’t act like it.

“what do you want to drink?” scott asks, already eyeing the bar.

“i don’t want anything.” you say, hoping that will stop scott from drinking too early as well, but instead he walks away, leaving you alone.

“hey.” a familiar voice purrs out as you turn around quickly.

“rafe!” a smile spreads across your face as you see one of your oldest friends. he quickly wraps you in a tight but still appropriate hug.

“no scott?” rafe asks, looking around hopefully.

“he’s um… already at the bar.” you laugh gently, feeling the awkward tension rise already. scott loves to have you all to himself, which caused you to lose touch with a lot of your friends, even rafe who you used to see at least every other day.

“already.” rafe hums out, words stinging.

“yeah, i should probably catch up with him…” you trail off, walking away leaving rafe looking at you with evident disappointment. 

you find scott amongst the crowd, but don’t bother making your way towards him as you spy kelce and his sister sat at a table in the corner.

“hey!” you smile and take the open seat.

“girl, its been so long! where have you been?” kelces little sister asks. 

“uh-” you’re about to make something up, when thankfully kelce saves you.

“oh shit, i love this song!” he hops up from his seat, chair clattering against the sun bleached hardwood. “dance with me, y/n?”

“yeah, sure.” you take kelces hand, happy that you seem to have slipped back into your natural rhythm as you dance, his hand high up on your waist to avoid any cries of indecency by the other attendees.

you dance with kelce through a couple songs before being passed off to one of his friends you don’t know very well, but you’re happy all the say, laughing as the crowd of younger folk grows as the songs shift more modern.

“y/n, can i have your next dance?” rafe asks, scooping you away from your current partner with ease.

“of course.” you feel your cheeks blushing unwillingly from the way he holds you close to his chest.

“babe, lets go home.” scott suddenly appears next to you.

you take an obvious step away from rafe, putting distance between your bodies for both of your sakes. “i’m not ready yet.” you say, attempting to keep your voice soft.

“well i am. so come on.” scott grabs your forearm, pulling you away.

you manage to look back at rafe as you get dragged towards the door. “sorry.” you mouth, hoping he doesn’t rush after you and cause a scene, even though you can see the anger on his features.

scott finally lets go when you’re out the door as you follow him across the parking lot towards his obnoxious bright yellow sportscar.

“give me the keys.” you say.

“i can drive.” scott says, waving you off.

“you are drunk!” “i said i can drive, woman!” scott shouts at you, ripping open the drivers side door and depositing himself in front of the wheel.

“then im not going with you!” you yell.

“fine, stay here for all i care!” scott slams the door shut and doesn’t even glance back at you as he backs out of the spot, wheels squealing as he leaves the parking lot.

“fuck.” you curse, heading back towards the country club. you make it to the front step before you even realize that you’re crying, tears escaping down your face. you quickly brush them away, hoping kelce or maybe topper or sarah can give you a ride home.

you take a minute to calm yourself before stepping back in, the atmosphere so different to how you feel inside.

you see rafe stood in front of the window to your right, clearly watching everything that went down in the parking lot.

“rafe-”

“are you okay?” he questions, head tipping forward, staring at you with intense eyes.

“i-” you clear your throat, holding back the tears as you force a smile on your face. “of course im okay.”

“i see the way he treats you. its wrong.” 

“we’re fine.” you shake your head, voice as loud as you can make it without cracking, yet still a whisper.

“do you want to spend the night at tanneyhill? the guest bedroom is open for you always.”

“i-i guess that would be fine.” you shrug. “just cause hes drunk. he… he isn’t drunk often.” its a bold faced lie, yet you still tell it, covering for your boyfriend and dampening the anger still sketched across rafes brow.

“mhm.” rafe leads you back outside. he doesn’t talk to you for the ride back to tanneyhill, but it doesn’t feel the same as the oppressive silence that fills the car whenever you’re with scott.

“thank you. i’ll leave in the morning.” 

rafe just nods.

--

you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at scott. “well?” “well what?” he questions, throwing his hands in the air.

“you really don’t know what today is?” 

“no, and you won’t tell me!”

“forget it.” you push yourself off the bed. “i’m taking the jeep.” you call out, not bothering to tell him where you’re going.

you’re not even sure at first as you drive around before you ultimately decide to drive towards the tennis courts. you have none of your equipment, but you can at least sit in the stands and watch others play as a way to pass the time.

“what are you doing here on your birthday?” 

you let out a squeal in shock, almost closing the door on yourself. “rafe! you scared the shit out of me!” “sorry.” he holds his hands up, wide smile on his face. “but seriously, you’re playing tennis on your birthday?”

“scott forgot.” you blurt out. “so… i was just kinda driving around aimlessly.” you shrug.

“well, let me take you out then birthday girl. lunch?” you realize after rafes suggestion how hungry you are and nod quickly.

rafe takes you out to your favorite restaurant, immediately telling the waitress it’s your birthday and you’ll be having dessert first, making you giggle and roll your eyes as an ice cream sundae is brought out for you to share.

“hey.” rafe says, bringing you back to the tennis courts to pick up your car now that the sun has set, having spent the entire day together. “i got you a present.”

“really?” you gasp. “rafe, you didn’t have to!” 

“you’re my friend, its no problem.” he shrugs, reaching into the backseat and handing you a thin wrapped box.

“oh my god, thank you.” you reach across the center console, pulling him into a hug before ripping into the colorful paper, eyes widening when you realize what you were just gifted.

“absolutely not, its too much!” you lift up the beautiful gold bracelet, stone embellishments inlaid into the pattern.

“come on, you deserve something beautiful today. let me help you put it on.” rafe doesn’t give you any time to argue, taking the bracelet and slipping it around your wrist, fingers gently touching your skin as he clips it.

“i-i seriously can’t thank you enough.”

“all i want in return is for you to be happy.” rafe says, looping your fingers together. 

you squeeze them back, holding back your tears as you mutter a goodbye, promising to call rafe soon before heading back home to scott. any time you feel upset on the ride back, you just look at your gift and think of rafe.

“you still don’t know?” you call as you enter the house.

“it’s your birthday.” scott appears from the living room, handing you a gift bag.

“are you serious?” you follow him deeper into the house as he flops back onto the couch, eyes on the television.

“i got you a gift, what more do you want?” scott groans.

you can’t help but laugh, a mean, bitter laugh as you look into the bag. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” it’s an eyeshadow palette with a $2.99 sticker on it. you don’t care about the cost of gifts, but this is clearly something he just picked up from the dollar store with zero thought.

“its makeup. you like girly shit.” scott shrugs.

“yeah, thanks.” you say sarcastically, throwing the bag onto the coffee table as you stomp away. you hear scott following you, and you almost make it into your room before his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back towards him.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he shouts.

you want to yell back, want to scream in his face and let go of all your rage, but as his hold tightens on your wrist, you don’t dare to speak up.

“i tried to get you something you liked.” he reasons.

“i know.” by some sick standards, he did.

“i can give you something else you like.” scott guides your hand to his crotch, placing it there before you snatch your hand back.

“i’ve got a headache.”

“of course you do.” scott rolls his eyes, walking back down the stairs without another word.

--

“you could have at least asked me before you agreed to dinner.” scott says, changing out of his sweatpants into an old pair of jeans.

“you don’t have to come.” you shrug, adding the bracelet rafe gifted you last, your favorite accessory to every outfit, no matter how casual. “its just gonna be rafe, topper and kelce.”

“of course im coming. you think im going to let you go out to eat with three men without your boyfriend?” “do you not trust me?” you raise an eyebrow.

scott just shrugs, and leaves his answer at that, grabbing his car keys as you follow behind.

you’re the last one to arrive, a small apologetic smile on your face as the boys see scott following right behind.

the waitress comes to get everyones drink orders now that the party is complete. you order a lemonade, with scott getting himself a beer, as usual. you notice rafe gets just a cold glass of water, his eyes meeting yours from his spot across the table.

“alright, what can i get yall to eat?” the waitress pulls out a notepad and pen.

everyone orders for themselves until it gets to scott. “ill have the stake, medium well. she will have a side salad.”

you furrow your brow, you never talked about wanting a salad beforehand. “um, actually i’ll have the chicken parm.”

the waitress glances between the two of you before nodding and scurrying away.

“god, you’re getting so fat.” scott says under his breath, yet you still clearly hear.

you wait a few minutes, attempting to listen to whatever sport kelce and topper are going on and on about, when the urge to cry becomes too overwhelming and you have to excuse yourself, walking towards the bathroom before slipping outside.

you are leaned up against the exterior of the building, chest rising and falling as you attempt to control all the feelings you have building inside of you.

“why don’t you say anything to him?” 

“god, rafe.” you place your hand on your chest. “you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“i heard what he says. i see the way he treats you, and i can’t just sit back and watch that happen.”

“what am i supposed to do?” you look up at rafe in desperation.

“break up with him.” he says simply.

“we live together. i-i have no place to go. this is a small island, and we have mutual friends. i can’t just walk away and never see him again.

“so how long are you going to put up with it? because i am seconds away from smashing his face in.” rafes fist clenches in anger, like hes visualizing punching scott this very moment.

“i… i’ll do it today. at home so i can get my stuff then i’ll go to a hotel-”

“tanneyhill. you’ll come to tanneyhill. i told you, the guest bedroom is always open for you.”

“thank you, rafe.” you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, allowing the minutes to stretch by as he holds you.

“lets get you inside, yeah?” 

you nod, allowing rafe to lead you back into the restaurant. scott has a suspicious look in his eye but stays silent.

--

“we need to talk when we get home.” you say, scotts foot pushed down on the accelerator as he speeds home.

“what is there to talk about?” he questions.

“just some things i want to get off my chest.” you leave it at that, returning to the silence you’ve come to know well.

you can barely wait until you’re through the door before the words spurt out. “i want to break up.”

scott stands there with a blank expression, causing you to doubt whether you actually verbally said anything. 

“i want to break up.” you repeat.

“no.” scott says, face flushing with anger.

“what do you mean no?” you question.

“is this because i called you fat? well, im sorry for that. i just think you could lose a little weight.” scott throws his hands up in the air like he’s the victim.

“i just can’t take this anymore. i’m not happy. you’re not happy. why are we torturing ourselves?” “you’re not leaving.” scott takes a step closer to you. “i won’t allow you to fucking leave.”

“scott, please.” you shake your head.

“you’re mine!” he yells, bursting forward to grab your shoulders, pushing you against the wall as you let out a shriek.

your eyes closed, accepting that this is the time. this is when you will be hit. you just hope it doesn’t break anything as you wait for your fate, but it never comes.

your eyes open to see rafe burst through the door, immediately accessing the situation and shoving scott away from you.

“what the fuck!” he shouts, charging towards rafe, but it's no use as rafes fist rises and meets his nose, knocking him onto the ground and out cold.

“are you okay?” rafe wraps you in his arms as your body crumbles, holding you up like your weight is nothing as you sob.

“i-thank you.”

“i’ve got you. come on, lets go get your stuff. im taking you to tanneyhill.”

you nod, in a haze as you gather up your belongings, leaving behind anything that can be left as you get just the essentials, rafe helping you carry them out, even as you step around scotts still body, lying on the floor. you check to make sure his chest is rising and falling, and then don’t look at him again.

--

“ive never seen you so happy.” sarah laughs as you flit around the kitchen, making the biggest breakfast you can for the entire cameron family. eggs prepared in every way, toast, waffles, pancakes, anything and everything. it’s really all for rafe, your savior.

“what is there to be upset about?” you shrug. “i’m single!”

“and youre spending lots of time with rafe again.” she eyes you up and down as your hand shakes slightly pouring a glass of orange juice for wheezie.

“shut up.” you whisper, but the smile doesn’t drop from your face, especially as rafe enters the room. you transformed in the night, the shackles of scotts emotional abuse finally falling away, allowing your true self to reappear.

“im taking you out to dinner tonight, y/n.” rafe says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“you haven’t even had breakfast yet and you’re already thinking about dinner?” you laugh, shoving a plate full of his favorites into his hands.

“to celebrate.” he shrugs. “maybe i’ll convince top to throw a party.”

“ugh, i really don’t want to be around drunk people.” you admit. you want to celebrate, but preferably without alcohol at least for a month. rafe just nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking a seat at the island next to sarah.

“after you’re done eating, you can help me look for an apartment or a condo.” you tell rafe. “maybe i could ask ward about-”

“you know you don’t need to be in a rush to leave, right?” rafe interrupts you.

“yeah, but i don’t want to take advantage.” you shrug.

“you’re not.” rafe says, that serious, intense look back in his eye.

“okay.” you nod, soft smile on your face as he takes a bite of his waffle. you turn back to the stove as the timer goes off.

“oh, and maybe we could look for some place to move in together.” you glance back at rafe as he speaks, not caring that your bacon is getting crispier and crispier. “probably time for me to leave the nest anyways… and there’s no one i’d rather live with than you.”

--

“gosh, y/n, you can talk about something else.” rafe laughs as you launch into another discussion about what kind of house or condo you could move into together, what features you’re looking for and renovations you want to avoid.

“i’m excited!” you whine, taking another bite of your food.

“its cute.” rafe says, making you almost choke as you take a quick sip of your water.

“i just really can’t wait to live together. it’ll be so refreshing after…” you don’t need to say his name, not so soon after. 

“of course.” he nods. “do you want dessert?” rafe asks, seeing the waitress walking over.

“maybe we could split a hot fudge cake?” 

“here’s another water, sir.” she winks at rafe, handing him another glass even though his is not even half empty. “and can i get you anything for dessert?” she leans down, feigning to be reaching into her apron for her notepad, but is clearly just showing off her chest.

“one hot fudge cake, two spoons.” rafe barely pays attention to her as she scribbles it down and walks away disappointed.

“well, she’s bold.” you huff, glaring at her back until she rounds a corner.

“jealous?” rafe smirks, making your eyes widen.

“i never said that!”

“mhm.” rafe takes a sip of his new water. “don’t worry, you’re cute when you’re jealous too.”

--

“really, thanks for this topper.” you smile, accepting his hand as you step onto his family yacht, taking you and a couple friends, of course including rafe, out for a day on the water.

“just happy to have my friend back.” he says. you feel so lucky to have such amazing people surrounding you, supporting you after your breakup and not holding the way you treated them while in your relationship against you.

you take a seat next to rafe as topper begins to pull the boat away from the dock, allowing your eyes to close and head to rest against rafes shoulder as you feel the sun warm your skin.

you lay like that until topper navigates the yacht into deeper waters for everyone to jump off and swim. you hang back for a moment, watching everyone throw in floating pads or inner tubes as you smile, feeling more relaxed than you have in months.

“ready?” rafe asks.

“oh, yeah.” you pull off your coverup and jump into the water, laughing when you come up as rafe cannonballs right next to you.

you spend the next couple of hours in the water, only getting out to dive right back in. you swim around with rafe, but manage to break away from his attention to talk to your other friends for a bit as well.

your stomach rumbles as topper calls for lunch, having packed sandwiches into the fridge in the yachts kitchen before you left. you sit on your towel on the deck, rafe bringing you back a sandwich and bag of chips as everyone begins to talk.

you watch happily, content to sit back and just be in the moment. you tense up slightly when topper brings out a cooler of drinks, relaxing only slightly when you realize it’s only enough for everyone to have one or two beers or white claws and no one will be getting plastered.

“wanna head back in the water?” rafe asks when you're finished.

“actually…” you look at one of your friends screaming as kelce scoops her up and jumps into the water with her in his arms. “wanna go lay on the sundeck?” “yeah.” rafe follows you away from the crowd until you reach the large white cushions and spread yourself over them, arching your back and stretching.

rafe sprawls out next to you, but turns himself to the side so he can look at you.

“i like you, y/n.” he says.

“i-” its so sudden, so forward, yet so rafe.

“you don’t have to say anything back. but you should know, especially if we are buying a place together.” you nod slowly, taking in his words. “i like you. and i want to kiss you.”

you just nod, a smile spreading across your cheeks as rafe moves closer, placing his hand on your cheek as he leans down, lips pressing against yours.

you’re elated for a moment, until your nose catches the smell of alcohol and you freeze, realizing there’s still the sticky sweet taste on his lips as you’re suddenly transported back to feeling what it’s like kissing scott.

you pull away suddenly.

“i’m… shit. i’m sorry.” rafe stands quickly before you can even process.

“wait!” you call out, legs feeling like jelly yet you force them to work, standing as you rush after rafe, but by the time you reach the main deck, hes taken off on one of toppers jetskis, heading towards home.

“what happened?” topper asks, seeing the tears in your eyes.

“we-we kissed and-” you let out a sob. “i got a flashback of scott because of the beer smell and i pulled away and-” another sob racks through your body. “he thought i was rejecting him but… i love him topper! i need to go and find him and tell him and-” “calm down, okay? you can’t do anything in this state.” topper places his hands on your shoulders, moving you to sit in a chair.

“everyone back on the boat!” he yells, his tone unusually authoritative as everyone scrambles to get the floaties back into the boat.

the yacht moves faster than you thought possible as topper races back, knowing how important this is to you, and to rafe. he’s not going to let his friends miss out on true love just because of a misunderstood trauma response.

thanks to the slow jetski, you reach the dock only a minute after rafe. you’re off the boat and running after him before the lines are even secured.

“wait!” your feet slap against the wood until you reach rafe, grasping his wrist and pulling him to face you.

“just-” rafe sighs. “let me go, y/n. you can stay at tanneyhill of course just… i don’t need you to reject me again.” “let me explain!” you shout, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i wanted to kiss you, i swear. i just smelled the beer on you, and i got a flashback to scott. i got freaked out, it had nothing to do with you. im just… still recovering.”

“shit.” rafe groans, head tipping back at he stares at the sky for a moment, collecting his anger. “i’m so fucking stupid. of course you need more time, you just left him a couple days ago.” “no im… i like you too rafe. i know i need to heal, but i want to do that with you. i love you.”

rafes face turns briefly to one of confusion before a smile takes over. “im going inside to go use toppers mouthwash real quick then im coming back to kiss you. don’t move.”

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 31 || The Breakdown (continued)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO LEFT YOU WITH a lot to think about.

Before doing so, he dropped you off at your apartment after a passionate and almost final makeout session in the car lot just outside your apartment...

You knew it was your last time kissing Gojo.

It just felt like it. Like the final kiss of a romance film, Gojo's hands were so gentle against your body, his lips slipping and sliding over yours sensually and his tongue getting lost in your mouth. You'd hum into him and he'd moan lightly, the kiss lasting long enough to fog up his car windows.

Even then, it still took some time for the two of you to stop. It felt like another forty-minute make-out but in reality, the two of you sat outside kissing for an hour and a half.

He was so addicting, you felt so light and loved under his touch, allowing all your confliction to dissipate as he sucked and licked at your lips.

You don't even remember why you let him kiss you again but as soon as the car was parked, the soft sound of the radio quietly playing some R&B songs filled your ears and the two of you gave each other a look. Did he ask to kiss you or did you ask him? You have no clue.

All you know is that when your lips connected, they hardly ever parted. Gojo would whisper 'I love you' into your mouth every chance he got, refusing to let you forget that fact. You were still wondering why he sobbed earlier that night but the questions were forced into the back of your mind-- you'd get them answered in some years apparently.

