#that when referring to someone or yourself its usually at the end then the start

[kenzieluvsnanami]

kenzieluvssuguru :: ☆*:.｡.o the roommate (18+) o.｡.:*☆

You were sure you hated him. From the crown of his silky, jet black hair to the bottom of his bunny-slipper clad feet. Everything he did pissed you off. Whether it’s finishing your very expensive shampoo or sneaking bites of your carefully hidden sweet treats, one thing was for certain: Geto Suguru knew how to get and STAY on your last nerve. (f!reader x suguru)

cw *:･ﾟ✧ roommate/no curses/college au, reader is overworked and underpaid 😭, auditory voyeurism? (by reader).. readers basically a cuck (unknown to suguru, sooo dubcon kinda), cheeky suguru/slight humour (cant help myself), dirty talk, OF references, description of the devils tango (but not w reader) and mastúrbation *:･ﾟ✧♡ 3.2k words // part 1 , part 2

He had become your roommate at the beginning of second year. Having an egregiously rich grandmother who liked her grandkids to earn their keep had its perks at times, one of those being the inheritance of a beautifully furnished townhouse that was only a half hour commute from your university.

However, the downside was the substantial cost of maintaining the house. Bills pilled up fast and whilst your grandmother was lounging in Turks and Caicos, you were working multiple jobs: the campus coffee shop on off-days, a drum and bass club on the weekend and tutoring whenever time allowed.

It was

Wearing.

You.

Down.

By the end of the second semester you had enough. Physically and emotionally drained, you sat down and pondered over all the possible avenues of making money - ASAP since energy companies were not necessarily known for their patience and generosity. Whilst starting an OF was firmly out of the equation, it did give you an idea. Instead of selling yourself, you could sell your home! Ok, not the whole house - but there was a spare room adjoined to yours, fully furnished with its own small terrace. A charming, spacious place where many students living on campus dorms would love to be. However, who did you know that was willing to move out this late in second year? Most had already settled into their new homes and were already accustomed to the people they lived with. You tried asking around but unfortunately it was all rejection.

Dejected, you slinked into your critical analysis class that evening, eye bags so heavy they were almost pulling your eyes shut. The tiredness must have put you you some sort of delirious state because when you sat in your usual seat as you pondered over your situation... aloud?!

"you want someone move in with you?" echoed the mild-mannered man beside you.

Confused and slightly taken aback, he asked you to repeat yourself, to make sure he heard you clearly. Rather frustrated, you grumbled out the question not even meaning to ask him about your situation and to your surprise - he actually said yes. Eyes widening and back moderately straighter, you exchanged contact information and asked him to meet tomorrow so you can discuss more.

You had left the lecture shaken out of your fatigued stupor and felt a tinge of regret already. You barely know this man. All you knew was that his name was Geto Suguru, he’s in your class and will be your new roommate in the next couple of weeks. From what you had gathered from your brief interactions, he seemed like a normal person… at least you hoped so.

You knew he was well mannered. Remembering from the time you tripped over his foot, limbs flailing awkwardly - and how he’d lunged out, firmly grasping you by the waist to stop you from falling flat onto your face. As soon as you had steadied, he apologised profusely with slightly flushed cheeks and averted eyes.

He seemed well kept, his full, shoulder-length hair was never greasy or out of place. Either in a half-up bun or flowing freely, it was definitely a cause for envy. He dressed neatly, loose jeans or joggers with a plain tee or sweatshirt seemed to be his staples. Fingernails were slender - elegant, your sideways glances during lectures providing a view of his graceful, willowy hands. Long and dainty fingers gently tapping on the laptop in front of him.

All known factors considered, when it comes to roommates you seemed to have won the lottery. A quiet and respectful man seemed like a few in a dozen in this generation. How lucky were you!

The first few weeks were like a sort of honeymoon period. Sharing a space with someone you didn’t know was as awkward as you would think it would be. Small smiles when you ran into each other in the hallway and if you were feeling bold, some small talk over breakfast before your shared class.

The ice was breaking between the two of you as you slowly adapted around each others routines. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. You were getting more sleep due to the fact that you didn’t have to work as hard to pay your bills (thanks to your dual income) and actually felt like a human being for once.

Feeling human meant that a lot of additional needs had been forgone and most importantly your dormant libido had jumped back alive. That itself was nothing to write home about but it was more so how you came to this realisation which was.

It was 3 months prior, when you had left your room for a late night snack. Wrapped in your hello kitty throw, you softly pattered down the hall into the kitchen. Treats successfully acquired, you walked back into the hall and was greeted with a mass of steam flowing out from the bathroom, a tall figure emerging.

It was your room mate (duh) but in a way you had never had seen him before. His raven hair was deliciously tousled - the messiest you had ever seen it and...

it. was. beautiful.

The towel wrapped around his slight waist exposed his athletic build, deceptively slim but a slight flex allowed you to see the unbridled power hidden within. His ab definition was exemplified by the drops of water falling from the light smattering of hair trailing down to his deep cut V line.

He was absolutely stunning.

You were frozen for more than a few seconds, marvelling at the discovery of this new side to your roommate. He was… heavenly. You didn’t even realise Suguru had fully left the bathroom until you felt a warm gust of air as he swished past you, a drop of water splashing onto your face as he teasingly poked you. You sped back into the safety of your room and slammed the door. He had you salivating like a damn dog by just a flash of his upper body?? Yes, he may have looked good (a bit more than good actually) but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before.

Since that night, the dynamics of your relationship had imperceptibly changed. You couldn’t really describe how in a concise manner but Suguru had definitely changed. He was much more bold - seemingly doing everything in his power to make you flustered.

It first started with him wearing less and less clothes in the common areas of the house. You weren't completely unreasonable, leaving his room in just his red plaid PJ bottoms and those god forsaken bright pink bunny slippers could be excused. After all, this was his new home and you did want him to be comfortable. You just had to be mindful of not staring too long into his plump, juicy pectorals that were practically two small pillows that you could just face plant into. Not to mention the absolute dumptruck he was carrying from behind. During your dinners together (you always ended up cooking way more for yourself than needed), you really had to fight to keep your eyes fixed onto his face as he spoke and even then you’d find yourself being drawn further and further into his deep, purple eyes. Even his voice, calm, even and low was akin to a sirens call, causing you to be further and further enraptured with him.

Why couldn’t you just be normal about your roommate. You know plenty of people who houseshare with the opposite sex and it doesn’t seem to be as hard for them as it is for you. Maybe you just need a quick fuck? Something to get it out of your system so you can stop feeling like so…. lustful during the most regular exchanges.

It was hard to stop thinking thoughts like that when you would come home from a study group or be leaving early for a shift at the cafe to find Suguru slumped over the couch casually watching a telenovela or a 2000s sitcom. This normally would not be any kind of issue if for the fact he wasn’t practically naked par a grey set of loose Calvin Klein boxers.

The first time this happened you were almost late for work, your body physically refusing to move at the sight of his thick thighs, corded muscles tensing as he swung his legs down from resting on the cushion next to him and patted the space beside him - gesturing for you to sit. The soft smile on his face, eyes shut, eyebrows relaxed and seemingly in a state of inexplicable bliss for someone with 12 assignments due that week was all a bit too much for you to handle as you snapped out of your daze and rushed out of the door.

Suguru’s next ‘misstep’ was his use of almost all of your things and general disregard for personal space. He seemed to find joy in watching you put two and two together and realise that the reason why the whole house smells like Shea vanilla is because he “accidentally” used your body wash whilst bathing and so “just had to” grab the matching lotion, body oil and spray from your room - so he didn’t “smell confused”.

To think that this was the same man who was so quiet when he first moved in honestly is beyond human comprehension, his eyes crinkling shut as he laughed with genuine glee about how in the process of looking for the spray he tripped over your charging hitachi wand.

“Is my roommate feeling a bit pent up?” he drawled as he fake pouted, the tips of your ears burning at the fact that the object of your current infatuation knew about what you did in your… free time. “I was wondering what all that buzzing was last night.”

Suguru was comfortable at your shared house. Too comfortable. Which leads us to what happened today, what you considered to be the most egregious misstep by your roommate and would have made you so pissed if it hadn’t made you so wet.

It’s a Friday - nothing too crazy about that fact, it was just the week coming to an end. As your professor informs you of the upcoming assignments for the following week, Suguru leans down to tell you that he might be home a bit later than usual as he wanted to go to a friends houseparty. This isn’t anything too out of the ordinary, you knew that he was quite well known amongst the second years and as a result he was always flitting in and out the house midweek. You didn't really understand why he was specifically informing you of his whereabouts this time but you thanked him and made your way straight to coffee shop to start your shift.

Today was by far the hardest shift you’ve ever had, the sheer volume of people you had to serve and the few staff that were booked in to work. You were absolutely exhausted. You definitely were up for an orgasm or two to destress and your.. personal massager would be fully charged by the time you got home.