When his lips finally peeled away from yours, a wet smack filled the car and Gojo had a bit of drool slipping out the corner of his mouth-- showing just how sloppy the kiss had been. You smiled and wiped his face off with your thumb, to which he grinned.

Gojo had this almost dazed and fucked out expression plastered across his handsome features. Meanwhile, you had a look of satisfaction.

The two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes, uncertainty, doubt, regret, love, passion, and a surplus of other emotions floating in the air between you two. It was easy for you to get lost in his eyes, easy for you to forget all he's done to you for a moment.

Hell, you could even picture what life would've been like for you if he'd stopped the list months ago. Perhaps the two of you would've dated, maybe you would've fallen for him and maybe the two of you would've lived happily ever after like some twisted fairytale.

But, instead, the two of you live in this twisted and awkward time where fate and reality have set all the pieces in place for you to hold nothing but hate in your heart for him. Even so, you reject holding only such an ill emotion-- never will you be able to look into Gojo Satoru's eyes the same after the day you've spent with him.

Something is wrong.

You don't know what it is and you probably won't ever find out but knowing that simple fact deters you from holding only ill intent.

"Can I uhm... say one last thing before you go up?" Gojo whispers, breaking you out of your thoughts.

Your faces are still close to one another and you nod your head.

"I cried like that because I've been feeling a lot of regret lately," He explains. Is he opening up to you right now? "I don't want you to pity me for it or feel sympathy for me because, trust me, I don't deserve it-, I don't deserve you."

"Satoru, how can you tell me not to sympathize with you after all that?" You ask, your voice filled with this sweetness and tenderness that he feels himself fall for even more, "I can't ignore-"

"I need you to." He says sternly, "Ignore it. I can't fix what I've done, sweets. A-And I'm not gonna try to. You're meant to be with someone who makes you unyieldingly happy and that will never be me." He sighs, brows tensing.

He looks so utterly distraught.

You can even tell he's trying to keep himself together, "Even if I explained it all to you and you were to somehow catch feelings for me and want to choose me over Choso, I-"

"Whatever you're about to say, you don't know that." You cut off, "You can't predict the future Satoru, any scenario you play out for me is nothing but an educated guess of what may happen but you truly don't know what'll occur if you just tell me the damn truth."

"The truth will undo everything I've worked for so far," Gojo claims.

You sigh heavily, "What does that even mean?"

"It won't make you happy, that's what I mean," He clarifies, "I can't make you happy, sweetheart. I wish I could but I can't. And the truth?" He scoffs a little, "Once I explain that all of hell will break loose."

"Satoru it can not be that bad, you're being dramatic-"

"I'm not." Gojo cuts off, his eyes deadly serious, "When you get the truth, I think you'll understand me but you definitely won't forgive me."

Your eyes narrow and you tip your head to the side, "Why don't you just tell me and find out, what's stopping you?"

"Fear." He claims.

For some reason, the slight shake in his voice brings that very emotion to you. Fear? What could Gojo Satoru have to fear?

You blink, "Of what-"

"Everything." Gojo says, his voice a tad bit louder, "I don't want to go down that path at all. I just want you to finish the list and go be with the man you love."

Do you even love that man? It's such a strong word... Maybe if Gojo had said what he just said a few weeks ago you would've said you loved Choso but now... Well, you haven't talked to him and even though he plagues your mind and heart often, you almost feel as though your feelings have faded.

That would probably change if Choso sent you even one text but the distance he's drawn between the two of you is solid. He made it very clear that unless you want a relationship, he doesn't want you around him. Choso feels so strongly around you that it hurts him to be in your presence and not be your boyfriend-- he explained that to you.

And naturally, you admire the way he avoided that toxic situation. But... it's also created some heafty dissipation of your feelings. Obviously, you think about him all the time but not talking to him does make you feel conflicted.

Do you love Choso? Do you like him? Is it just a crush? Has this one day with Gojo changed the way you think about everything and now you're sitting here confused about who you want and why you want them? Have you forgotten everything you've experienced with either man?

Choso made you happy beyond belief and Gojo has only brought you confusion.

But, Choso was also so much of a green flag that you were blind to his red ones. And Gojo was so much of a red flag that you didn't see the white one he held behind his back.

You remained quiet for too long and Gojo tilted his head at you, "Do you not?"

"H-Huh?" You stammer, breaking away from your mind.

"Do you not love Choso?" He asks.

"I don't know." You whisper.

The confusion of it all has officially gotten to you. You don't know anything anymore.

Gojo raises a curious brow, "Is it because you haven't seen him in a while?"

Your brows furrow, "N-No-"

"Winter break is just a month away," He tells you, "Maybe you should try to see him during that time."

A slight chuckle escapes your lips and you sigh, "It seems like you want me to get with Choso more than I want me to get with Choso."

"He makes you happy in ways I can't." Gojo points out, shrugging casually.

You scoff and words leave your lips faster than you intend them to, "That's not true."

"Sweetheart, I'm using you." Gojo emphasizes, "Stop forgetting that. Y-You..." He struggles to get this part out but he knows he has to. He has to create that distance between you and him, "You're nothing more than a t-"

"Don't." You cut off, shutting your eyes as your expression sours, "Don't you dare say something you know you'll regret even more, Satoru. C'mon now, we've been doing pretty good thus far but if you call me a fucking tool that's gonna fuck it all up-"

"That's what you are for me though." He cuts off. The claim didn't even sound right leaving his lips. His ability to be an asshole toward you has faded entirely.

"No, it's not." You argue back, opening your eyes and seeing his head turned away from you.

He swallows "Yes, it is-"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm nothing more than a tool for you, then." You challenge, your gaze unwavering, "If that's the truth, look at me and say it."

Gojo struggles, refusing to meet your gaze, "You're-"

"I said look at me, Satoru." You emphasize.

He does, very slowly. "You... are nothing more... than a..." Gojo trails off, staring so intently into your eyes, losing himself, his mind, his breath, all of it as he can't even finish his statement properly.

"That's what the hell I thought," You utter, "Stop trying to make me hate you when I don't have to."

"You're supposed to," Gojo claims.

You don't know what that means. You don't know what any of it means. When will the confusion end? When will it all make sense? When will you get the chance to have a clear and focused mind??

A simple and unrelaxed sigh leaves you, "Okay."

"That's it? Just okay-"

"I don't know how to feel right now, Satoru." You huff out, turning away, "I don't understand anything and I hate not understanding shit. I don't know why you do the things you do, I don't know if I love Choso, I don't know if I still hate you, I don't know anything!" You rant, "I have so many fucking questions. There's too much going on and too little being explained to me and I can't take it anymore."

"I'm sorry, I really am-"

"That's all you ever are. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry, when does it end Satoru?" You whine, so beyond tired of it all, "When do I get to understand? When are you going to stop keeping me in the dark so that I can help you?"

"You can't help me," Gojo claims.

You grit your teeth, "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." He argues.

"Earlier, you said we're the same. I didn't know what you meant, and I still don't but, if that's the case then the only person that can help you is me so, god damnit Satoru, let me in. Open up to me for fucks sake!"

He's like a damn wall, something that even you, his literal weakness, couldn't get through. Nothing you say will make him reveal the truth to you.

Gojo says your name in a chillingly calm tone, his eyes going all dull again, "I'll let you in when the time is right-"

"When?! When will the time be right?? When are you going to let me help you?"

"That's the fucking problem!" He snaps so suddenly that it almost frightens you. Just like that morning, it's another random outburst of anger, "That's why I'm in this damn mess, b-because of you. Y-You and your fucking kindness. You should hate me right now but here you are too busy trying to help me? To fucking understand me?"

"How can I not? This is your second time getting upset with me within the past twenty-four hours and you fucking cried into my arms! Am I really expected to ignore that?"

"Yes! About two months ago, you were hellbent on hating me but just because I shed some damn tears you're ready to fucking baby me? I don't need that from you, I don't need anything from you." He's so clearly rambling by this point, not even realizing what's coming out of his mouth, "I just want you to keep hating me like you always do." He continues, his voice angered to mask his hurt.

You go quiet for a minute and just listen to him.

"Stop trying to figure me out like I'm some damn puzzle. There's no problem for you to solve here; I need you to fuck people, not care about me. I need this list cleared, I need it to all just be over." He spits out, his voice wavering at the end, "T-That's all I need, sweetheart. Stop tryna' understand me, just finish the fucking list and let it be over-"

"Gojo Satoru," You cut him off, the use of his full name making him freeze. His mouth shuts like a trained dog and he feels as though his blood just ran still. "I'm not gonna stop trying to understand you because I'm in this mess with you, whether I like it or not. I've been paying attention to you all day, y'know that right?"

He simply shrugs, too frozen to even speak anymore.

You take a deep breath, calming your heightened nerves, "Even a blind man could see that something happened that triggered you recently. You've never blown up on me or broken down on me like today. And, dare I say, I think it was something from Sukuna's party that started all this."

He swallows, hard.

"Were you the one that called the cops?" You question.

"N-No," His voice is shaky but not because he's lying. He's nervous. "That uh, t-that was some guy who was pissed about getting knocked out, I think."

"Okay, so what happened while we separated, Satoru? Because you've been snappy and emotional ever since. First, you cursed me out about calling myself a whore, then you cried when I said I love the way you kiss me, and now you got mad at me because I want to understand and help you. So tell me, what happened?"

"...Nothing." He mumbles.

You stare at him with this look in your eyes, deciding to give him one last chance to tell you because you're so beyond tired of the stress his answers and mood swings are bringing you, "Are you sure? If you don't tell me now... I'm going upstairs. Then, I'm gonna finish the list and I'll go on with my life without caring anymore."

"I-I..." Gojo's heart sinks, the moment presented to him so perfect.

"This is your last, and final, chance to open up to me. Speak now," You sigh, "Or forever hold your peace."

His eyes soften, "I can't tell you."

You nod your head slowly, "Okay." You then turn away from him and look down to make sure you have all your things, "When you're ready to grow some balls and explain yourself, I'll be ready. But until then," You move to open the car door, "I'm done with this shit."

Your feet swing out the car and just as you're about to step out, he calls your name, making you freeze. Gojo can't tell you the truth but he means it honestly when he says, "I'm sorry for loving you."

You squeeze your eyes shut, "What does that apology do for me? Hm?"

"That's why you're in this mess." Gojo explains, just barely, "Because I stupidly fell for you, you're wrapped up in my bullshit."

"You're still confusing me." You point out.

"I'm not trying to explain it. I can only give you that as of right now. All of this is because I made the mistake of loving you and for that, I'm sorry."

"Okay." You hum, your voice small and exhausted, "Then," You turn around and meet his eyes one last time, "I forgive you."

"W-What-"

"For loving me, Satoru. It's not a crime," You say, mocking a comment he made to you earlier, "You're allowed to love me. So, for that, and that only, I forgive you."

Those words healed so many more wounds in his heart than you realized. It was like that was all he ever needed to hear. If Gojo's mistake was loving you and that's what caused this, then you forgive him.

If in some twisted way, his feelings started the list, you forgive him.

Deep down, you know the truth will be revealed someday but, you can't keep stressing yourself over it-- you're digging yourself into a hole and opening up doors that can't be closed. By some miracle, you could recognize that it was best you stopped asking all your questions and instead moved on.

That's all you can do; move on.

Complete the list.

Nothing else matters.

Free yourself from this cursed predicament and live your life.

That's what you want, that's what Gojo wants, that's what's needed.

Freedom.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[dilfl0v3rss]

at last

summary: jailbird!ony is home at last

cw: public sex, driving with an expired license lmfao

word count: 2.9k

today was the day. you don’t think you’ve ever popped out of bed so fast in your life. quickly getting yourself ready so you’re not even a half a second late to your important meeting.

“i’m be out on around the twenty fifth mama”

it’s been three weeks since you heard that, and for those three weeks you’ve been planning nonstop. the first thing you did was calmly let all of your friends know that the first day he gets out is for you. feeling that you deserve it for keeping it together for so long. the second thing you made sure to do was get ony a whole new wardrobe, already knowing he won’t be able to fit his old clothes because of how big he’s gotten. but you still kept all of his old clothes just incase you wanted to wear them. the last thing you made sure to do was get him lots of gifts and to get his most important gift touched up. dedicating a whole week to getting your hair, nails, and feet done as well as a nice wax.

you made quick work of getting dressed, already having your outfit picked out days ago for the occasion. your entire house was decorated and you had everything ready for a nice dinner to be shared, feeling content with yourself as you skipped out the door.

his facility was about two hours and some change away, so you had plenty of time to think of what you will say when you are finally met with the love of your life. as you kept your speech engraved in your mind, you decided to turn some of his favorite songs on when you got close where they’re keeping him, wanting him to have all of his favorite things on his first day out. you were so nervous, but excited at the same time. it’s been so long since you were able to touch and feel this man without a guard breathing down your neck. to be able to lay with this man, and walk around the house knowing that he was near and not two hours away.

during your last visit you asked if you needed to come in to sign anything or say anything for him to be let out, but all ony told you was to be waiting in the car, so that’s exactly what you did. the car stayed running with i gotta find peace of mind by lauryn hill playing as you stood with your back leaning on the passenger door. you checked the time on your apple watch and before you knew it the doors were opening. the sight of this man caused a million emotions to run through your mind at once. you were in complete awe at how beautiful he was.

tall built frame adorning a shirt so tight you thought it might rip as well as some sweatpants that hugged his thighs a little tighter than they used to. the only thing that seemed to fit like it used to was his sneakers. you instantly rushed into his arms, forgetting whatever words you had planned as you cried into his chest. “missed you too mama” his deep voice brought vibrations to his chest as he rubbed up and down your back.

“m-m’so happy. i t-though i wasn’t gonna be able to push through, b-but i did it and now you’re coming home” your words brought a couple tears to ony’s deep brown eyes, letting them freely roll down his cheeks as he left light kissed on your head. the two of you stayed like that for what felt like forever before calming down and getting a good look at each other. ony was big, bigger than before. the clothes he wore when he came in barely fit him anymore. “you’re huge” you giggled as ony flexed his arms for you. “i know. you brought some clothes for me pretty?”

you gave him a quick kiss before leading him to the car, opening the back seat before handing him some bigger sweatpants. “i forgot the shirt” ony waved it off, instantly putting his handing on the bottom of his shirt and taking it off, letting the tight white tank top he had on be shown to the world. “s’long as i can take these tight ass sweats off. feel like m’wearing leggings or sum” the two of you laughed before getting in the car. you drove him to a nearby gas station so he could change before getting back on the road to go home.

as you drove you could feel ony’s eyes on you, moving up and down on your figure as he watched you focus on the road. you couldn’t keep a straight face, shyly smiling as you spoke. “whattt?” you whined, making him chuckle before laying his hand on your thigh. “you so beautiful ma. really missed you” his hand lightly squeezed your thigh before creeping up higher. thick tattood fingers brushing against your skirt as ony leaned over to plant kisses on your neck. you knew this was coming.

“papa m’drivingggg. you want me t’crash?” you whined before lifting your shoulder to remove his access to your sensitive neck. “y’look so sexy when you drive tho. lemme just-” he slowly moved his hands between your thighs, surprised to feel his fingers immediately meet the flesh of your pussy. you smiled to yourself as ony released a quiet gasp at the realization. “no panties? you driving me crazy” his dick jumped in excitement at the sight of you as well as the feeling of your warm heat, making ony anxiously glance at the time. he prayed you were at least an hour out, but you’ve only been driving for fourth-five minutes and he knew he wasn’t going to last. “pull over ma”

“what? why? you alri-”

“yea i’m good i just need you t’pull over real fast.”

you listened to his request, slowly merging to the right until you’ve reached the side of the road. there weren’t many cars out today so it didn’t take much effort. as soon as the car slowed to a stop, ony got out. taking two steps before reaching the back seat door. “come here pretty girl” you opened your mouth to complain, but it was caught in your throat at you caught sight of the big bulge in this man’s sweatpants. you made your way to the back before ony quickly sat you on his lap. “pa i don’t have tints”

“ion care. need you t’ride this dick ‘fore i cum in my fuckin pants” he pulled your ass up, having your upper body leaning over his shoulder as he quickly dug two of his thick fingers into you. you instantly melted at the contact, the sensation feeling foreign to your body since it’s been so long. you couldn’t even speak at the moment, settling for deep breaths and the prettiest moans as ony quickly fingered you.

“y’so fuckin tight mama. my pussy been missin me huh?” his deep voice rang in your ears as you nodded your head to his question. ony wasn’t satisfied with that though, quickly snatching his fingers from your entrance to leave a hard slap on your ass before thrusting them back into you. “talk t’me baby. wanna hear that pretty voice” he dug into you as fast as ever, making you have to stutter each of your words out as you tried to give the proper response. “m-missed y-you so-soo much d-daddy”

ony smiled at your response, quickening his pace as he let you move your hips and fuck yourself onto his fingers. “that’s what daddy like t’hear. want y’to make a pretty mess on my fingers. can y’do that for me princess?” the word “yes” was on the tip of your tongue, but never fell as you felt ony snatch your release out of you, loud gasps and moans flew from your lips as you leaked all over him. your warm fluids trickling down his arm before soaking onto his grey sweatpants, but ony payed it no mind. he slowly moved his fingers from you before guiding your body down on his dick.

“i’ll be gentle” he reassured you before slowly sliding you down onto him. inch by inch you whimpered as you felt the stinging stretch of his dick. “i know mama, i know. daddy sorry. shouldn’t have left you like this f’so long.” he wiped your tears from your cheeks, giving you light pecks on the lips as he let you adjust to his size. “m’here now. wont do it again ‘kay?” ony didn’t look for a reply from you, slowly lifting your hips before fucking you onto his dick. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream. it’s been so long since you’ve had his body against yours, his big hands roaming your body as well as his thick dick rubbing against your walls.

tears start fall again as you happily bounced up and down on him, diamond chain dangling from your neck as his initial at the bottom sparkled in the sun. “fuckkk ma” he groaned before shooting ropes of cum deep into you. it’s clearly been so long for him as well. the feeling of your tight walls so foreign to him that he couldn’t help but fill you up quickly, but that didn’t stop him. ony’s dick stayed hard as he picked up to the pace you just held, eventually bouncing you down on him harder as the two of your releases mixed inside of you. “i got a lot more t’give you mama. try to keep up”

you had picked ony up at around eleven, but didn’t get home until five. after the two of you finished showing how much you missed each other, your legs were too weak to drive. you tried to tell ony no since his license was expired, but he ignored you. “you gon kill us if you try to drive wit them jelly legs ma” he chuckled before taking the wheel. he didn’t last another twenty minutes before his fingers were deep in your pussy again, quickly fucking you as he drove. as soon as you were finished you saw his dick, hard as can be in his sweats. “can’t leave you like that” you’d said before quickly getting to work. sucking him so good that he had no choice but to slow down and eventually stop to take you to the back and give you the best head of your life as a reward.

ony carried you from the car to the house, chuckling and giving you many kisses all over your face. you quickly wiggled from his arms and stood in front of the door. “you ready?” you said excitedlyyy. ony gave you two thumbs up, taking a deep breath before nodding his head. you unlocked the door and walked him inside. the house was the same, but different. many pictures of you replaced with pictures of him as he looked at the frames adorning the living room walls. the kitchen looked exactly how he left it as well as the dining room. as ony looked around you quietly went to the bedroom to bring out his gifts and putting them on the couch as you waited for him to finish his inspection. “how you feel?” you asked, smiling from ear to ear on the couch.

ony’s eyes were filled with disbelief. this was something he dreamed of doing while locked in his cell for all those years. walking freely around his home, only footsteps away from you instead of miles. ony turned towards you, eyeing the gifts before making his was to the couch. “real good. what’s all this?” he lightly ran his hands on one of the boxes while giving you a confused look. “s’for you.” his brown eyes looked into yours, shaking his head as he caressed your chin. “you always so good t’me ma” your stomach did flips as he slowly moved his hand from your chin to around your neck, lifting you from the couch before giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips. this was the first time the two of you have gotten to really enjoy each others lips. tongues gliding over each other as spit kept the two of you connected.

ony’s free hand smoothed down your back, stopping at you ass to give it a tight squeeze. before you knew it, he had you turned around and bent over the front of the couch, giving him a perfect view of your beautiful body as well as the lovely home he’s been missing. “missed this” he mumbled as he freed his dick from the confines of his sweats. lining up with your tight entrances before thrusting in fully. as his hips met your ass, a loud cry left your lips. your body jerking forwards from his hard thrusts as ony pounded your pussy with vigor. “m’so proud of you mama. you held this shit down real well”

ony looked all over his house, taking in the very missed scenery. an idea popped into his head, making a devilish smirk appear on his face as he pulled out of you. “daddy m’not finisheddd” you whined, earning you a hard slap on your ass before ony turned you around. “stop whining baby. ima give you what you want.” with that he lifted you in his arms, kissing you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “gon fuck you everywhere in here”

before you could reply you were interrupted by the feeling of his dick being pushed up your walls. ony bounced you onto him in the air, walking around the house until he reached the dining room table. he laid you down on your back before wrapping his inked hand around your neck. “need you to cum in every room. can you do that f’me mama?” his dick caressed your walls perfectly as he roughly fucked you on the table, each stroke kissing all the right places. your moans bounced off the walls as you repeatedly cried out in ecstasy. you’ve spent many nights dreaming about what the two of you would be doing when he finally came home, but no dream could ever amount to this.

“throw that shit back mama. make daddy cum” ony groaned as you repeatedly fucked yourself onto his dick. the two of you were now on the kitchen floor, having fucked each other silly in every other room in the house except the bedroom. your pussy was sensitive to the touch and ony was two orgasms away from shooting blanks, but neither of you cared. continuing to love on each other as if y’all haven’t been fucking for hours. “missed you. so. fuckin. much mama shittt” his inked hand landed roughly on your ass repeatedly as he watched your ass move on his dick. pretty brown flesh ricocheting off his abdomen as you took all of his inches. “missed you oh my goddd i missed you so much too daddy. don’t want you t’leave me ever again” you said as another orgasm ripped through you. you cried out as you shook on the floor, your release spilling onto the tile as ony picked up where you left off. “ian ever gon leave you again mama, trust.”

when you got to the bedroom that’s when things started to wind down. ony fed you slow deep strokes as he looked lovingly into your eyes. “i love you so much…..so fuckin much” he moaned as he wiped your tear stained cheeks. you didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, just laying there and letting him take control as you cried happy tears. all those nights where you’d scream and cry were finally over as you leaned up to kiss his wet lips. “i love you more papa. cant believe you’re really here” you mumbled through kisses as you felt ony’s dick reach deeper into you. “oh my god onyyyy!” you moaned, back arching off the bed as you felt your release on the tip of your tongue. “go head baby, m’right there wit you” ony stroked you deeper and before you knew it, the both of your releases mixed together before slowly tricking out of you from the sides. the two of you stayed like that, taking each other in as you caught your breath.

“ima run us a bath aight?” ony mumbled before slowly pulling out if you and making his way to the bathroom. the two of you bathed together, washing away the sweat and fluids from your night before getting out and putting on some comfy pajamas.

“how you know what size i am?” ony chuckled as he looked down at the pajama pants he had on. he expected to be met with small clothes when he got home, but you made sure to get him right. “when i went to visit i noticed how big you got. just went two sizes up” he nodded along to what you were saying before tying his durag up and crawling into bed. you crawled in next to him, cuddling up to his side before throwing your leg over his. “still can’t believe this is real. like you’re really in this bed with me. it’s been so long baby.” ony could hear the sadness in your voice, looking down at you before tilting your chin up towards him. he gave you a loving kiss, taking your hand and laying it on his chest where his heart was beating. “feel that?” he asked.

“mhmm”

“good, ‘cause it’s real. i’m where i was supposed to be all those years, wit you”

ony stared down into your watery eyes. brown orbs mirroring yours as his began to well up too.

“i’m home”

[f1version]

SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ MSC47

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader ( she/her )

summary: Mick and you have been best friends for years, been through the good and bad, but feelings change and thoughts spiral. Will this holiday time make both of you realize that you could be the one?

warnings/info: fluff, best friends to lovers, miscommunication (they’re avoiding each other), kissing, a bit of anxiety, a try-to hallmark movie my way through fics. 

word count: 2.1k words

note: inspired on sabrina carpenter’s song! hope you like it, have a good day and happy holidays! 

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 20, 2023

It’s cold outside; snow is falling everywhere but not with enough force to block the streets or close the stores. Usually, when the weather looks like this, you would call Mick and bake those cookies he loves. He would put on his ‘Emotional Support’ apron and pretend to help. You would tease him about how he never does anything, just there to eat, and he would laugh, eyes lighten up, and say something along the lines of—I just passed you the flour! or whatever ingredient he helped you grab from the shelf ten minutes back.

Sometimes you wonder how you ended up in this place, so desperately in love with your best friend, with butterflies in your stomach when he hugs you, a silly smile on your face when he tells some awful joke, and an enormous fear of telling him, sort of. It doesn’t matter; that won't stop you from baking cookies on such a pretty snowy day.

You: Wanna come over? I’m making cookies

Mick: Very busy right now

Mick: Just do them without me

You: that's alright

Here’s the thing: Mick’s been acting as cold as snow since the last time you saw each other a week ago. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, not that you are aware of; you were watching Hallmark movies together, and he decided to leave abruptly before the movie ended. Maybe it’s just an emergency, he said, but he’s been running away from you for days, your friends confused over the whole thing. 

You wonder if he’s noticed. Lately, your friends have spent a lot of time telling you how obvious it looks—shiny eyes paired with a never-ending smile. They have also suggested it’s mutual, which you hope because all you've wanted to do before your family's Christmas party is to confess, but who knows, maybe you’ve all been watching too many movies.

DECEMBER 22, 2023

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make him mad?” Alicia, your best friend, asks. She came in to leave some decorations for the party on Sunday, but one life update lent to another and of course, the Mick situation came up.

“It doesn't even seem like he’s mad at me,” You say because it’s true, you’ve known Mick long enough to know how he acts when mad,  “he’s just ignoring me.”

She sighs. “Then why don’t you ask him what’s wrong?” 

You’ve asked yourself that a couple of times, but the answer is still not clear, usually is as easy as walking down the street to his house but this time the thought overwhelms you. “Because I'm scared?” You answer, out of breath. “I don't know. I’m focusing on the party, especially because Mom doesn’t come back until tomorrow evening.”

“Honestly, my suggestion is for you to ask him before the party.” 

You sigh, knowing she’s right. The Christmas party is a tradition your families started eleven years ago, after Alicia, Gina, Esteban, Mick, and you decided to become inseparable at one of Mick’s birthday parties. This year it will be hosted at your family home, and with your mom away in Germany for a work conference, you’ve had your friends come around and help. They’ve all shown up but Mick. What the hell is his problem?

“I know Ali but,” Your phone starts ringing, Mickey is displayed on your screen with a picture of Mick carrying Angie. Alicia rolls her eyes and encourages you to take it with her head. “Hello?” 

“Hi. I'm panicking a bit,” he says, the background noise lets you know he's in his car. 

“Why?” You ask, forgetting you were having a crisis on this. “Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “It’s embarrassing, but I have no idea what to get your mom,” he says, and you laugh. Last year, you were having this exact crisis about Corinna.

You hum, thinking, “She wanted new pedals for her bike. Loved some she saw in Bike World; you’ll have to drive a bit, but I’ll send you the pic.” You put your phone away, change the call to speaker, and open messages, sending the picture your mom sent you a month ago. “There you go.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

You smile, letting out a laugh. “I know, idiot.”

“Bye, love you,” he says. Your calls always end like this; it’s a habit, so you mutter Love you back and hang up.

Alicia is staring at you, a grin on her red lips. “I hate both of you,” and she laughs, grabbing her keys and purse, about to leave. You’re somehow dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Bye, love you. Love you,” she mimics, and you feel heat rise up your cheeks. “You guys really need to talk; I’m done dealing with him too.”

“What? Ali, it’s a ha-”

“I’m coming back at six”

“Alicia!”

“Just ask him!” She closes de door before you can even ask her to come back.

DECEMBER 24, 2023

Needless to say, you didn’t talk with Mick on the 23rd. Too busy dealing with the party and, as Esteban said, too busy avoiding the topic. 

Now it’s 7 p.m., warm lights tint the house while friends and family sway along the music in the background. Mick has been around since ten in the morning, bringing presents, a couple of ingredients that your mom was missing, and decorations, which he then helped put together. Now he’s just in full black attire, wine in hand, singing along to the song playing. Once again, you're too busy in your world to notice him approaching you.

“You always know which songs to play,” he says. Because he knows it’s your playlist reproducing. You know that’s one of his favorite songs.

“I try my best. But I also know it’s one of your favorites,” you answer, and he hums. There’s a void between you, one that hasn't been there before. It's not the tension when you fight or the longing when you're upset; it's not the excitement of seeing each other after months of traveling or the mischief when you prank your friends. It’s different—something that has been building itself for months—and you are too oblivious to understand what it is.

“You look beautiful,” Mick says, not looking at you but at his drink. He’s looked at you enough tonight, he thinks. You look up, suddenly feeling an outrageous urge to kiss him. Try and see if that’s the answer to all your questions.

He’s faster though, clears his throat, and says, “I’m going for more cookies.”

And he leaves. Your eyes stay on his back as he takes one cookie from the snack table. See him hum to the taste. You smile, bittersweet, What is going on, Mick? You want to shout at him, tell him in a million different ways how confusing all of this is, but that’s a talk for tomorrow; you’ve decided, you can't escape it any longer then.

"Shatz,” Someone calls and then says your name.

“Hm, yes, mom?” You ask, and it’s time to eat.

[ 10 minutes later ]

You are in the middle of dinner, or gossiping time, as Gina calls it, when Aunt Adelaide starts asking each one of you—the single, young members of the family and friends—about relationships. It’s not your favorite part, but a lot of fun commentary comes out of it.

Hearing your name, you know it's your turn. “Do you have anyone special yet? Maybe a secret boyfriend you don't want to tell us about?"

You laugh, “No, no. But I hope someone comes along this year.” First, you have to get over Mick, you think, and laugh a bit more.

“I have a neighbor I could introduce you to, dear. He’s a lovely young man.” She always has someone to present you to; it’s surprising. You try to go on dates with them, but they never end up working.

“I’ll think about it.” You say this as the loud sound of silver hitting the floor calls everyone’s attention.

Mick abruptly stands up. “I’m sorry,” he says as he picks up his fallen fork. He looks uncomfortable, like he’s had enough of the food, the music, or the topic. “Excuse me, I’m going for another one.”

The table has fallen silent. Aunt Adelaide is looking at you in amusement, a playful grin on her face. Someone nudges your shoulder, and you know it’s Alicia. Her eyes stand on a strange middle ground between confused and knowing, tilting her head in encouragement, like she always does. You also stand up, not so abruptly, but now everyone looks at you expectantly. “I’m going. Excuse me.”

You follow Mick to the kitchen; thankfully, it's far enough from the dining room that no one will bother.

“Mick?” You call once you’re there. His head is on his hands, and he is murmuring inaudible words to himself. "Mick, what is going on?"

He looks up, his hair messy. He’s overthinking, and you don't know what to do. You feel lost looking at him, far away from his thoughts and feelings. “What do you mean? Everything is alright.”

“You don’t look alright,” you say, shaking your head. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“No, I haven't. We’re alright,” he lies once again, picking on his thumbs.

You sigh, knowing this is when you talk about it—no script, no thinking, just questions and hope for answers. Whatever is budging him has his anxiety running in full force. “No, you’re not, and we're not; I have no idea what just happened, and you're acting as if you barely know me."

He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair, and looks at you with his deep blue eyes. You see questions being asked but don’t understand how to answer them. “It’s nothing; I'm just. It’s hard to explain; you won't understand.”

“I will try to understand then, like I always do.” You promise, taking two steps forward, close enough to reach out and hold him, "Just please talk to me."

“I don’t want to mess things up between us,” he says, sounding afraid. It reminds you of the time sixteen-year-old Mick broke your favorite perfume by accident. He didn’t want to tell you, too afraid you would stop talking to him. You really hope he didn’t break anything, material or not.

“You won't. I will be here for you.”

“I just want,” he stops himself once again. His eyes never leave yours, so you open yours a bit, waiting, listening to whatever he has to say, and it seems to work because he just says, “You."

“What?” You blank, not knowing what to say or do, not knowing if you understood correctly or if it’s the movie's effect once again. You see the exact moment in which he panics.

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, I.” He looks everywhere but your eyes, searching for an exit. Your first instinct is to grab his hand, keeping him where he is.

“I could,” you say slowly, looking at your now-intertwined hands. “I could be misunderstanding all of this, but, Mick,” you say, looking at him. He’s looking back, hope in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. “I like you, but no, not even. Mick, I’m so in love with you it hurts. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but then you disappeared. You didn’t want to see me; you were acting different, and I got so worried, but I think...”

“That we are both idiots,” he says, a small smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, we are.”

He smiles and brings his free hand to your cheek, says your name like it’s meant for him to say forever. “I’m in love with you too, so much. I got so scared when I realized that I didn't just like you, that I couldn’t hide it anymore. And then our friends started saying how obvious I was being.”

“Same here,” you say, laughing. He moves his hand, pulling you in for a warm hug. It feels different than any other you’ve shared; the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been building together, finally finding their place. It’s a breath of fresh air. Mick’s hands are all around you, softly caressing your back, his head buried in your neck, leaving a small peck before distancing himself enough so he can see your face. You want to ask if it's appropriate to kiss him now.

But he's the first to talk. “Quick question."

“Shoot."

“Do I need a mistletoe to kiss you?” He asks, and you laugh loudly. Shake your head in embarrassment. Oh, how you love this man.

“As much as I enjoy the tradition, all you, Mick Schumacher, have to do is ask,” and now it's his turn to laugh, brings you closer while doing so.

“Can I please kiss you?"

You pretend to think about it and decide to tease him a little bit: “Is that what you asked for Christmas?"

“It’s the exact thing I asked Santa Claus for."

“Then merry Christmas, Mick.”

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah . . . add yourself here

[lua-bunny]

Headcanons - Tate Langdon

imagine this as an AU where Tate just died, but didn't do the school massacre, because....too sensitive to imagine!

The reader is gender neutral!

Tate alive (90s)

-He carries one of your hair ties or a bracelet on his own wrist. He randomly stole from you one day and you never noticed. If you eventually notice, he will tell you that he likes to carry a part of you with him.

-He loves skipping school and would make you skip school to be with him.

-He would hate to go to the prom, but if it's important to you, he'll make an effort and go.

-He would probably take a while to tell you he loves you because he thinks it is initially a sign of weakness.

-He is intelligent, but not the kind of school intelligence, but rather specific, things he learned in life with his interests.

-He listens to Nirvana, a lot, and he'd be really happy if you liked Kurt or something.

-He probably fell in love for you very easily, before you even knew who he was.

-If you're one of those persons who likes rock music and has a piercing, a tatto or something like that, this guy will fall at your feet, easily.

-He hates being yelled at. It reminds him of Constance and his stepfather and he hates them. It doesn't stop him from screaming or anything, but he definitely cries afterwards.

-This boy is JEALOUS. If you were a popular person, like a cheerleader or a player, maybe a band singer, he would freak out over all the applause and attention you get.

-He's weird, so he'd probably dedicate some song with questionable lyrics, or some Russian movie about cannibalism and he'd hope you loved it as much as he did.

-He would never invite you to his house. He would also never tell his family that you are more then a friend. Not out of shame for you, but out of shame for his family.

-He would let you paint his nails black (just black) and he would help you paint your nails. He also agrees to do your makeup if you want to or let you do black smoky eyes (even if he pretends to hate it).

-He would probably write you cute notes and put them in your coat, your bag or even in your car

-If you were a fan of horror films, he would curate with you which film is the bloodiest. If you were scared, he would put some weaker scary movies on TV and hug you so you wouldn't be scared.

-He's terrible with feelings. He feels like everyone hates him, and he feels like he hates everyone. You'd basically be the only exception, but it means he'll never really let you go.

-He has a lot of sadness and repressed anger (taking into account that in this AU he never killed anyone) so he would be someone quite unstable, he would probably have borderline or bipolar depression, but he wouldn't go to any psychologist.

-He is really unique (especially in the 90s) so it would really be difficult to find someone like Tate.

-He is definitely a pathological liar. He will lie for small and useless things. that you will never discover and that in the end will become true in the story you remember.

Tate dead (Murder house season)

-He doesn't understand the concept of privacy. He doesn't care about looking at your cell phone, or your computer, saying personal things about you to your friends or parents and he doesn't understand you wanting to do things without him/without telling him. If you date him, he literally wants to be attached to your hip. As if you shared the same life.

-He HATES you having parties at Murder House or having your friends over. He will always complain about not getting attention and about how idiots all your friends are.

-Like I said, he's not good with feelings, so the only way he can express himself is by crying. He cries. A LOT. And he always expects you to comfort him (he would also use this to manipulate you if he did something bad)

-He likes to be validated. He's never received this from anyone so if you say nice things to Tate, he'll definitely love it (and probably cry)

-He likes listening more than talking. So sometimes he will sit on your bed, cross his legs and listen to you talking about anything for hours.

-He really likes contact. Be it sleeping hugging you, kissing you, or placing a hand on your thigh . He will always have one finger touching you.

-He will recommend you books, movies, songs and he expects you to like to them all and tell him about them.

-If he is angry about something or someone, he would like to be hugged like the little spoon and have his hair stroked while he complains about something that upset him, eventually, he would get angrier and knock over one of your decorations, or he would punch something, but he would always cry about it (Tate is a good cry baby)

-He would like to hide in places you couldn't predict to watch you. He likes to do this while you sleep, or while you're in the bathtub, just to make sure you're alive and well.

-He hates being trapped in that house so he would never want you to be trapped. He would like you to stay in the house because you want to and not because the supernatural trapped you there.

-He would hate the fact that you have to go to school/college/work because it means he can't check up on you and that you could be in danger.

-He's a bit obsessed with hair. He would love to touch your hair and he would love for you to touch his too.

-He would make very specific and different compliments, never obvious things. "I like the shape of your face", "the smell of your hair is good", "I like your accent", all those things.