Clocked out at 7 and you were currently speed walking back to the house. A warm bath, filling meal and rewatching one of the telenovela’s Suguru had introduced to you sounded like an excellent plan. Just the action of running the bath, pouring the salts and soap and stripping off your stiff uniform silenced all the noise in your mind - you could truly feel the tension rolling off your body as you eased into the bathtub.

After an hour long soak, you made a wholesome pasta dish and binge watched TV until you started to feel your eyelids drooping shut as the day begun to catch up with you. You dragged yourself to your room, the silk sheets and quilted comforter lulling your weary body to a sweet, sweet slumber.

That was until… 1.27am according to your bedside clock. The loud bang of the front door shook you awake but it’s what you heard next that kept you up.

A bang on the hallway wall and what sounded like... kissing? Sloppy and heated, you could hear the mewls and whines of a woman coupled by occasional groans from what had to be… your roommate?

Footsteps got louder and louder until you could hear them through the shared wall between your rooms. The bed creaked as it hit the bedroom wall and you could hear the low murmur of your roommate’s voice. Almost instinctually, you carefully raised yourself up from the bed and pressed your ear to the wall to hear better.

“You’re going to take allllll of it, okay?” Suguru said lowly, the woman giggling as he retorted “Don’t get shy with me now. We both know you were begging for it.”

You knew what you were doing was fucked up. How could you keep eavesdropping on your roommate fucking another girl but somehow you were unable to tell your body, warmth pooling in your core.

The soft thud of clothes hitting the ground was accompanied by the rejoining of the pair, the loud kissing and sounds of scattered bedsheets made you ponder. This was the first time you had ever heard Suguru do anything remotely sexual. He made jokes (mainly to your demerit) about the apparent lack of sex and I mean, you appreciated that he respected the space that the two of you shared by not always having people over or at least doing it when you weren’t home but part of you just innately knew that he wasn’t seeing anyone - serious or casual. That’s why this is so unexpected.. but not unwanted.

See, it had interrupted your much needed sleep but you couldn’t deny how horny this was making you. The fact that you could hear what it would be like to fuck your roommate and the added taboo of him not knowing you could hear - you were almost soaked in your own essence, a hand snaking down to your pyjama bottoms so that you could alleviate some of your pent-up tension.

“Open your mouth” Suguru demanded. A slight pause in movements as you heard what must have been a fat, wad of his saliva splash into the woman’s mouth. “Good girl” he cooed, the woman moaning back in pure, unadulterated need.

You stifled your own whine, the delicious pressure of your fingertips on your swollen nub combined with your roommates filthy, sinful words had you so close. The woman gasped at what you can only imagine being Suguru finally pulling down those grey boxers. Another splash and a steady, slick rhythm began - probably Suguru stroking himself, long slender fingers wrapping tight around his base dragging his hand right up to the tip, thumb swirling to collect any pre-cum to lubricate his shaft even more.

“Please..” the woman pleaded. “Please what?” Suguru chided “If you are going to beg at least beg properly”. “Please..please put it in” she mumbled. “You’re still not asking properly but” A loud squelch and the woman’s even louder moan interrupted Suguru’s almost lazy drawl. He seemed so relaxed, responding back as if he himself didn’t want this as bad as she did. “I’m in a good mood so I’ll do as you wish” he punctuated his sentence with a sharp thrust, the already worn bed frame jolting into the wall as he fully buried himself into this woman.

Her mewls seemed to get even higher and higher in pitch as the two established a steady rhythm. Hand firmly placed along your slit, you toyed with oozing entrance and sensitive clit - middle and ring finger prodding into your hole, scissoring and feeling your inner walls. You gathered some more of your essence and spread it onto your thumb, applying more and more pressure as you swirled your bud. It was like you were in a freaked out flow state, your mind purely focused on achieving that high. You tuned out the shrieks of the other woman and honed in on your roommates low grunts, imaging how tense his abs would be from the sheer effort he would be putting, arms caged around you in missionary as he just plowed straight into you until you both came.

The bed creaks became more and more frequent, your hand moving faster and faster as you heard the woman cry out one last time and start sobbing. It seemed your roommate had slowed down slightly, close himself as the thrusts became more slow and tempered not hitting the wall as loudly. You were so so close, focusing on deep breathing to slow it down so that you could come undone at the same time as him.

As he got close himself, you could hear some sort of low rumble… was he.. whining? You could also hear his murmured praises to his partner “You did so good… thank you so much… your so pretty…ngh.. all…urghh….fucked out…mffh.. like this”. He seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth, so close to the edge. Even though you knew he wasn’t talking to you, all the words just melted into your brain adding to your dazed, enraptured state. You couldn’t hold out any longer, fingers moving into overdrive as you reached your peak and fell head first into the mind-numbing pleasure of release as you heard Suguru’s muffled cry as he came.