-If you smoke, drink or something like that, he will get angry, because that means you can die outside the house and leave him, or die inside the house and get angry with him.

-He protects you from the other ghosts in the house and even from his own mother (who keeps invading your home).

-He would find a thousand things to do with you on Halloween, since it's the only day he can leave Murder House. He would like to do things that make you seem like a normal couple, for you.

-Since he can't be your boyfriend in public, he would like some matching jewelry, some tatto, anything to show that you were his and vice versa.

-He usually feels what you are feeling. If you are angry with someone, he is too, if you are sad with someone, he is too, and so on.

[adrienneleclerc]

Move to Miami

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: after the Miami Grand Prix, Charles meets a wonderful woman that would make him consider moving to the states

Warning: the usual spelling and grammatical errors, this is based off "Move to Miami" by Enrique Iglesias featuring Pitbull

A/N: LANDO WON THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX!!!!! I cried, I cried so many times hearing him win, watching the edits people have made, the McLaren post of Lando jumping on the team, I was so emotional! I mean i cried when I couldn’t watch it live, I had to go to YouTube for live commentary, I am so happy he won!!!!

After doing beach yoga for the Hilton hotel, Lando actually invited Y/N, the yoga instructor, to the Grand Prix.

"Are you sure? You don't have to invite me, I'm sure you have other people in mind." Y/N said.

"No, no, I insist. You said you've never seen a race before and you're a big fan. I can even pick you up so you could be my personal guest." Lando said.

"All right, sounds great, I'll be rooting for you and for Ferrari." Y/N said, hugging Lando before she went to roll her yoga mat. She made it to the hotel so she could change and put her sneakers on before heading over to Juice and Java for a sandwich and a smoothie.

What Y/N did not know is that a certain Ferrari driver was also heading to Juice and Java. Both were walking from opposite directions but Charles opened the door first, letting Y/N pass.

"After you." Charles said.

"Thank you." Y/N said, walking in to the cafe with Charles walking right behind her. She turned her head. "Oh my god, you're Charles, I'm a big fan, really, I'm Y/N." Y/N said.

"Thank you, always great meeting a fan." Charles said.

"Yeah, I am so excited for the Grand Prix, like you don't even know. Am I talking a lot? I tend to ramble when I'm excited or nervous, and honestly seeing you here makes me feel both emotions." Y/N admitted.

"You are talking a lot, but I find the rambling cute." Charles said, making Y/N blush. She was up next to order.

"Hi, how are you?...I'm good, can I get a blueberry, banana, and strawberry smoothie, a chicken caesar wrap, and a Nutella crepe please...yeah that's it, thank you." Y/N said. Charles also said his order and stood beside Y/N.

"You mind if I eat with you?" Charles asked. There was something about Y/N that drew him in.

"I don't mind at all. Lets find us a table." Y/N said, they chose a table away from the windows. Y/N's order was called up first and then Charles, they sat back down.

"So you're a fan of Formula 1?" Charles asked, taking a sip of his juice.

"Yes actually, big Ferrari fan. By the way, not a fan of the new livery." Y/N said, taking a bite of her wrap.

"Why not? Ferrari should be red." Charles said.

"Yeah, but you guys were teasing how Azzurro la plata and Azzurro dino are historical blue shades, making homage to the North American Racing Team, so you'd think that for Miami only, the new livery would look like that, all white with azzurro la plata details." Y/N said, sipping her smoothie.

"You are right, I can't lie, but I am also under contract so as far as Scuederia Ferrari knows, i love the new livery." Charles said, eating his wrap.

"You mean Scuderia Ferrari HP." Y/N teased.

"Ugh, don't remind me. That livery has so many blue HP logos, what is the point of having the blue background on a red car?" Charles argued.

"The fans have been saying the same thing! A transparent background with just the white lettering of HP would have been just fine." Y/N said.

"So what is it that you do?" Charles asked.

"Oh, I'm a yoga instructor, I actually did the Hilton yoga thing with Lando." Y/N said,

"Really? That's cool, are you going to the race?" Charles asked.

"i am! Lando heard me say I never been to a race so he gave me a pass, I'll be his personal guest for race weekend. I'm sure I'll see you around the paddock." Y/N said.

However, Charles did not truly see her until the celebration in a Miami club. Y/N was dancing to a reggaeton song, truly having a good time, drinking with Lando.

"Thanks for inviting me Lando! I am so proud that you won your first race, and that it was my first time watching one in person, you made me cry." Y/N exclaimed over the music, hugging him tightly because she is an affectionate Latina.

"Thank you for coming! I loved hanging out with you." Lando said. Y/N kissed his cheek befire she started dancing some more, Charles watching her every move, just mesmerized by the way she moves to the music, you won't find women like her in Monaco, that's for sure. Charles took a shot of tequila before going up to Y/N and tapping her on the shoulder, she turned around.

"Charles! Its so good to see you, congratulations on P3, you did so well considering what happened during practice." Y/N told him, hugging him really tightly. "Wanna dance with me?"

"I'm afraid if i dance with you, i'll never want to leave Miami." Charles said, flirting a bit, Y/N giggled.

"Well we wouldn't want that now do we?" Y/N teased.

"I don't know, I think I'm willing to move. Theres good food, good music, a bigger population than Monaco, obviously." Charles said and Y/N laughed.

"Well there's also alligators and crocodiles, hurricanes, i don't think you're built for Florida, guapo." Y/N said.

"Would you consider moving to Monaco?" Charles asked.

"Oh i would LOVE to live in Monaco, but I am broke as fuck." Y/N said.

"Then live with me." Charles said.

"Hold on, espera un tantito, we just met, at least buy me dinner." Y/N joked.

"Mm, we leave tomorrow morning. If you give me your number we could do long distance." Charles said.

"Are you serious? You are willing to do a long distance...whatever this is, with me? Are you drunk?" Y/N asked.

"No, but your body got me tipsy." Charles flirted again.

"I'm serious Lord Perceval." Y/N said.

"I would like to explore this, I haven't had luck dating in Monaco, maybe it was time to explore elsewhere, and where else than Miami." Charles states.

"Fine, don't make me regret this." Y/N said. Charles gave her his phone and she put her number and a contact photo from her instagram. "I made you follow me on Insta by the way." Y/N gave Charles his phone back.

"You won't regret it, I swear." Charles said.

7 Months Later

Charles was in his hotel room after media day, December 5. He decided to FaceTime his long distance girlfriend.

"Hello, mon ange, how are you?" Charles asked.

"Guapo, isn't it like 11pm over there? Go to bed, you have practice tomorrow." Y/N said.

"But i wanted to talk to you, how was your day?" Charles asked.

"Its been fine, I'm just doing Christmas shopping, my niece wants legos but my cousin didn't specify which one and I am this close to getting her a McLaren lego set." Y/N said.

"McLaren? Why not Ferrari?" Charles asked.

"Ferrari is all sold out, mi amor, so McLaren it is until that freaking payasa se digna a contestar el pinche teléfono." Y/N said.

"You know, speaking of Christmas, my winter break is coming up in a few days. How do you feel about me spending the break with you in Miami?" Charles asked,

"Wait, really? But what about your family?" Y/N asked.

"I told her that you don't have the luxury to travel with me so I think she's okay with me spending some time in Miami with you. And so is Andrea as long as I am keeping up with my workouts and diet plan." Charles said.

"Wow, thats amazing. Do you still have that craqzy idea of moving to Miami?" Y/N asked.

"I mean, under normal circumstances, I would never leave Monaco because of my mom, but a certain beautiful angel makes me consider moving every time I speak with her." Charles said and Y/N laughed.

"Que cursi, but that's super sweet of you to say, I must give you some credit. Now please go to bed." Y/N said.

"I'll be dreaming of you, goodnight, mon ange." Charles said.

"Goodnight, guapo." Y/N said and hung up the phone. Who knew teaching yoga with Lando would lead to all of this.

The End

Hope y'all liked it, just a little quick blurb to keep me busy and entertained. Read part 2 of Meeting the Family if you haven't done so, I wrote a little more to it.

[randombush3]

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back. 

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home. 

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life. 

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then. 

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out. 

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around. 

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards. 

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her. 

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel. 

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered. 

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–” 

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…” 

“Leah.” 

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?” 

“Is that a question?” 

You blink. “I’m not sure.” 

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.” 

Do you want to? 

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality. 

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that. 

“Course not,” Leah lies. 

You let it convince the both of you. 

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!” 

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.” 

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.” 

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?” 

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?” 

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them. 

It feels… good. 

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like. 

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you? 

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh? 

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will. 

She wipes her mouth. 

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already). 

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?” 

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.” 

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.” 

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed. 

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.” 

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.” 

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.” 

“Well, you know that–” 

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.” 

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice. 

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed. 

She had not expected this from herself. 

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside. 

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30. 

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows. 

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace. 

It can’t be that bad, can it? 

It’s just like therapy. 

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut. 

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail. 

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does. 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.” 

Silence. 

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into. 

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?” 

“Do what, my daughter?” 

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be. 

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.” 

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.” 

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.” 

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else. 

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice. 

The realisation is crushing. 

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers. 

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared. 

Alexia is so very lost. 

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home. 

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one. 

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it. 

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive. 

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge. 

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence. 

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood. 

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time. 

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it? 

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do. 

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin. 

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them. 

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later. 

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help. 

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.” 

“You have a lot to account for.” 

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.” 

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.” 

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred. 

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack. 

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong. 

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind. 

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you. 

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had. 

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia. 

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side. 

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?” 

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying? 

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.” 

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.” 

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona. 

You’re a busy person, after all. 

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.” 

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end. 

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird. 

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it. 

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.) 

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task. 

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view. 

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?” 

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you. 

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife. 

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality. 

“Ah, they’ve broken up.” 

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.” 

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing. 

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.” 

“I heard you were in London?” 

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.” 

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her. 

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this. 

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written). 

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall. 

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.) 

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat. 

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight. 

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show. 

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia. 

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that. 

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.” 

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage. 

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event. 

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly. 

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher. 

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice. 

You pray this goes well. 

It does. 

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces. 

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers. 

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?” 

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.” 

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger. 

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.” 

“Im-men-lee?” 

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.” 

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her. 

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood. 

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?” 

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.” 

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward. 

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.” 

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.” 

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.” 

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you. 

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.” 

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!” 

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands. 

“Hola,” you say shyly. 

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.” 

You try very hard not to burst into tears. 

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight. 

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend. 

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant. 

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal. 

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on. 

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality. 

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact. 

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.” 

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?” 

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.” 

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter. 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

I don’t care. 

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.” 

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance. 

This is a lift home. 

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair. 

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds. 

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk. 

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show? 

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well. 

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!) 

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking. 

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless. 

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it. 

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking. 

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours. 

Perhaps it never will. 

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot. 

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.” 

“Lela, me tengo que ir.” 

“Pero–” 

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?” 

It starts off innocently. 

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’. 

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it. 

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought. 

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside. 

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?” 

“Sí.” 

A doorway conversation. 

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up. 

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass. 

“We play the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.” 

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober. 

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?” 

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.” 

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company. 

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop. 

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.” 

She opens the next bottle for you. 

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult. 

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa. 

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?” 

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.” 

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.” 

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.” 

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.” 

“In Highgate?” 

“Anywhere,” you breathe. 

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.” 

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away. 

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty. 

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want. 

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway. 

“Please.” 

And she really doesn’t make you beg. 

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after. 

Parted legs and soft moans. 

She slots herself between your thighs. 

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you. 

Your fingers repay the favour. 

“More,” you request just as she pulls away. 

“Is it in the same place?” 

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets. 

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine. 

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants. 

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less. 

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode. 

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates. 

You’re glad, you’re really glad. 

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her. 

And then it all comes crashing down. 

Everything. 

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible. 

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.” 

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy. 

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it. 

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much. 

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.” 

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau. 

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.” 

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.” 

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that. 

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.” 

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.” 

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.” 

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with. 

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue. 

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares. 

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her. 

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that. 

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.” 

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.” 

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn. 

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god. 

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper. 

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half. 

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s. 

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?” 

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.” 

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.” 

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon. 

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime. 

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it. 

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.” 

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.” 

“God, you are such an idiot.” 

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.” 

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through 

“I think we are destined for each other.” 

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it. 

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.” 

Is that an understatement? 

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?” 

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around. 

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear. 

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.” 

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands. 

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.” 

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.” 

“If you say so, Alexia.” 

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.” 

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply. 

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt? 

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes. 

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all. 

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay. 

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

[kornbr3ad]

ANIMALS

Euronymous x FEM!Reader

RORY’S PORTRAYAL OF EURONYMOUS! NOT THE REAL ØYSTEIN!!!

YES! ITS BASED OFF THIS SONG BC MY BRAIN GOT A BRILLIANT IDEA! prolly been done b4 somewhere, idk

WARNINGS: Nsfw, smut, oral (f receiving), getting caught, a bit rough, CARRRR SEX!

“Oh Euro! That’s the spot baby!” You cried out, your legs pinned up as he was eating you out. As you moaned out like that, his tongue delved deeper into your wet cunt. That was until you thought you heard a voice saying “Hey!” You tried to get Euronymous to stop, but he didn’t anything, so he just continued licking and sucking on your clit. Then, there was a knock on the window beside you… and it was YOUR PARENTS!

It all began earlier in the day. It was your 1 year anniversary, so Euronymous wanted to do something… special, but your parents wouldn’t let you out because you had family visiting for the weekend. Euronymous had a plan though. He wanted to sneak you out. He had pleaded and basically begged until you agreed. After you had finished dinner, had dessert, and spoken with your family for a bit, you told your parents you were going to bed. You went to your room and set up the fake body in your bed and began to get ready.

Once you had gotten ready, you heard rocks being thrown at your window and could only assume one thing. It was Euronymous. Your room was downstairs, so you snuck out and walked back to his car with him. He drove you to an empty parking lot where teenagers typically snuck to have car sex. Things started to get steamy as you started to kiss, you straddled his lap, grinding against his hard cock.

One thing led to another and his pants were unbuttoned, and his cock was out. Your skirt was hiked up your thighs and your panties were to the side as you rode him. The car filled with the sounds of your moans as the windows fogged up. “Such a naughty girl” he growled, pushing you into the backseat and fucking you from the back. He pushed your face into the plush seat. He gave her ass a harsh slap, his balls smacking against her clit. “What would your parents say if they knew you snuck out so i could fuck you, hmm baby?” He continued his assault on her pussy. You couldn’t even get any words out as he started to rub your clit. “Cum for me, baby girl” He groaned, feeling himself nearing the edge.

“Im cumming” you cried out as your mascara ran down your face and you came around his cock. He pulled out, jerking off until he shot cum all down your arched back. “We’re not done yet.” He muttered, positioning you so that your back was against the car door and your knees were pushed up so that he could devour your soaked cunt.

That’s what got you into the predicament where your parents found you. You squeaked as they knocked on the window, Euronymous immediately sitting up. Your dad jerked the car door open, you almost toppled out into the parking lot. “Y/N! YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE MISSY!” Your mother stated angrily. You attempted to protest but your mom pulled you out of the car and towards hers. “See ya tomorrow baby…” you muttered, being dragged to your mothers car.

[belovedmusings]

Tell me where we are in a fallen star.

Choso Kamo X You X Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part five of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and now you have to deal with the aftermath of his drunken confession to want to have kids with you. The only thing is, last night you almost hooked up with his bandmate, bassist and frontman, Suguru Geto. Choso doesn't know, and you're not sure that you want him to. You rejected Suguru and he's in the past now...right?

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with loose morals, sweetheart Choso, smooth-operator Suguru, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, reader has no defining characteristics for inclusivity, mild grinding and groping, reader referred to as 'girlfriend'

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Violet Crazy (DPR Ian), Burning Desire (Lana Del Rey), Glory Box (Portishead)

A/N: I got waaay too busy at the end of the year so apologies for the delayed update but we're back!! enjoy! (no smut but lots of spicy thoughts and imagery ahead)

Read below cut:

You don’t leave your bedroom until Choso has left with Suguru to take him back to his car the next morning. To avoid what would surely be an awkward ‘goodbye’ with the bassist, you simply got in the shower and told Choso not to wait for you. Now, you’re dressed for the day and the apartment is empty.

You look at the stereo that Suguru had played music from last night before you two had danced and almost kissed. It brings butterflies to your stomach and a grimace to your face.

Sighing, you walk into the kitchen and start making yourself breakfast. While you do, you think about how you’re going to talk to Choso.

The whole ‘having kids’ thing he drunkenly brought up last night is still weighing heavy on you. It’s not like you ever were opposed to kids, but right now? It seems too soon. Would that hurt Choso? Or would he even remember that he said all of that?

And then there’s the matter of having almost let Suguru kiss you last night. It seems like everytime he gets close to you, he can’t help but try to cross that line. The worst part is, everytime he pushes and prods, your own resolve weakens.

You run on autopilot through the morning until Choso returns to find you sitting in the living room, half-ass watching your way through one of your favorite comfort shows on the television before you.

“Hey,” He greets softly, locking the door and kicking off his shoes before joining you. His arm winds behind your shoulders intuitively, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “It was weird waking up at a different time than you today. I feel off-kilter.”

The words make your heart flutter. His days are so centered around you that one small disturbance does that much to him?

A pang hits your chest. That just makes what happened last night all the more incriminating. You sigh heavily, fixing him with a fond smile, a tinge of apologeticness in your eyes as you peck his lips.

“It was weird, huh?” You say, laying a hand on his before speaking again. You suppose now is the best time to bring up his words from the night before. “Chos’, do you remember anything you said last night?”

“I…I sort of remember, but details are kind of blurry,” Choso admits, “I think I cried and told you I loved you? I don’t recall much more than that. I hope I didn’t say anything hurtful or do anything to you.”

“No, no of course not,” You say immediately. “It’s just…you said…you said you wanted kids with me. Umm…now, specifically.”

His eyes widen a fraction, and in that small pause, you realize there may have been more truth to his suggestion than you’d previously thought.

“Um,” He says quietly, “What did…what did you say when I said that?”

“I told you we haven’t discussed it before. That we’d talk sober…” you gauge his reaction carefully. He nods stiffly, swallowing thickly.

“…do you…actually want that?” You question after a moment of silence. “I’m not upset either way, Choso, but…I want your honest answer. Do you want kids with me? Now?”

Your boyfriend flounders for a moment, his dark eyes darting from you to the television, to his hands, to you, and down to his hands again as he shifts beside you.

“I…well, I…to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now…”

You take a breath as it processes. “Yeah? What…what exactly have you been thinking about, in terms of kids?”

“Well, I like the idea of us having a baby together,” Choso says softly, a tender expression on his face. “I’m in love with you, and I never see myself with anyone else. Don’t you want to start putting down roots of our own?”

His hands grab yours, making your heart rate spike. He seems to be serious about this.

“Wait…Choso, you really want a baby?”

He nods. “We’re financially stable and we love each other, what more could we need? We could make a happy home together.”

You have to work hard to stay rational. It’s hard to when your boyfriend is saying such sweet things to you, but you can’t ignore the facts tugging at your psyche.

“Baby,” you begin gently, “I…I am so happy that you want that with me. But I want to be honest too. I haven’t really given kids much thought, and you’re about to get a lot busier with Curse Manipulator. If we had a baby now, I’d be home alone a lot taking care of them alone. You’d be busy with recordings, shows, tours…I don’t know if we’re at a point where we can have a family yet.”

He considers this for a moment before nodding. “You’re right…I don’t want to be an absent father. Neither you nor any of our future kids deserve that. And I also want you with me when we start traveling…I guess I got carried away last night.”

You smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “We can always decide to have kids when we both feel ready, later on. To be fair, you do avoid alcohol because it makes you really emotional. I don’t fault you.”

Your boyfriend laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I really shouldn’t drink. Sorry you had to deal with me—I felt so bad Suguru had to lug me up the stairs and sleep on our couch this morning, too.”

At the mention of Suguru, you can’t help the warm wave of nerves that tugs at your stomach. The memories of last night swarm your head, and guilt rises up once more.

But you can’t tell him. It would ruin more than it would help—yes, you know that part of this is just making excuses to save your own ass, but telling Choso how you and Suguru feel about each other will only ruin his career and the band as well. You decided last night that you won’t see Suguru anymore. So, it’s water under the bridge now. You’ve stopped it from rising, and no one will drown as a result.

For a neutral response, you shrug and say, “He wasn’t troubled by it. Didn’t seem annoyed or anything.”

“Good,” He sighs, leaning back on the couch. “He’s a really nice guy. Really kind to you, too. That makes me like him more.”

You don’t know if ‘kind’ is the right word to describe how Suguru acts with you. ‘Tempting’, ‘confounding’, or ‘frustrating’ are more like it. Choso has no idea how Suguru makes you feel, nor about just how much you’ve betrayed his trust for the bassist. Sure, physically you haven’t exactly slept with Suguru, but the moments you two have shared, the words between you, the glances exchanged, the touches given and received…it’s still intimacy.

Honestly, now that you’re thinking about it, your mind is still reeling from the kiss you almost had last night.

So many possibilities had stood on that precipice; how would his lips have felt? How would he have tasted? Would he have pulled you closer? Would you have stopped there, or kept going? How far would the two of you have taken it? All the way? And if you did, what would that have been like? Wild and passionate? Hard and fast? Or slow and taunting? What would he have done to further deteriorate your sanity? Would it have been a one-night stand or would you two have turned it into an affair?

Your mind is racing. Each question stirs up another. You will never know, because he is not yours.

Why does your heart sink at that thought?

You denied him friendship out of a burst of self-control—and denied yourself his affection as well. Self-deception is futile; you know you crave him. Like an addict admitted to rehab, you’ve cut off your supply abruptly, and now it seems like the withdrawals are setting in.

It feels like a breakup. The potential between you two will stay as potential, for the rest of your lives. That is entirely unfair. You see your life with Choso, and you want him by your side forever…

But why do you want Suguru there, not instead, but as well?

___

Two months have passed since that night after the concert. You and Choso are operating smoothly as normal, and he’s successful as ever with Curse Manipulator.

You haven’t spoken to Suguru at all, nor have you seen him.

Time should have made thinking about him easier, but even after all of these weeks, he’s still on your mind constantly. You miss hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his touch. It makes you feel crazy, because you’re still so in love with Choso, yet still infatuated with Suguru at the same time.

Was it the right decision to decline his friendship? You aren’t doing any better than if he was around. The fantasies about him haven’t stopped, and sometimes you dream of him.

On a day where Choso is at one of his brother’s houses hanging out, you’re left to your own devices in the apartment. To avoid going stir-crazy, you decide to just do the week’s grocery shopping. It’s five in the evening and maybe not the best time to go, but you keep spiraling over thoughts of Suguru, so you need the distraction.

The trip is going mundanely, your list amost completed when you’re pulled away from your focus.

“Excuse me. I wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty.”

Your eyes flit away from the shelf of canned goods to land on the stranger, a short man with an eager smile on his face.

“Uh…thanks,” is your reply, unsure what to do.

“You got anyone icing that cake of yours?”

The comment is so out of pocket that you just stare, stunned that someone would actually say that out loud.

“Uh—”

“Sorry I took so long, honey. I couldn’t find the tea you asked for.”

A strong arm wraps around your shoulder, the voice of a familiar man registering in your ear. It’s a straight shock to your heart, and you suck in a breath as you turn your head, eyes landing on Suguru’s tight smile, aimed at the strange man that had been hitting on you. Your heart about jumps into your throat. It’s him.

A flood of emotions swarm you, making your knees go weak.

Play along, your instinct tells you, so you obey.

“Oh, that’s okay…babe,” the word feels strange as a label for your boyfriend’s bandmate.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asks. You glance at the guy, who now looks uncomfortable. Serves the bastard right.

“Yeah.”

“What do you want with my girlfriend?” Suguru questions the man, who raises his hands in defense.

“Look, man, I didn’t know she was—”

“That shouldn’t matter, right? Whether she was taken or not. She’s not interested,” his tone is firm, and the other man just nods, backing away.

“Yeah, yeah—okay. Sorry.”

He turns on his heel and leaves swiftly, finally allowing you to breathe.

Well…sort of.

“Are you okay?” Asks Suguru, his arm sliding off of your shoulder. You will yourself not to react to the touch as you steel yourself.

“Yeah, I’m good. Uh…thanks, Suguru,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even. You feel jumpy and full of unbridled adrenaline. Where did he come from? “How are you here?”

He chuckles at your bluntness. “Well, the grocery store I usually go to is out of Larue’s favorite tea, so I had to come over here instead.”

“Oh…”

His eyes don’t leave yours, and you can’t look away. He’s even more beautiful than you remember.

“Long time no see,” He smiles half-heartedly, trying for nonchalant, then sighs and cuts the act. “Look, I don’t like the way…we parted last time. I’m sorry for overstepping. I…I’ve really missed you, to be honest.”

So, he feels the same? It’s completely mutual. God, that notion has ‘disaster’ written all over it. But you can’t lie to him. You’ve been deprived for too long.

“I…I missed you too.”

Relief flashes through his eyes. “Listen, I don’t want to never see you again. We can be honest about our feelings without making any mistakes, we’re mature adults.”

You look at him for a moment, taking his words into consideration. You want to agree, and at this point, you know that being away from him won’t solve your problem. You like him, and as he said, the two of you should just accept it without acting on it. Maybe then, the flames of desire will calm to mere embers. You’re willing to try it, anyway.

“Yeah…you’re right. We should have a real conversation about this, shouldn’t we?”

He nods. “Why don’t we finish up shopping here first? I doubt the can aisle is where you want to have this discussion.”

You laugh softly at the quip, nodding. “Okay. I have to get my stuff home to the fridge—we can go there. Choso’s with his brothers right now anyway. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” comes his reply, holding up the pack of tea in his hand. “This is all I have, so that’s no problem.”

“Okay,” you nod, grabbing the last item on your list. “Let’s checkout then.”

It’s strange; you never thought you’d be at a grocery store with Suguru. But there you are, paying for your items, probably presenting to all of the strangers around as a couple. It’s domestic, and it makes you feel weird—you don’t hate it. What does that mean?

Especially when he makes a point to carry the bags out to your car for you even though he’s parked somewhere else. It flusters you, but by some miracle, you manage to agree to lead him back to your place since he’s never driven to it from the grocery store.

He follows you in his own car, anticipation filling your veins the closer you get. You’ll be home alone with him, truly this time.

It will be the ultimate test of self-control.

___

A/N: pray for reader's sanity y'all. I'm still planning on cross-posting on AO3 but I was busy so now that I'm back I'll try to get that up. In the meantime, comment here or the masterlist to be added to the taglist!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist:

@jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod (please check your settings if you didn't get a notification, your blog wouldn't pop up when I tried to tag!)

[desswright29]

On Bended knee

Pairing: Shuri X Fem reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Contains: Sexual content (not really smut), Angst, Cheating, Physical fighting, Drama!, Lots of tears, Shuri begging

A/n: Enjoy the drama! 🥰

Song inspo: Dreaming with a broken heart- John Mayer, Since you been gone-Day 26, Shame-Tyrese

Present

“Shuri are you going to be ok? Do you need anything? Nakia was very worried. Shuri seemed to be going into her mind. Her eyes had been consistently glassy, but no tears fell. They’d finally made it to the hotel and Okoye and Nakia escorted Shuri to her room. “I’ll be fine both of you. I just need some time to myself. Okoye please inform everyone I would like to be left alone for the rest of the evening.” She said peering between the two women. “We’re here for you Usisi. If you need anything.” Okoye says, reaching to touch Shuri’s arm. Shuri flinched stepping out of her reach a bit. She nods. “ I know. Enjoy your night.” She walks away entering her room. 

 Shuri looked around the luxury hotel room. Finally alone. She leaned back onto the door, taking a deep breath, blinking fast trying to stop the tears from falling, still one stubborn tear fell. Wiping it away quickly she walked over to the fully stocked bar, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon. She poured a generous amount, and took it with her to the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Alone. Taking a sip of her drink and leaning forward, her knees on her elbows, drink still in hand. She let her head fall forward allowing the tears to fall freely now. Big silent tears fell down her cheeks as she placed her drink on the night stand and crawled to the middle of bed laying in fetal position, fully clothed from the day. There she cried long and heavy until she fell asleep.

————————————————————————

Flashback

“OMG Shuri! Yessss! Fuuuckk meeee.” Shuri pounded into Eve. They were in the back of the car Shuri had bought Eve a few months ago. Shuri was silent, biting into her bottom lip eyes shut tight. Eve dug her nails into Shuri’s back as she got close to the edge. “Omg! Baby im sooo clooosseee!” Shuri drilled faster reaching between them to play with Eve’s clit “I’m cuuummiiinnngg” Eve quickly reached her climax. Shuri pulled out pressing her kimoyo bead, retracting the strap and immediately fixing her clothes. 

“Shuri you didn’t even cum. I wanted you to fill me up baby! You weren’t as into it today.” Shuri remained quiet as her eyes began to water. What was she doing. “Baby, what’s wrong.”

“Stop”

“Stop what?”

“Calling me baby. I’m not your baby.” Eve scoffed. “Then what am I. You pay for my house, you bought this car, and you fuck me. I’d call that a relationship.”

“I’d call it bribery.” Shuri looked at Eve incredulously. “No. Don’t do that. I didn’t make you start fucking me again. You came to me.”

It was now Shuri’s turn to scoff as she buttoned her slacks. “You’re right. You didn’t make me fuck you again. But, I never came to you for shit! I ran into you. You looked good. I fucked up and you bribed me into buying shit for you and I thought I might as well get some pussy for my troubles. Don’t flatter yourself. Because I stopped wanting it a long time ago. You’re the one begging. ‘Shuri, I neeeeed it, I’m feening, you don’t want Y/n to find out do you.’”

“Puh-leez Shuri! For all the shit you put me through after you met that bitch. I deserve everything I get from you!” Shuri sat back with a huff. Rubbing a hand down her face. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Sighing she leaned her head back against the headrest closing her eyes. Once again she attempts to speak. “I-I’m sorry.” Eve immediately straightened up. She dared not say anything. She needed to hear the rest. “I know I never said it, I get it. I waisted four years of your life and when Y/n came along I threw it all away with no explanation. I get how that would make you feel less than.” A tear dropped from Eve’s eyes, she’d never expected to get an apology from Shuri. “I guess I never apologized before because it made me feel better making myself believe I did nothing wrong. So I’m going to say it now. What I did to you was wrong and I sincerely apologize. What we’re doing now is wrong and I’m once again being inconsiderate of your feelings, because I love that woman Eve.” 

“If you love her so much Shuri why are you here!?”

“Because I’m fucking stupid! I’m an idiot Eve and I’m going to loose her if I keep this up! You are a connection to my past. Everytime I think about Mother, o-or brother, or Baba, I find myself running to you because you were there and you knew and loved them just like me. But that doesn’t mean we’re good for eachother Eve. The truth is I was scared to move forward, scared to be happy. So I continuously do things to sabotage myself. It always feels good in the moment but afterwards I always regret it. Now it doesn’t even feel good anymore. I’m not scared of happy anymore Eve. I want to move forward.” 

They both sat in silence for a while before Eve broke it. “So what now?” Finally turning to face Shuri, she saw her staring at the car ceiling. Shuri reached up wiping at her nose. Turning to Eve, she spoke “Your house is paid for, this car is paid for. I can set up an account where I send you a monthly amount that we can agree upon. But we can’t see eachother anymore. I want to do better. Let’s let bygones be bygones, and leave this here.” Eve huffed.

“ You think it’s that easy for me Shuri? What if I love you.” Shuri’s head dropped shaking it from side to side. “You don’t Eve” She reached over gently touching the side of Eves face wiping a tear with her thumb. She closed the distance and placed a kiss onto her cheek. Pulling back she gave Eve one last once over before saying “I’m sorry” once more. With that she exited the car, and never looked back.

That was a year before she asked for your hand in marriage.

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the proposal and Christmas was near, snow was falling and the smell of cookies and eggnog was in the air. You were at the home Shuri had built for you both in Manhattan. You called it the entertainment home. It had a full studio, A bowling alley, A fully equipped theatre room, 3 kitchens a huge backyard built for entertainment and three Five bedroom Five and a half bathroom guest houses attached to it. It was were you worked with and entertained other artist and industry people. And if things ran late. They could always stay. You were here working; and starting on the planning for your wedding that you both decided would be in October. Shuri was in Washington on business with the avengers and would be joining you in Manhattan for awhile once her business was complete. 

The past few months had been some of the happiest of your life. Spending time celebrating with your fiancé. Actually doing sit down interviews together for the first time. Making love over and over and over. It didn’t matter where you were. You’d be quick to excuse yourselves to enjoy eachothers bodies. Currently you, your mom, your sister, your best friend Bruno, and his girlfriend Zoe were gathered at the kitchen island going over wedding destinations. Bruno being more so in the way. 

“Mommy, we have to have our first ceremony in Wakanda. The elders have to bless our wedding and I’ll be crowned Queen. I’m not marrying just anyone. We have to follow protocol. It’s going to be beautiful!” Grabbing an olive and a peice of cheese from the charcuterie board, your mom frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be beautiful, I just want everybody to see my baby getting married and crowned Queen. Why won’t you guys televise it.”

“Absolutely not! We could never give outsiders any view of Wakanda. You all were allowed in on the strength of me and were thoroughly investigated before you were granted entrance.” Your sister cuts in to save the day. “Mommy it is what it is. The first wedding will be private and in Wakanda case closed can we get to the second location. So we can get to the fun stuff!” Your mom rolled her eyes a smile ghosting over her lips. “There’s a fun part of planning a wedding” Bruno jumps in looking bored elbow on the island chin in hand as he scrolled on his phone looking agitated. “Why don’t you go to the arcade or something babe. I’m tired of looking at your pathetic little grumpy face.” Zoe says. “Please” “head on out” “make your exit” You all excuse Bruno at the same time, laughing. “Thank you ladies that sounds amazing. I’ll be taking these.” He grabbed a cup of the spiked eggnog and picked up the entire plate of cookies. “What are you doing!” All of you yell as he ran off laughing. “There’s literally so much food in the Ar-“ 

You were cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Which was odd because you weren’t expecting anyone and Griot  usually notified you of visitors. The only way you could be granted access to the property without being announced is if you had a specific kimoyo bead connected to the gate. So, you figured Shuri was home early with her hands full and couldn’t enter the code. “Bruno! Put that stuff down and make yourself useful. Answer the door!” He rolled his eyes as he put the drink and plate back on the island and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door Bruno was met with Eve. She wore a tan trench and brown leather gloves. A brimmed hat tilting slightly over her eyes. Her way of being inconspicuous. “ How can I help you?” Bruno asked curiously, eyes scanning the stranger, until they fell on a large Manila envelope. “Is Y/n here?” She said her Wakandan accent thick. 

“Yes. I could go get h-“

“No!” She quickly cut him off. “Just give her this for me.” She lifted the envelope to give to him. He hesitantly took it. But she didn’t immediately let go of the envelope causing him to look up at her. “Tell her I thought it was best she knew all of the information first. Only a small portion will be national. Tell her I’m sorry. It won’t be enough, but it was all I got for the hurt I was caused.” She let go of the envelope and strolled away. Bruno stood at the door watching her hop into a Jag and drive away. “Y/n!” He yelled before closing the door heading back into the kitchen. “Yo, that was some weird cryptic shit!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some lady was at the door. She told me to give you this. Said something about you should know all the information and She’s sorry” Your heart immediately jumped into your throat. Something in the atmosphere had changed. And something told you things were about to be different. “What did she look like? Did you get a name.” Your sister says.

“I can’t really tell you she had on a trench and her hat was covering her face but she sounded Wakandan.” You walk over to him eggnog in hand and take the envelope. “This is probably Shuri playing some type of kinky game” you laugh as you open it. You dump the contents of the envelope onto the island. Spreading them around with your hands. The mug slides out of your hand and crashes onto the floor.

————————————————————————

Shuri sat in the meeting manspread leaning back in her chair head perpendicular to the ceiling. Rocking a black turtleneck and black slacks with black and gold heeled boots. Accessorized with her Kimoyo earrings, a three layer gold chain, a gold Rolex, and her fingers adorned with several rings. Her perfectly tailored trench coat was draped across the back of her chair. Your fiancé was scrumptious as usual, and she was anxious to get back to New York to be with her fiancé; but this pointless meeting was the only thing holding her up. “Could you atleast act like your interested” Peter exhaled.

“But I’m not and I took a vow of honesty”  She rolled her eyes.

“Panther, I think you have bigger problems right now” Colonel Rhodes announced as he walked into the room changing the monitors to CNN. 

News Anchor One: -Young lady claims to be the ex-girlfriend to recently engaged Queen of Wakanda, Who we all know is engaged to pop super star y/n y/l/n. She released documents proving the Queen has been paying her off to keep quiet about the illicit affair. 

News Anchor Two: That’s right Nadine. There are also some explicit photos and videos of the pair that have been leaked it’s pretty clear who it is. The young lady is well known model Eve Wanimi. I can only imagine how Y/n is feeling right now this is such a sad situation.

The voices slowly fade from Shuri’s ears as the walls close in around her. Everyone in the room was dead silent. Heat radiated through her entire body. Her eyes watered and her hands were clammy, and shaking. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. Nakia, and Okoye had accompanied Shuri on this trip with thoughts of celebrating the holidays with You and Shuri and helping with wedding planning. They rushed inside the room beside Shuri who was stuck staring at the screen that she’d tuned out long ago. A look of disbelief frozen on her face. Nakia placed her hands on top of Shuri’s hands, that were frantically twisting and pulling on the rings upon her fingers.

“Shuri.” Nakia spoke softly. “Shuri let’s get you out of here. Ok” She didn’t move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. She’d done everything she told Eve she was going to do. The affair ended almost two years ago and she hadn’t missed a payment. Why was she doing this? A tear fell from her eye. “We’re going to have to move her Nakia. We’ve got to get her to the ship before the media figures out she’s here and starts to swarm.” Nakia nods as they both get on either side of Shuri grabbing her arms and wrapping them around their necks. They lift her to her feet, snapping her out her trance. “Hey, we gotta get you to the ship Shuri. Are you good to walk?” Shuri nods. “Let’s go” She grabbed her coat from her chair and stormed out of the room fast not acknowledging anyone in the room as she left, Okoye and Nakia trailing behind her. 