As the static from your ears started to clear and you were finally able to come back to earth from that earth-shattering orgasm, you could hear a slightly more heated conversation happening in the adjoined room.

“What the fuck was that” the woman whisper shouted while pulling on her clothes. “What the fuck do I know??” puffed your roommate as he seemed to pace around the room. “You just groaned another girls name as you came Suguru. That’s fucked up.. Seriously?” You could practically hear the sheepish look on his face as the door banged for a second that night.

How can he moan another girls name whilst he’s balls deep inside of her? I mean thinking back you may have heard him say your name but that was just because you were in a freaked out flow state, right?… right?

And that’s why at 3.09am you had come to the solid conclusion that you hated Geto Suguru. He was obnoxious, used your stuff AND had the cheek to mock you for what’s in your room but most importantly he fucked a girl and said your name whilst he came. Not only did he hurt this poor girl but he left you even more confused. Where do you even go from here? Did he know you heard the whole thing? Even if he did what does this change? Your hot roommate maybe does want to pipe you? This should be a good thing but for some reason you know it’s going to be more complicated than that...

part 2

a/n *:･ﾟ✧♡ :: credits to @/cafekitsune for the dividers! part 2 shld be done by the 10th (no promises 😭) but i lowk do want to drag it out to a three parter.

likes and reblogs make me squirt!

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!��� Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[divinesolas]

Ignored

Summary: Based on two requests; You had been best friends with Jacaerys since you were kids. But when he gets a girlfriend and joins the football team in college your whole life gets turned upside down and he's suddenly ditched you. A year after you are confronted by him and emotions spill to the surface.

w.c: 2.7k

c.w: Porn with plot, sub!jace, hand job, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), car sex, im not good at angry sex or mean stuff guys so sorry,

masterlist

One year. one fucking year since you’ve last spoken to him. You never imagined the two of you would end up like this.

He gets on the college football team and gets some hot girlfriend and suddenly he’s too good for you. You doubt he’s even noticed. It was slow to start, he started being busy during your weekly hang outs, then it would slip his mind to text you back, then he just suddenly stopped texting you. You had been replaced, you would always spend the holidays with his family but this past year you had seen Lucerys post on his insta holiday pictures and she was there instead. Everyone else in his family had reached out to you at some point. usually something along the lines of a happy holidays and that they hoped to see you soon, that they missed you. They even wished you happy birthday. He didn’t.

You had gotten to the point you stopped answering his family's texts, it made you feel sick when Lucerys asked if you would come to his birthday party and you didn’t have the heart to reply to him. You stopped checking their socials, even going as far as to mute them but you didn’t have the heart to unfollow them. then it would get too real, that the people you’ve considered family since you were basically a baby were no longer around.

You wish you didn’t miss him. You wish when started at your aunts gravestone he was not the face that appeared in your mind when you wished you had someone to comfort you. She had died six months ago, you hadn’t even bothered to text him about it. He met her a couple times, but its not like he would care now.

You do not cry for her anymore. Having come far enough in your grief, but you feel yourself come to a halt when you are walking through the graveyard and are stopped by a familiar family.

“Y/n?” You feel a knot grow in your throat. Why were they here? you could see lucerys was holding some flowers. “Hello.” What else are you supposed to say? You are frozen in place as lucerys walks over and throws his arms around you. “I missed you.” You try not to let your tears spill down your face as Lucerys pulls back and looks at you alarmed, “Are you okay?”

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, unable to even describe what you’re feeling. “You’re so tall.” Your voice cracks as you speak and he slaps you on the shoulder. “’Course i am, had to get taller than mr prince charming over there.”

You don’t want to look at him. You wish he was not even there. But you cannot help yourself the way your eyes drift to where Lucerys is referring to and you wish you hadn’t. He is as beautiful as he was the last day you saw him, he looks like he just came out of a romcom, a long trench coat covering him and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. You have no clue what he’s thinking, his face giving nothing away, cant take your eyes off him. The way his eyes have a gloss over them as he takes a couple steps towards you.

You swiftly turn away from his and notice rhaenyra standing at your side and she reaches out a grips your forearm. “It is so wonderful to see you dear.” You nod and smile at her, “It is always a pleasure Ms. Targaryen.” she hits your arm, “You stay away for a couple months and suddenly I’m Ms. Targaryen, call me rhaenyra dear you know better.” You want to correct her, tell her its been over a year. yet you don't, only nodding and apologizing to her.