All eyes were on her as she walked out of the room. Her usual perfect posture slightly slumped. She was starting to feel like she was choking, her breathing becoming irratic. ‘Just get to the ship, just get to the ship’. Once at the glass doors of the building they could see media gathering at a respectable distance; but they saw her and the flashes began. “Take off your jacket Shuri.” Nakia grabbed at the sleeve helping her pull the sleeve of the trench as Shuri pulled her arm out. She takes off the jacket and they cover her head guiding her out of the building to the car that would take them to the hanger. As soon as the door opened they began to rush. “Your highness, is it true that you’ve been having a salacious affair with your ex!” “Is it true she’s stayed in you and y/n’s shared home when she was away?” “Are you Ashamed your highness?” Other Avengers immediately came out to help. “She is not making any statements today!” “This is government property please remove yourselves” “Leave her the fuck alone!” 

They got into the car, the driver honking as he pulled off, giving the reporters warning to move out of the way. The ride was quiet as Shuri sat forward elbows to knees her fingers locked into her curls, as her forehead pressed into her palms. The car came to a stop as they finally reached the hanger. They exit the car and enter the ship. Upon entering Shuri immediately began to pace. “Shuri what the hell is going on. Are you cheating on y/n with Eve.” Nakia gave her the most disgusted look she could muster. Shuri looked into Nakia’s eyes shaking her head. “I I-it. I need to call her. Maybe I can get ahead of it before she sees huh? Griot call umfazi wam” She says voice rattling in her chest. “Calling umfazi wam, Panther” They all stare at the projection as the beads chimed. Once, twice, three times. The call ended. Shuri continued to stare at the projection. You’d discontinued the call. “Panther, It seems Umfazi wams beads have been destroyed.” 

Her heart dropped into her stomach. You knew. Shuri sat. Slouching into her seat, a tingling numbness taking over her body. She bit into the pillow of her bottom lip chewing nervously. A wet exhale escaping her lungs. “Take me to her.” Okoye walked away getting ready for take off as Nakia sat across from Shuri. Tears began to pool in Shuri’s eyes and she turned to look out of the window as they took off. Her thumbs nervously fiddle with the rings on her fingers as her bottom lip began to quiver and the tears fell. She began letting out painful huffs of breath to try and settle herself. Nakia got up kneeling in front of her grabbing hold of her hands. “I’m going to *deep breath* I’m going to lose her Nakia. She’s going to leave me.” Her head falls as she began to sob.

“No, no. I don’t know what the story is. But, you can’t panick now. You have to get yourself together so you can talk to her. You have to prepare yourself to tell her the truth, and see where it goes. But you can’t unravel right now.”

“I’m scared, I’m not afraid of much, but I’m afraid of loosing her Nakia. I love that woman with all of my being. She’s already given me a chance when I didn’t deserve it. I fear this is it.”

Shuri looked at Nakia searching for reassurance that wasn’t there. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for what awaited her once they landed.

————————————————————————

They all sat in silence. The ship had landed about fifteen minutes ago. Shuri sat staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Whatever happened once she stepped off this aircraft would be final. And no secenario she conjured up turned out well. “Prolonging speaking with her won’t change the outcome Shuri” Okoye spoke. “I just need a moment” 

“You’ve had several. The longer you sit here, the less likely you are to go through with this.” Shuri swallowed. Suddenly she stood putting on her trench, she placed a skully on her head covering her hears, her curls that lay neatly on her forehead still making an appearance. Putting on her gloves. She took a deep breath and made her way toward the exit. Leaving Nakia and Okoye behind. 

The walk from the ship to the front porch of the house felt too short. Like she was being sent to the electric chair. Walking up the steps she decided she’d ring the doorbell instead of just walking in to give herself time to think. She pressed the button and immediately her entire body went hot. She stood waiting shuffling from one foot to the other. And then the door opened.

Bruno stood before Shuri. His face draining color once he saw her. “Ay, Shuri. I gotta be real with you. I don’t think it’s the best time for you to be here. Maybe give her a day or two.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in the living room with my girl, Dani, and her mom but I-“

“No I’m right here.” Bruno’s shoulders dropped as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Moving slightly over but still standing between you and Shuri. Shuri’s lips began trembling the moment she connected eyes with you. Your eyes were swollen red and puffy, face bare wearing large pajamas and your hair was wild. 

“Come in Shuri it’s freezing out there.” Bruno said before you quickly intercepted. “No Shuri, you stay right there. Why are you here?” Suddenly, Shuri felt the chill of the snowy night all too well. Your mom and sister appeared behind you staying at a distance. “I-I came to talk. To explain myself” you let out a chuckle that sent chills down her spine. “Oh she’s here to explain herself guys. This should be good. Let’s hear it!” You smiled, and it was chilling. Crossing your arms over your chest tapping your foot and raising your brow, you give her the floor. Shuri licked her lips squeezing her fists as her anxiousness kicked up a notch. “Y/n can I come in and we could just talk about this alone.”  Her voice trembled as she spoke.

You scoff, “Alone! Everybody in the world knows you’re a fucking a cheater Shuri, no need for privacy now, so you can speak were you stand or get the fuck off my porch.” In the years you’d been with Shuri, you always handled her gently. Hardly ever raising your voice. Today, you spoke hard and callous. Looking deep in your eyes she searched for the love that was always there. It was missing. Shuri began to panick. She felt out of breath just standing, trying to speak as she looked inbetween all of you. “I-It’s t-true” she let out. “But I ended it a year before I proposed. I swear I haven’t cheated since. I’ve changed Y/n I promise you.” You nod impatiently, biting your lip to control your anger. “Thank you for the explanation. Explain something else to me. Will you? Tell me how long had we been together before you proposed Shuri hm?” 

“T-two years.”

“Two fucking years. Ding ding, correct! Your a genius for a reason huh… so tell me mathematician. If we were together for two years before you proposed and you ended things with Eve a year before. That would mean you cheated on me for a year of our relationship. Not to mention the five months you spent pursuing me! ‘Making it right’ for the last time you had me fucked up with Eve. Would I be correct?!” Your voice was coming out hoarse with emotions but your point was coming across crystal clear. Shuri was continuously blinking back tears as she tried to control her breathing. She nodded as she used the back of her glove to wipe at her eyes. “Yes” She let out with a breath. “During that time you bought her house, and if I’m not mistaken that Jag she’s riding around in too?” Shuri bit the inside of her cheek as she turned her head away nodding again, not bothering to speak knowing her voice would betray her. “$300,000 a month, that’s the amount of hush money you send her so she can maintain her lifestyle. While you also still cover all of her properties expenses. Don’t bother. that one wasn’t a question.”

Shuri’s head dropped in defeat. “Anything else you want to explain yourself about? Or is that everything Shuri?” Her head shook from side to side breathing becoming shallow, she could feel herself weakening. “Oh really?” You walk out of eyesight into the kitchen grabbing the envelope, quickly coming back reaching over Bruno and dumping the contents inside at Shuri’s feet. “That there says there’s a whole lot more to tell.” Shuri looked at the photos that were facing upward and that was the moment she lost hope. “Multiple. Several fucking women in the span of a year.” You say calmly. Shuri officially couldn’t breath. “You bitches were having orgy’s! Ha! She brought you all the hoes huh? While I worked and stayed faithful. Missing you! Seems like she was a blast! Huh. She was nice enough to leave that out of the media for you though.” You were now in a puddle of tears. Your sister began to step up now but your mom held up her arm holding her back for the time being allowing you and Shuri to have your moment with Bruno tucked safely between you two. 

Shuri opened and closed her mouth not having any words. Her head was swimming and she felt faint. All she could muster was an “I’m sorry.” And with that something snapped inside of you. “Sorry.” You repeated. “She’s sorry! You hear that everybody THE QUEEN is sorry!” You threw your head back in manic laughter, your sister already clocking the signs stepped forward, but not quick enough. You charged toward the door clearing Bruno before he could get a hold of you. Just as your hand was about to connect with Shuri’s face She stepped back in shock slipping on a patch of ice. She fell back on her butt, but you continued charging as everyone tried pulling you back, you broke free again, and tried to making contact with her face again. She fell all the way back and threw both hands up crossing them over her face as you threw blows that only connected with her forearms. Okoye and Nakia heard the commotion and ran over to assist. “FUCK YOOOOUUUU!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Tears streaming down your face. 

“I loved you all the time! I was faithful to you all the time! And you had me out her looking ssstuuuupiiiid!” you were still struggling to break free as Shuri still lay on the ground hands still blocking her face her legs curled in fetal position as she rocked from side to side, hyperventilating and repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“LEAVE! Stay the fuck away from me! Get her away from me! Get her away from me!”

“I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go” Shuri repeated hysterically. Everyone was in tears. 

“Get her in the house!” Your mom yells to Bruno and your sister as Zoe comes out and helps them pull you inside shutting the door behind them. Leaving your mom, Nakia and Okoye outside with Shuri who now lie on the snow covered porch in fetal position clutching her stomach she lets out a blood curdling scream that was accompanied by body racking sobs “Pleeaaassseee! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. I changed, I changed!” 

Your mom sat in the snow next to Shuri and placed her head in her lap, rubbing her back. “You gotta try and calm yourself Shuri.” She said calmly as Nakia and Okoye watched shedding tears. Shuri couldn’t calm herself. She’d run hundreds of scenarios in her head. Never did she picture it turning out this badly. Shuri’s sobs became hoarse and shallow and she began to wheeze. “She’s gonna pass out. She’ll be alright her body needs it that’s the only way she’s gonna be calm” No later than your mom said the words Shuri’s body went limp. And she was silent save for a few whimpers. Your mom stroked the side of her face and leaned down placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I wish it turned out different baby girl.” She looked up at Okoye. “Take her” Okoye approached lifting Shuri from the ground laying her head on her shoulder. “Thank you” Nakia says as they take Shuri back to the ship and head back to Wakanda.

————————————————————————

Shuri woke up in a bed on the aircraft. Her head was pounding and her eyes were glued shut with the crust of her tears. Nakia got a notification from griot that Shuri had woken up, and hurriedly grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, heading to the bedroom. 

As she entered the room. Shuri was pulling herself up to lean against the headboard. “Hey there Usisi.” Nakia whispers. Shuri looks at Nakia as she hands her the opened bottle of water. She took a large gulp feeling extremely parched. Looking back at Nakia, she asks the question that had been on her mind since she’d opened her eyes. “Was I dreaming?” Nakia looked down, hesitantly shaking her head side to side. Shuri nodded to herself, looking away, jaws clenching. The feeling of loss flooding her chest once again. “So, I lost her?” Nakia didn’t have words, but they all knew the answer y/n was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Shuri couldn’t think of a gesture in the world that would make up for her transgressions. She could see it in your eyes that this time you were done. “I lost her.”

————————————————————————

Opening the door to the place you and her had called home in Wakanda, a waft of air brushed against Shuri’s face. The smell of you both combined hit Shuri like a ton of bricks. Knowing that over time the lingering smell of you would slowly dwindle and all that would be left was hers. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it taking in her surroundings. The memories flood her mind, she felt as though she was drowning. Releasing a low groan she slid down the door, as she hit the floor she heard a ruffling underneath her. She reached under her finding a Manila envelope. Her heart rate picked up as she slowly opened it. Inside she found a picture of her and Eve with a note attached. In the photo they were younger. Teenagers, about sixteen. Shuri’s head lay in Eves lap, on a couch in the common area of the palace looking up at her smiling, as Eve looked down adoringly at Shuri. Shuri began reading the note. 

I did. I did love you Shuri. And watching you love her was killing me. How could you throw us away so easily?

Shuri threw the picture and note to the side as her tears reappeared. “Bast.” She whispered. Now she understood. She’d underestimated the amount of love Eve had for her. It always seemed as though she was just in it for the status. Figuring that Eve would let her go if she took care of her financially had ultimately been her downfall. Feeling sick to her stomach. Shuri crawled to the bathroom, crying so uncontrollably she began to dry heave until the contents of her stomach released themselves. What kind of person was she really? Nakia had been right. She should’ve healed before continuing a relationship with either of these women. Now she’d scorned her first love, causing her to lose the love of her life. 

“I made a promise to you Bast. That I would give my all to her. That I would be better and I am better.” She sat on the floor of the bathroom at one of the lowest pointsof her life. Hiccuping from all the tears she was shedding. Once again finding herself finding solace in Bast. “I will continue to be better. I want to make my family proud. And Bast, I want to make her proud. I want her to know it wasn’t a front. I became better because I wanted to be better for me, so that I could be the best for her. I need her to know that.”

————————————————————————

Living without you proved to be difficult. Shuri couldn’t sleep in the room, so most nights she spent working tirelessly in her lab, not sleeping, not eating. She’d closed herself off and never ventured out of Wakanda for the first year. She’d find herself still sending gifts, and letters of apology. All of them going ignored. Your mom and her would speak often but she wouldn’t give information about you. Just let Shuri know you were ok, and make sure that she was doing ok as well. She wasn’t. Not until one day, after about three months, she finally collapsed. 

She was walking the halls feeling ill and her body gave out. A Dora saw her falling and caught her just in time. She was starved, dehydrated, and overworked. They’d taken her to the med bay and made her stay. Force fed her through tubes and gave her meds to make her sleep. There she had to face herself. And with the help and the guidance of those who loved her. She became strong again. When she’d been released back to her home, it was a little easier. But she looked in the mirror and what she saw didn’t resemble how she felt. Grabbing the clippers from the drawer she cut her hair as low as possible. She was now 27. She’d grown and learned so much. Now she looked in the mirror and saw the mature woman she was. Afterward, she ran a bath, taking the time to reflect, only shedding a few tears. Progress. Putting on her silk pajamas once she was out and applying her shea butter, for the first time since you left her. She slept in her bed.

————————————————————————

Present

Shuri woke up still in the center of the bed, fully dressed down to the shoes. Groggy, from crying. Sitting up, she saw that it was now dark outside. Checking the time she saw it was 2:33 am. Standing from the bed she walked to the bathroom, running the tap and splashing water on her face as she looked into the mirror. She took a towel drying her face and ridding it of all the dried tears. Still not having the energy to get undressed, she just unbuttoned her blazer and walked out. Grabbing her drink off of the night stand and taking a sip, she walked towards the living room. Sitting in an accent chair in the corner across from the door to the hotel room. Placing her drink next to the lamp on the table beside the chair, she turned on the dim lamp. Manspread, head leaned, backeyes closed, blazer opened so far it barely covered her breast. “Griot, play American soul music” 

“Playing American soul music” 

Piano sounded softly throughout the room as “Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men began to play. Taking a deep breath she took another sip of her drink. Suddenly, she heard a card being swiped at the door. Not bothering to look up or open her eyes as the door opened, already knowing who it was. Shuri called out softly “Nakia, I thought I told you I wanted to be left alone.” She heard the door shut and a couple of steps were taken. When a voice responded softly “Hey. Sweet Lady”

Shuri froze, she unconsciously squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Believing she was hearing things. The room was silent, except for the music, as you waited for Shuri to process. “Open your eyes Shuri” you finally say, realizing that she wasn’t going to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, looking forward seeing your silhouette, the lamp casting a soft glow onto one side your face. Her chest felt tight at the sight of you. Your perfectly curvy body, clothed in a white form fitting maxi dress. Your beautiful natural hair had been taken out of it’s updo and it fell heavy at your waist in all it’s full kinky glory, just the way she’d always liked it. You looked like an Angel. Shuri’s hands shook as she reached for her drink. Taking a sip and placing it back down as you two stared at one another from your respective places. 

“How did you find me?”

“Nakia.”

“She sent for you?”

“No. I reached out to her.”

Shuri was taken a back. “Why?” She whispered. “I don’t know” you answer honestly. Once again Shuri grabbed the drink, at this point it was just there to give her hands something to do. She leaned foreward knees on her elbows both hands cupping the glass. Her voice shook as she spoke. “Congratulations are in order yes?” You look down at your feet unable to maintain the intense eye contact. You had forgotten the effect Shuri had on your body. She’d matured beautifully since you’d last seen her and it made you feel things you weren’t allowed to. Why did you come here? “Married. Wow.” She chuckled with no humor behind it. “I really fucked us up.” You remained silent, looking down. Shuri stood as another song began to play. A song she’d listened to many times since you’d left.  One that said all the words she couldn’t find as she made her way toward you. 

I need your forgiveness

And your mercy too

I must be all kinda crazy

For what I've done to you

I hope you understand

That my heart is true

Mistakes, I've made 'em

But I'm making change for you

Shuri was now in your space, her powerful presence starting to feel suffocating. She stood in front of you intense eyes trailing your body up and down, before settling on your face. “Bast, you’re more beautiful than I remember.” Walking away she drained the rest of her drink and placed the glass on a nearby table. The last time you saw this woman you’d left her in a literal ball in the snow. Now you couldn’t gather your thoughts enough to speak to her. Next thing you knew she was back in front of you. “May I touch you, sthandwa”. Without looking up and without thinking you nod. Slowly Shuri’s hand came up to grab your chin. Pulling your eyes up to meet hers. That’s when you finally saw the tears. The red rimmed eyes. You noticed the shake in her hands. 

Have I learned is your question

And my answer I have

“I never got the chance to express to you how sorry I am. But I don’t t-think there are words that I could say that would suffice. Ndophukile (I’m broken). I’ve learned to function, but everyday I suffer with the loss of you. And sorry will never be enough. I know it’s too late. But I wanted to say it now that I have the opportunity. I was young and dumb, and hurting and I should never have dragged you into it. I should’ve waited, healed and come back to you better. But I was also selfish, by the time I’d gotten better, the damage had been done. Everyday I lived in fear that the things I’d done would catch up to me. And they did. And it hurts baby girl. It ( trembling exhale) Hurtssss” The S turned into a sob as tears streamed down her face. She grabbed ahold of both sides of your face. As if on command your hands came up to hold her wrist. Placing her forehead against yours, you trembled under her touch.

I know why you left me

But since you've been gone

My understanding

Has more than grown

I've come to this conclusion

Over and over again

I don't want an enemy

I just want back my friend

You step closer, removing a hand from her wrist you place it on her bare skin revealed by the open blazer. She lets out a soft breath closing her eyes basking in your touch, as your hand lingers on her toned stomach before gliding around her waist pulling her closer to you. You both released shuddered breaths as your bodies connected. Shuri dropped her hand from your face. One going to your waist the other went underneath your hair to grip the back of your neck as she nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent. 

Oh, I'm ashamed of me 

I wish I never done you wrong

Every night of us I dream

That I wake up in your arms

Shuri sang the lyrics into your neck, sending vibrations throughout your body. You’d always loved Shuri’s singing voice. You’d begged her to do a song with you, but she’d always say her voice was for your ears only. The combination of her voice, the meaning of the lyrics, and the feel of her pressed against you again after so long, sent signals straight to your core. Both of your hearts thumped loudly against one another. As you stood in the embrace.

Wish I could say sorry

Oh, and you come back home

Hey, baby, yeah

I was diamonds can do it

So I wouldn't have to be alone

Yeah, hey

If I knew then what I know now

Everything would be fine

I’m soooo ashaaamed

Shuri’s voice broke as she sung. And suddenly you both were on your knees in a full embrace. Both of your hands around Shuri’s waist inside of her jacket. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your noses brushing against eachothers, wrapped up in eachother like you never wanted to let go. “I wish I’d never done you wrong” She speaks through her tears. Unwrapping her arms she slides down your body head lying on your chest. As she completely broke in your arms. 

I'm ashamed of me, yeah

I'm ashamed of all the lies I told

Wish I’d come home, wish I’d  come home at night

Girl, I wish I've never creeped, oh, Lordy

(I'm ashamed of me) said I'm ashamed

Baby, I thought there was something better out there for me, yeah 

You broke with her. Lifting her head to face you as sobs shook her body. The powerful woman that was before you when you entered was long gone. Before you, was a woman aching for your love, someone who had learned long before she lost you, but still had to suffer the consequences of her betrayal. With everything she’d lost, she’d learned and grown and become a better woman. And you wanted her, you wanted nothing more than to fall back into the arms of the woman you loved. But you were married. You leaned down to Shuri and placed a peck on her lips. Then another, then another as she sat up onto her knees, allowing her better access to your lips. The next peck lasted longer until you were in a full blown French kiss. She’d pulled up your dress, picking you up and placing you in her lap. Both of your hands going to the back of her neck, as you tried to swallow her mouth. You began grinding against her as her hands gripped underneath your ass spreading you apart. You released her lips and hungrily began to attack her neck. “Ssssss fuck y/n”. The sound of her pleasure sent a jolt through your body, causing you to moan out as your core leaked with want. The feeling made you pull back. Snapping out of it, both of your breathing was heavy as you looked into her eyes. You knew then you were still very much in love with Shuri Udaku. You immediately hop out of her lap. 

“I-I gotta go. I’m sorry I came here.” You say as you head to the door. 

“Y/n baby wait! Please!” You stop still facing the door. 

“I’m married Shuri.” You spoke in a shaky voice. 

“I can’t do this without you sthandwa. I-I just can’t.” She pleaded. Finally you turned to look at her. Fresh tears falling. 

“You can and you have to, because we’re done.” Turning away, you walk out and close the door behind you. Leaving Shuri, The Queen and Black Panther on her knees, for the final time. 

Baby, I’m ashamed

I'm so sorry, babe

I'm so sorry

—————————————-————————————

A/n: This is the Final Chapter of Shame!! Thank you guys so much for reading I hope you all enjoyed this series as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😘

[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter two | joel miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 2763

Warnings: 18+ Blog; little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff— that’s all I’m saying, reader has a name but is a blank slate with zero description,

A/N: I was eager to get this part written and out as soon as possible. Chapter 3 might take me a minute to get out, just a heads up. Thanks so much to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the best and listening to me stress over this 💞

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Previous / Next

September 22, 2003 - 4 Days until Outbreak

The summer still lingers in Texas, the air dense and muggy. 

Heat shimmering over the hood of your car as you drive, the blasting of cool air is the only saving grace you have for the time being.

“Hey, it’s me. I wanted to talk to you about something when you get here. Umm— Shit! I hate this so much. *sigh* I miss you Eve…A-and I love you so, so fucking much. I guess— I guess I’ll see you in a bit. Drive safe. Bye.”

*BEEP*

“End of messages. You have no new messages.”

A heavy sigh huffs out of your chest, you press the red ‘end call’ button and toss the small phone into your passenger seat. 

His voice still has such an effect on you after all this time, the little flutter it elicited the second it reverberated into the speaker has you almost fighting back tears. 

You blink them away quickly as you reach for the stereo volume, turning it up to a somewhat higher but bearable level, the local station plays through some hit song you haven’t heard before.

The steering wheel is rigid as you readjust your grip, a slight glint of light pulls your gaze briefly from the road ahead, the small gold band that cradles a tiny diamond shines brightly on your left hand. 

Refocusing on the road, your mind wanders to when you had both found the ring, your small income not offering a lot towards something with more extravagance, but you were the opposite of flashy so it was perfect. 

You remember the sight of him immediately dropping to one knee the minute you both stepped out of the small jewelry store, its parking lot the backdrop for the proposal you both had planned together. 

Yes! flew from your mouth instantly as you dropped down into his arms, the celebratory kiss only lasting briefly as the asphalt began to nearly burn through your jeans. 

Meeting the love of your life at 18 and planning your life together at 22 felt right, even despite the apprehension from both of your parents, convinced you were throwing your lives away. 

You wish you could say the last 14 years were nothing short of pure wedded bliss, the last few years were trying as you both worked yourselves to make ends meet, even in your 30’s trying to stay afloat was no easy feat. 

The separation wasn't an easy decision. It broke your heart to even suggest such a thing, but you needed a break from the fighting and the tears, some space to clear your head and let things settle down before reevaluating what was best for both of you. 

The love you had for him was still so strong and you held on to it fiercely, allowing time to heal the small fractures in your heart. You had hoped that your decision for this arrangement you had been living for the last 2 months, wasn't one you would regret in the long run. 

Your friends assured you it was just a rough patch, something all couples dealt with at some point in their lives, trying to alleviate any hesitancy you were having that this was the end for your relationship. You knew you didn’t want an end, you had looked into options to work on things, hoping he would be on board and this would be a start to a new beginning. 

“You know, he cries too. And he thinks I can’t tell, but I do.” A voice drifts from the back seat. 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying, hoping the music muffled your sniffling as you promptly wiped your face, knowing she can tell with you too. 

You catch her reflection in the rear view mirror, her gaze focused out the window, there's a soft but somber look on her face— you hate that you’re the cause of any sadness she is hiding from you. 

Shifting your eyes back to the road as you turn into a quiet neighborhood. The small street is lined with modest homes and memories of block party cookouts on holiday weekends, kids running the sidewalks as their popsicles melt down their small hands and families bringing home newest editions to continue adding new memories. 

The two story red brick with white trim house is nestled further down the cul de sac, it was the perfect starter home for two young adults who threw their savings and a hefty bank loan into it. 

Guilt builds in your chest the closer you get, knowing it’s a quick visit before you leave, it hasn't gotten easier and each time only adding to the pain you feel of not pulling in that driveway permanently. 

“He’s going to be bummed you won’t be here this weekend, I can already see his grumpy face.”

Parking the car along the curb in front of the house and killing the engine, you turn to look to the back seat. 

“Please don’t say anything, just let me tell him okay?” You can already see his furrowed brow line and puppy dog eyes, for as handsome as he is, he wears his grumpiness well. 

“Are you going to tell him you’re moving back home too?” 

“What? How did you—“

“I heard you talking to grandma this morning, you both aren’t the quietest people, even when you think you’re being quiet. Just tell him, please. I don’t think he can take it much longer.” 

“Yes, I’ll tell him.”

“Promise?”

“I promise— Gosh, since when did the roles reverse here? I swear, you were just 5 begging for your training wheels to come off. What the heck happened?”

“I turned 14 and wondered when my parents were going to come to their senses.” 

“Alright, get your stuff baby girl. Don’t forget your school books too.” 

“Got it!” Grabbing her overnight bag and backpack, books tucked under her arm as she exits the car. 

You grab the small package out of the glove box and take a minute to calm your nerves, the air sticking to your skin the moment you step out of the car. 

“Give me a hug.” Opening your arms to your daughter, grateful that even at 14 she still loves giving her parents hugs. “I’m gonna miss you, but I’ll call you when I get there ok?” Your cheek squished against the side of her head as you squeeze her a little tighter. 

“Did you get the gift?” She looks up at you. 

You hold up the silver box, giving a little shake, its contents knocking about slightly. You both smile at the remembrance of picking it out, the shopping trip to the mall last night week, searching every store for the perfect gift. It took 10 stores, a pretzel and a pit stop to Claire’s before you both settled on it— the perfect style and color to match his rugged look. 

“Do you want to give it to him?” You ask her. 

“No, you can. I’m going to grab something to eat before we leave for school.” 

Another round of hugs, several small kisses to the top of her head and a string of ‘I love yous’ before she leaves you on the sidewalk to head inside. 

The front door opens before she’s even made it up the driveway. 

“Hey Dad!” Throwing herself into his arms. 

Watching their embrace sends a wave of emotion through you, their bond is something you’ve always loved, only getting stronger as she’s gotten older. 

You can’t hear what they're talking about from where you’re standing, hushed giggles and smiles exchanged before she makes her way inside. 

The roar of a pickup truck grabs your attention as it parks in front of the garage, the door slamming shut before you see him round the front of the truck. 

“Eve! You finally comin’ to take my asshole brother back? He keeps mopin’ around like a lost puppy. Makes him a pain in the ass to deal with truthfully— if not for him, do it for me sweetheart!” His hands up in a praying manner, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh at how dramatic he is first thing in the morning. 

“Tommy, shut the fuck up and leave her alone will ya. Go on an’ head inside, I’ll be there in a minute. Sarah’s probably cooking up some eggs or somethin’— make sure she doesn’t burn the house down.” His voice sounds better when he’s standing 2 feet away from you, shouting at his idiot brother who is retreating to the house in search of food that was mentioned. 

“Hey.” The tension leaves his shoulders, dropping the minute he gets a good look at you, his smile on full display. 

It had been a week since you had last seen him, dropping Sarah off at your parents where you’ve been staying for the last 2 months. 

“Hi, Joel.” 

He hesitates for a moment, not sure whether to give you a hug or not, you make the decision for him and lean into his solid body wrapping your arms around him instantly, his brain taking a second to register the gesture before reciprocating earnestly. You breathe in his freshly showered scent— woodsy and warm, like a mountain forest after a raining day. 

The hug lingers on for a while, neither of you speaking a word, savoring the embrace fully before releasing each other. 

“How’s things been? Your parents good?” Hands fidgeting at his side, nerves starting to tick off as he searches for things to ask you. 

“Yeah, things are good— things are going well.” Your voice fluttering, your own nerves making you feel like a middle schooler talking to her crush for the first time between classes. “My parents are good, too— they said to tell you hello.” 

Another beat of silence, not really sure what to say next. 

“Oh— this is for you.” You hand him the box you’ve been gripping tightly since you left the car. “It’s from Sarah and I, she insisted it was something you would like— Happy Birthday, Joel.” 

Joel opens the lid to reveal a watch— a simple black watch face with matte silver casing and a green fabric band. Pulling it from the box he takes a better look at it, holding the weight of it in his large callused hand. 

“Thanks— I love it.” And you know he means it, his genuine smile lights up his face making his beautiful brown eyes shine and crinkle up on the sides. 

“Here, let me help you put it on.” Grabbing the watch from his hand. 

Sliding the watch band around his wrist, his skin is soft against your fingertips as you maneuver the buckle in place— his forearm taut, muscles and tendons flexed and firm from years of working with his hands. His broad frame, all skilled and capable of handling any kind of physical demands, taking on any task with ease— from the way he held the tools that aided in remodeling every issue the house had when you moved in, to the way he gently held your newborn in the early hours of the morning and how he would hold you every night as you slept beside him— his body built for protecting the ones he loves the most. 

You find it hard to let him go, your hands loitering over his hand, wanting nothing more than for him to pull you back against him, and you think he is going to when he grabs your left hand. His focus was first on your wedding ring, he’d spent the last 2 months worried you would remove it— his thumb smoothes over the gold band, then wrapping his hand around tenderly yours. 

His eyes move from where your hands are joined to your face, watching how you’re still looking at the way he’s holding your hand, how you meet his eyes after a brief moment and the world around you is still. 

“I was thinking we could try counseling—“

“I talked to a lawyer—“

You both speak at the same time, Joel’s face instantly morphing from hope to heartbreak at the way you mention talking to a lawyer. 

“Hey, don’t get all worried on me, it was just my mom’s friend from Bunco.” You start to explain, your hand cupping his face. “She’s a retired lawyer I should say— she proposed I start writing down my thoughts in the form of letters, writing the things I've been wanting to say to you or how I’ve been feeling— anyway, she also suggested we try counseling too. Said it can help get things back on track, that it would be good for us.” 

Joel releases the breath he was holding, relief settling into his handsome features. 

“Yeah— I think it would be good for us too. I got the number of someone who specializes in marriage counseling, they were highly recommended.” 

Your heart swells at the effort he’s putting into fighting for you, to fight for your marriage. 

“Okay. Set us up a meeting with them and send me all the details.” 

His hands settle into your hips, yours on his arms, the distance between you slowly closing. 

“Okay. I wanted to ask you, no pressure or anything— Sarah wanted to get a cake on Friday for my birthday, she insists on it actually. Would you want to join us?”

“You know I would love to—” You pause, gathering all your thoughts before letting him know you wouldn’t be able to. 

“Definitely feels like there’s a but coming.” His brows knit together as he waits for the rest of your letdown. 

“I’m heading out of town, today actually. I picked up a few shifts down in Laredo at their hospital— it’s been planned for several weeks now, so I can’t get out of it.” 

You had been working as a traveling nurse for the last 6 months, picking up shifts all over the state and working as much as possible to continue to help with the endless amount of bills. 

“But— I put in for a permanent position at St. David’s. They were looking for a new head of triage, so I applied— and it would keep me closer to home.”

“Home? Like here home?” His head nudged in the direction of the house behind him, hands gripping tighter on your hips at the prospect of you moving back in. 

“Yeah. I was thinking— I should be back early next week after my shifts are through and if it’s okay with you, I can start moving back in on Monday evening?” 

“Eve, you don’t even have to ask. I would love nothin’ more than to have my wife home with me. Should we tell Sarah now or wait ‘til you get back?”

“She already knows— teenagers and the way their hearing only picks up on the things not meant for them. Although, I think she was secretly plotting something.” 

Laughter fills the air between you, his forehead now resting against yours. 

“I love you, Eve. I promise things are going to be different.”

“I love you so much. we’ll get through this together.”

Joel’s hand moves to tilt your chin up slightly, his gaze flitting between your eyes and lips, searching for any sign of rejection from you. 

Your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks at the sensation of Joel’s lips molding against yours, pulling you flush to him, your hands carding through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

It doesn’t take much for the kiss to deepen, weeks of pent up emotion pouring into every little detail of it. 

“Would you two get a room already?” Sarah shouts from the front door. 

“Yeah, get a fuckin’ room you animals.” Tommy always needing to add his own commentary. 

The kiss over sooner than you would have liked. 

“I should get going, I’ve got a 4 hour drive ahead of me.” 

“Will you— will you call me when you get there? Let me know you made it safe?”

“Sure. I’ll call once I get settled into my hotel room.”

He kisses you one last time before letting you go, watching as you head back to your car. 

Pulling the driver door open you pause, looking to Joel the house then to Sarah, blowing them a kiss and a final wave.

“I’ll see you all next week!” You say before getting into your car and driving back down the street towards the main road, watching their reflection in the mirror get smaller and smaller as they wave you one final goodbye.  

Next

[pardonmydelays]

clancy tour (watching a livestream) essay 🙏

anon, this question made me so unbelievably happy omg. i just can't get around to the eras tour essay, however, i do feel the need to write, so we're doing this instead.

for the context: i woke up at 5:30 today to watch the livestream of clancy LA show. no, i wasn't there in person. but mentally i was.

please, listen to this incredible playlist while you read my essay (no one's gonna read, it mark my words):

i have decided we will just go through the entire setlist. i don't want to make this too long but i wanna talk about EVERY. SINGLE. SONG. let's fucking go.

OVERCOMPENSATE

so this is when i started crying. who the fuck cries on overcompensate, you would ask... well, me, apparently. i honestly think this is the best opener for both, an album and a show. this song gives me so much serotonin i can't even explain it. i'm always worried about tyler tho because his entrance looks dangerous (the jump, the jump, I AM TALKING ABOUT THE JUMP!). nothing bad happened tho, thankfully. i also noticed he was wearing the other version of clancy jacket today, the one with the hood. not that it's important, but it kinda is. for me at least.

HOLDING ON TO YOU

ok, so if you know me you probably know this is my ultimate favourite twenty one pilots song. and the live performance is even better with the crowd stand at the beginning (i swear to god, it's so incredible to me how much trust tyler has for the clique), clancy mask and lightbulb mic (you can tell tyler has a lot of fun with it), and my favourite part - josh's piano backflip during the bridge of the song. fucking iconic. what's not to love.

VIGNETTE

first thing i want to talk about is the insane transition from holding on to you to vignette. honestly, all transitions are so fucking amazing on clancy tour, it's impressive. now, tyler's little dance during this song is one of the most adorable things i've ever seen (he is such a cat omg) and and and! NEIL BANGING OUT THE TUNES!!! i'll be honest with you, because of this part vignette became one of my favourite songs from clancy and definitely one of my faves from this tour.

CAR RADIO

another one of my favourites. car radio will always hold a very special place in my heart, it's so relatable to me. it makes me so happy that we have a chance to see it being performed in clancy costume (and clancy mask!!!). and when tyler teleports at the end! (also i think he's wearing a totally different jacket in this clip which probably means he has three different clancy jackets, i have no proof tho so i'm just gonna shut up. the video is from LA night one tho. not my show). here's another clip, you can see how he teleported here.

THE JUDGE

ok, so for those who don't know, right before every show the fans in their incredible outfits are being filmed while singing the judge together and every night they show a different video of them singing first verse + chorus and then after that tyler comes out with his ukulele to finish the song. it makes me cry for no reason at all. yes, i cried today too (it just makes me so happy to see all the clikkies singing together and they all look so beautiful always). so what happened today? content warning glitch happened during fan video, you can watch it here, then blurryface tweeted this:

i am losing my goddamn mind over this, people on the livestream were losing their shit when this happened, I STARTED CRYING LIKE A GODDAMN FOOL BECAUSE I'M SO FUCKING EMOTIONAL ABOUT EVERYTHING THIS BAND IS DOING. ugh. i was so right to watch today's livestream. something's gonna happen soon guys. they are warning us.

(i added CUT MY LIP to the playlist but technically it's the judge/cut my lip mashup so there's really not much to say about it)

THE CRAVING + TEAR IN MY HEART

the transition. the goddamn transition!!! it's honestly so fucking cool and probably one of my favourite parts of the tour. i absolutely love all jenna's songs and everyone who says they should not be on the setlist, fuck you forever. in this house we stan all jenna's songs. i usually cry on the craving and tyler is being so silly during tear in my heart - this is my favourite thing in the world. plus, do you really hate the sound of ukulele???

BACKSLIDE

ok, i actually started crying as soon as i realized we're singing backslide now. i love this song so goddamn much, it means the world to me. at one point it was my favourite song from clancy. the chorus breaks my poor little heart every single time and live performance of this song is so emotional... especially at the end when tyler is on his knees (the video is not from tonight's show but it's my favourite one from backslide, please watch it, his vocals here are INSANE). it's like crying for help. i wanna kill myself now. i relate to this song so much. also, backslide is the reason i decided to buy clancy tour tickets, so there's that.

SHY AWAY

oh, thank god this one is on the setlist. you know how much i love scaled and icy and i think out of all the songs from this album shy away is the best one to put on the setlist because the live performance is always so fun!!! don't you shy aWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!! the scream is absolutely fucking everything oh my god. actually, i just love when tyler screams. but don't we all.

HEATHENS + NEXT SEMESTER

ok, now don't hate me, please, but i was never the biggest fan of heathens (i don't hate the song, i like it, just not as much as the others. i probably wouldn't cry if it wasn't on the setlist). however, the transition (again!!!) from heathens to next semester is the best goddamn thing in the entire world and i am losing my mind every single time i come across any clip of this moment. please, watch it, this is everything!!! one question tho: i know tyler was playing bass on the platform for next semester and he didn't do that today, did he just stop doing this recently or is it because of what happened yesterday during the show? (not during this song tho, or at least i know nothing about it, but it seems like LA fans absolutely cannot behave and he was definitely being more careful today, more about it later tho).

ROUTINES IN THE NIGHT

oh boy, this is my vigilante shit for real. remember vigilante shit performance from the eras tour and how everyone was losing their shit when they saw taylor doing the choreography with this motherfucking chair? yes. it's basically that except tyler is fully dressed. which is even worse maybe (y'all know how i feel about his clothes for some reason). one of my favourite songs from the album, but after seeing the live performance for the first time i became absolutely obsessed with the song. i was genuinely scared today because this is basically what happened last night in LA (i swear to god people are acting like fucking animals) and i noticed that tyler was being much more careful this time: he wasn't coming so close to people, and honestly good for him. he didn't even let them touch him during this part. i can't blame him. i feel so bad for what happened. hope he's ok.

ADDICT WITH A PEN + MIGRAINE + FOREST + FALL AWAY

my favourite mashup in the entire fucking world. but before we get into it, please this is so fucking funny and adorable. so basically, before playing the mashup, tyler sat by the piano and he said "currently i'm temperature hot. so i would want to take my jacket off, i promise not to turn on all the dads tonight" and then this happened. poor guy didn't know what to do LMAO. he's such a cutie, please watch the video, he's so adorable i can't. he's also the funniest person on earth. back to the topic, the mashup... i am such a slut for their old songs and this mashup is absolutely fucking insane. the song i love the most out of those is, of course, forest. according to tyler, this song is so old it basically doesn't exist. fuck you, tyler joseph. i can't believe i'm going to hear it live tho, holy shit. i will be fucking SOBBING during this part, i just know that.

MULBERRY STREET

this is such a fun song to play live and one of my favourite moments. you can tell how much fun tyler has each time they play it, also this! this is everything!!! he's always so happy when this happens, he trained us well hahaha. it's so fun omg. can't wait to be a part of it. this has always been one of my favourite songs from scaled and icy so i'm glad they decided to keep it on the setlist.

NAVIGATING

get in, losers. we are entering the lore now. ok, honestly, this part of the tour is absolutely everything to me. torchbearer with his torch? and clancy jacket?? coming to pick him up so they can perform while dema is burning??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAA. oh my GODD. also, navigating is so special to me (i picked this url for a reason) and live performance of this song is fucking fire. watch it. watch the clip. just watch the goddamn clip, will you? we all know this song is on the setlist because of josh, so everybody say thank you josh. also you can tell tyler is very emotional about this song and i just wanna give him a hug. oh my god. i can't wait to hear it live. this will fix me (it will probably make me worse).

NICO AND THE NINERS + HEAVYDIRTYSOUL

the MOTHERFUCKING transition!!! i know i say this a lot but i am such a slut for all the transitions on this tour, oh my god. they are so good. also i absolutely fucking love how we're still in the lore and also, the visuals are absolutely incredible, and also, nico and the niners is one of my favourite songs (the one that got me into their music actually) and also heavydirtysoul live is INSANE and also-

MY BLOOD

ok, i'm sorry, i keep forgetting that this song is on the setlist. it's not one of my favourites (don't fucking hate me, i like it, it's just not my fave). i will be very much singing it at the concert tho cause it's so good live. not much to say about it tho.

OLDIES STATION

boy, here we go. so i started crying at the very beginning of the song and honestly i have no idea how i'm going to handle this live. i am so very normal about this song. it means everything to me. the worst part of it tho was when during the song tyler said "thank you so much for using our music. you've saved us in ways you'll never know". OH MY GOD. i started weeping even more. it's like... their music saved US but we also saved THEM and i need 3-5 business days to recover after that. good lord. listen, i love slowtown and i'm sad that it's not part of the setlist anymore, but i love oldies station a hundred times more and that was a good change me thinks.

FAKE YOU OUT + GUNS FOR HANDS

putting those two together just because i can and i will. vessel is such a great album and it makes me so happy that those two are on the setlist. screaming "our brains are sick but that's okay" with the entire arena is going to fix me, for sure. also, here's the clip of tyler messing up the lyrics (he basically went kjbufbfkkjejkebfkjk after that lmao). can't blame him. the rap part is so fast. i died tho. he's so funny, please.

LAVISH

i can't even begin to explain how happy i am to have this one on the setlist. it's the funniest moment on tour and i love watching them being stupid on stage. also, jOsH iS sHiRtLeSs. the walk, THE WALK LMAO. the best choreography you've ever seen. i just love seeing them so silly and happy and this is everything. i paid a lot of money to see this live. i'm definitely not gonna regret this.

RIDE

so the thing i love about this tour is that every single night while performing this song tyler brings a different kid to sing the chorus with him (it's the equivalent of giving the hat during 22 on the eras tour i would say). tonight we had an adorable girl named callie (if i'm correct). she did so well! also i was giggling so much when tyler said she's cute (he was giggling too hdshfbhekj). i just love watching him with kids, it's so sweet!!! also she had a great beanie with band's logo, i want one too. please watch the clip of them singing together!

PALADIN STRAIT

i was crying. i was crying so much, i love this song and the live performance is so emotional. i put the song bandito on the playlist, because there's this moment in the song where tyler is singing the bridge of paladin strait and josh is singing bandito at the same time and OH MY GOD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS FOR THE LORE??? THIS IS SO CLEVER AND I AM LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND EVERY SINGLE TIME I THINK ABOUT IT. please, watch. this is sick as fuck. you don't understand. do you even understand? OR AM I THE ONLY ONE I KNOW???? i'm sorry i just can't i can't i am defeated i am absolutely insane about this part. also, the ending when they are showing the clip of paladin strait music video combined with other clips which looks like a flashback from clancy's life and his never ending battle with nico? the fuck??? and then we go straight to...

JUMPSUIT

the motherfucking coat. not gonna say anything else. just. the coat. oh dear lord. now i am temperature hot.

MIDWEST INDIGO

now my favourite part of midwest indigo is tyler taking off his coat very slowly. because he fucking knows what he's doing. but also, this song is so special to me. i know he wrote it as a love letter to ohio and i'm not even american but somehow this song always makes me think about my hometown. the live performance is so great. the beginning with the bass! he's adorable!

STRESSED OUT

"i don't want stressed out on the setlist it's so overplayed" kill yourself. i love stressed out because i have good taste. it's fun. it's a great song with great lyrics and you fuckers hate it only because it's popular. just shut up. shut the fuck up. in this house we actually enjoy listening to good songs. i personally want it to be on every setlist. if stressed out has no fans it means i killed myself. i'm dead. i'm gone. stressed out defender forever and always. also clancy tour version is incredible. just watch it and shut the fuck up.

TREES

again, i was so scared about my boys because of what happened yesterday in LA. people are fucking animals. i'm so glad, because tyler actually decided to call them out for this and seems like it was much better today. but still. guys please, behave, cause if you're not gonna start acting responsible they are going to stop performing like this. it's still insane compared to the opening night of clancy tour where people didn't even come closer until tyler told them to. i also just noticed now that tyler's t-shirt had black font today (the previous one had red font) for the first time. i think i was just too tired to notice this before. there's not much i can tell you about trees, because you just simply have to be there to understand. it's a perfect song to end the show (for those who don't know: they always close their shows with this one), it's something i experienced live once before and i can't even compare it to anything. i wasn't even crying. my soul literally just left my body. trust me, there's absolutely nothing like trees live. i can show you thousands of clips and it will never be enough. nobody does it like them. seriously. this is the moment. the moment of all moments. i am in fact crying now...

TO SUM IT UP:

great show. 10/10. would recommend. i'm going to see them live in 223 days. this is the thing that makes me want to stay alive. yes. i need to stay alive for this. whoever sent me this ask, thank you. it means the world to me. i need to talk about them because it's the only joy in my life now. they are the reason i want to push on through. also, if you made it this far, thank you. i love you. and i'm sorry.

[birdofdawning]

Helena leans over to change the radio station. "Honestly, I would have hoped that the glib pleastries of Masters of Ceremonies would have improved since my time, but I am afraid this is not the case. I'm sure I heard half those inane blatherings at the Pavillion in the '90s and they were old hat then."

Myka checks her wing mirror. "I think you're being too hard on Rockin' Eddie and Rockin' KDBW, " she says. "He's trying his best to keep Muskogee 'boogeying' thru breakfast'. He's been very clear about this. And anyway, it's not as easy as it seems, being a radio announcer. Especially when you're on air alone, without someone else in the studio to talk to."

"Why, it seems perfectly simple to me," sniffs Helena, "You just open your mouth and say the first silly thing that comes to mind."

"No, there’s actually a lot of preparation and practice involved."

Helena gives Myka a shrewd glance. "You seem to know a lot about the subject. Is this another one of your abandoned careers?"

"I don't have 'abandoned careers'," says Myka, frowning, "Stop saying that. But yeah, I hosted a late night show on college radio for a couple of years."

At this Helena sits up straight. "No! Really? Well!" She eyes her companion anew. "You are a dark horse Miss Bering. And so you too, I imagine, would utter those strange animal cries and then exalt your listeners to 'get down to the rhythm while they get up to the java'?"

"No, of course not," says Myka, "It was a late night show. People were going to bed."

Helena, who has been bored and irritable since they left the airport four hours ago — not that she would have admitted this, even to herself — finds that she is now quite cheered up. "And did you also play 'the greatest hits of the '70s, '80s, and beyond'?" She gasps. "Did you play 'Killing in the Name Of'?"

Myka shakes her head. "What is it with you and that song? And no, as I said it was a late night show, so it was relaxing music. And my show was mostly classical and old jazz. Some baroque and early stuff. Some choral." She changes lanes to let another car pass. "College radio is more, uh, eclectic than stations like KDBW Muskogee. People play all kinds of stuff."

"And did you have a sobriquet? Like Rockin' Eddie?"

Myka pauses. "Uh, yeah."

Helena waits.

Myka clears her throat. "I was, um... Velvet."

"Velvet."

"Yeah. The show was 'Vespers with Velvet'"

Helena considers this. "Surely it should have been 'Compline with Velvet'? If it was a late night show?"

"I know!" Myka grips the stearing wheel tighter. "I told them that! But they said they liked the alliteration. And so I had to introduce 'Vespers with Velvet' every Sunday night knowing it was wrong!" She shakes her head at the old frustration.

"But why 'Velvet' to begin with?" asks Helena. "Please don't misunderstand me, I think you have a lovely speaking voice. But I wouldn’t call it velvety."

"Oh, I didn’t speak like this," says Myka. And then her voice drops half an octave. "I spoke like this."

Every hair on the back of Helena's neck stands up. A wave of anticipation passes down from her scalp, running through her body to settle heavily in her centre.

She leans back in her chair and ever-so casually crosses her legs.

"Well now," she says, "I think I'm going to need to hear more from Miss Velvet."

[pinksirensong]

MORPHEUS X READER (ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP) WHERE THEY GO WATCH THE ERAS TOUR FILM PLEASE

I JUST CAME BACK FROM WATCHING IT!! While writing I kept imagining Morpheus at the movie theater waiting on the line for the movie with Y/N and she's SO 1989's era and he's like... reputation with a mix of folklore??? ANYWAAAAAAY, hope you liked it 🩵 thank u so much for the ask 🩵

CRUEL SUMMER

People around them always asked themselves how they could work, Y/N and Morpheus couldn't be more different if they tried to and yet they were a match made in heaven. He was very temperamental and with a lot of trust issues while she was a sunshine that always saw good anywhere she went. So people wondered…

They didn't know them though, there were a lot of concessions between them…especially from Dream's side. What Y/N wanted she would get, no matter what sacrifice he had to do, even if he thought it was crazy…like suddenly asking to break up for a few hours. Morpheus was ready to cry and ask what did he do to make her ask for this (because honestly this time he was so sure everything was fine) but then she explained that RED Taylor's Version would come out and she wanted to really experience it.

He didn't understand it, but fearing she would actually break up with him it felt like it was better letting her have that moment. Not even twenty-four hours later he found her crying on the floor while All Too Well (10 minutes version) Taylor's Version played very loudly. Morpheus loved every form of art but not even him could understand how someone could feel so much from just listing a song.

That day was supposed to be the strangest day…until now.

— I do not understand.

— We are going to The Eras Tour. I mean, not really, it's the film and I bought us tickets, surprise! - of course Y/N knew her boyfriend wasn't a swiftie like her, but this was a very important moment in her life and she really wanted to share it with him. — I didn't had the money to go see the actual show but since I took so many extra hours at work I was able to get a free day today to go see it with you! You're not mad at me, right, kitten?

— I would never be angry with you, my love. - especially when she looked at him like that. — I see no point in it. I am the Lord of the Dreaming, surely I could make your dream of watching this come true.

— But it wouldn't be the real thing. I really want to see the whole experience, even if it was just watching a movie, and…and I want to sing her songs with other fans…and most of all: I really want to share this moment with you. Please, Morpheus, say yes…

And that's how Dream of the Endless ended up in the middle of a movie theater full of unknown people beside his girlfriend. Y/N was dressed with the cheerleader outfit from Shake it off and while he didn't understand the reason behind it all he did was make sure no one would make her feel uncomfortable. There was no denying he was a bit jealous and the way people looked at her didn't help it but Dream knew he couldn't go back to his old ways.

"Alright, Los Angeles, we have arrived at the very first bridge of the evening. Now, I have a question. Does anyone here know the lyrics to this bridge? Prove it!"

— I'M DRUNK IN THE BACK OF THE CAR AND I CRIED LIKE A BABY COMING HOME FROM A BAR OHHH SAID I'M FINE BUT IT WASN'T TRUE I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU AND I SNUCK IN THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE EVERY NIGHT THAT SUMMER JUST TO SEAL MY FATE OHHH AND I SCREAM FOR WHATEVER IS WORTH I LOVE YOU AIN'T THAT THE WORST THING YOU EVER HEARD? - and there he was completely enchanted by Y/N's. She was singing the loudest she could and he doubted tomorrow she would have the voice to say anything, but today…in this moment she was completely happy. And Y/N was sharing it with him. At the moment it was just her there with him, it was like every other person in the movie theater was just gone.

In that moment he knew that he was truthfully completely and irrevocably in love with Y/N.

[foxes-that-run]

do you think Hits Different is haylor coded?

Hi, to me it is, though I think it is ambiguous as I think Taylor's feelings might have been. Aaron indicated it was an earlier song on Midnights. It was possibly written not very long after Renegade.

Timeline

Aaron mentioned it as one of the songs they wrote together, he mentioned it when saying they wrote High Infidelity in L.A. after Taylor saw Harry at the 2021 Grammy's. He mentioned The Great War also. (31 mins in Broken Record podcast)

I guess this somewhat depends on one's view of the Joever timeline and the Haylor aspects of Folklore. At that time Harry wrote As it was and LOML which are about moving on and there was a lot of reporting around OW.

Video

In this pretty unsettling short she wore an Opal, Taylor's worn Opals since 2014 including the Cardigan video and says 'Opal eyes' in Ivy.

Lyrics

I washed my hands of us at the club You made a mess of me I pictured you with other girls in love Then threw up on the street Like waiting for a bus that never shows You just start walkin' on They say that if it's right, you know Each bar plays our song Nothing has ever felt so wrong

Taylor has been a mess in:

All You Had To Do Was Stay: I’ve been picking up the pieces of the mess you made

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: I’m a mess but I’m the mess that you wanted

Illicit Affairs: Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Also the only other bus lyric is The 1: I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t, though.

Bars feature a lot on Reputation, so many associate them with Joe, (who she started dating after a lot of the album was recorded.) however to me most of those songs are Haylor.

Oh my, love is a lie Shit my friends say to get me by It hits different It hits different this time Catastrophic blues Movin' on was always easy for me to do It hits different It hits different 'cause it's you ('Cause it's you)

The Catastrophic blues, to me are most similar to Peace: "If your cascade ocean wave blues come." but I hear the lyric as Taylor is depressed.

'Movin' on was always easy for me to do' indicates Harry to me because, he is someone she hasn't been able to move on from because of the cyclical nature of it:

End Game "We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't" and "And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul"

DBATC: "Chandelier's still flickering here / 'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not"

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw Freedom felt like summer then on the coast Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings And I never don't cry (no, I never don't cry) at the bar Yeah, my sadness is contagious (my sadness is contagious) I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car I stopped receiving invitations

Taylor has also described Harry is irreplaceable, not a switchable Ken:

Question..?:"Cause I don't remember who I was / Before you painted all my nights / A color I've searched for since" and "Does it feel like everything's just like / Second best after that meteor strike

Ready for it: "And he can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor / Every lover known in comparison is a failure"

Gold Rush: "And the coastal town / We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it"

Finally the drunk, slurred name lyrics, (hard to slur Joe), and

Cruel Summer: I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Death By A Thousand Cuts: I get drunk but it’s not enough ‘cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat Cursed the space that I needed I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' You were the one that I loved Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief In the good in the world, you once believed in me And I felt you and I held you for a while Bet I could still melt your world Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

Joe's worn a few baseball caps, though Taylor has also referenced Harry's hats before. In early interviews Niall said he wore them to hide his hair in public, so he wears them a lot. Including this green beanie in the 22 MV.

Bleeding is a Haylor Theme

Trace the evidence / Wrinkle in time reminds me of Right where you left me, "They expected me to find somewhere / Some perspective, but I sat and stared"

Hair, Stare and Sense of belief describe Harry well:

Hair (Style: long hair, Shake it off: hella good hair, Gold Rush: Hair falling into place)

Stare (Style: daydream look in your eye, Delicate: look into your eyes, Exile: eyes add insult to injury, Gold Rush: Twinkling eyes)

Harry has a belief in the good in the world, Joe may too, we don't really know him.

Finally the Argumentative, antithetical dream girl - reminds me of Gold Rush "At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit". Harry describes Taylor in Sweet Creature "It's hard when we argue We're both stubborn, I know" Kiwi "Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect" and Woman "I told you, but I know you never listen."

I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway Is that your key in the door? Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away? To take me away

Finally, hallways and doors both feature a lot in Haylor songs, here the muse has a key. I guess this also depends on a perspective of the pandemic time, I don't find it a stretch to think H had a key to Taylors home. As far as I wonder if she even has a literal key anymore...

Have they come to take me away reminds me of:

Wonderland: And in the end in Wonderland, we both went mad

Say Don’t Go: The waiting is a sadness fading into madness

Don’t Blame Me: "For you I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind" and "Don’t blame me, love made me crazy"

I Wish You Would: This mad, mad love makes you come running

Blank Space: Magic, madness, heaven, sin