“What are you doing here?” Its the first words he’s said to you in god knows how long. You swear your knees almost crumple at the sound of his voice. You want to punch him, spit in his face, you wish you hated him. “My aunt died.” You spit at the ground, you voice coming out angrier than you indented it to.

The people around you immediately flood around to give their condolences. You thank them, Lucerys especially kept you in a deep hug and mentioned how they came today to see rhaenyra's father but they'll make sure to stop by your aunt’s grave.

He says nothing. nothing at all. You hate him. You hate him so much. But you cant say no when they ask if you’ll join them to see viserys and your aunt. you cant even say no when they offer you to join them for dinner.

you two say nothing to each other, not until you say you’ll drive in your car on the way there and turn to walk towards it, still having the map to their house memorized until you are stopped, a hand gripping on your forearm.

“Can i ride with you?” You don't turn around to look at him. Continuing to stare straight ahead, your heart and head churning. You want to tell him no, that you don't wish to ever even see him again. “Please.”

“Fine.”

But you're a pussy. the biggest punk in the whole world as you watch him slide into the passenger seat as you close the drivers door. A silence fills the space between you two, you don't want to speak, a part of you hopes it will stay that way.

“What happened with us?” You harshly break at the red light and whip your head towards him. Rage boiling at your skin as you hiss at him, “What happened? What do you mean what happened? You're the one who ditched me!”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” “Oh so you’re just gonna act like you didn't fucking stop talking to me after you a girlfriend? What is her name? i don't even fucking know because you never introduced us.” A loud honk behind you forced you to turn your head away from him and back on the road, you swear your knuckles turned white from the pressure you were squeezing it.

“i-” “No. Because you know what Jace. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid face and your stupid girlfriend and your stupid friends because you fucking left me. You have no reason to sit around and ask me what the fuck happened between us because it was all because of you. i put in the effort to reach out i even sent you a fucking gift for your birthday because you couldn't spare the time to hang with me and you don't even text me a happy fucking birthday?!? Fuck you man.”

Your hands slam down on the wheel in frustration as you clench your jaw, the fucking nerve of this guy. You don’t even spare him another glance and he doesn't dare to say anything else for awhile. the drive is long, they were buried far out from your homes so the drive was over an hour.

it takes twenty minutes before he says anything. “I’m sorry.” It comes out strained, if you looked at him he would probably be crying but you do not dare look at him. “I wish i could explain to you why i did it, why i acted like that. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry i just think i liked the attention, i liked having people fawn over me. And her, fuck i don't know, i liked her sure, but she fucking cheated on me with one of the guys on the team, told me she only got with me to get closer to him. Its not an excuse, i should have never put what we had down the drain for someone that never really mattered because you, you matter to me more than anyone else. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, ill say it forever because i don't deserve your forgiveness.”

You pull over into a road side parking lot because you couldn't see the road anymore. Your eyes filled with tears as your shoulders shook with silent sobs, “I am sorry i made you feel this way, that you couldn't even come to me when she died, i liked it, i remember she gave me the toy car display i still have in my room fuck i can't even imagine how you must feel. I miss you. I miss you so much.”

You put your head against the wheel and allow yourself to sob. This is all you’ve wanted to hear for so long that now you have no clue how to feel. You want to tell him to fuck off. That he has no reason to be begging for your forgiveness now.

“Jacaerys,” You swear you hear it wrong, that you must be confused. He whimpers. “No please,” “Its dragged out in a way that has your stomach churning and you shift in your seat. “Don’t call me Jacaerys, Jace please.”

You must be strong. You cannot give into to his sad puppy eyes and cries. Yet you look over to him and feel your resolve crumble. He has tears streaming down his face. He’s looking at you. Has he been looking at you this whole time? “You left me Jace.” He lets out a trembled breath as he dares with shaky hands to grab yours. “I'm sorry. I will beg you to forgive me till the end of time because i will never deserve it. I need you.”

Your heart pounds against your chest as the two of you stare at one another. You feel your hands shake in his grip as the two of you unknowingly move closer to each other.

“I realized after i found out what she had done i was more upset about the fact you were not there more than anything. She had begged me to take her back but the only thing i could think about was you. I was so stupid and so blind i will never forgive myself. You are everything to me.”

“Jace,” He cups your cheeks and lets out a trembled breath, “I was a fool to let you go. I will never make that mistake again,” You cannot believe what is happening, he does not truly mean what you think he’s saying does he? “I had months to think it over. I am so madly in love with you. If you do not feel the same i will act like this never happened and we can just go back to being friends or even if you cannot stomach being around me we can just never talk but-”

He lets out a surprised moan as you shove your lips against his and eagerly pressed his lips against yours. He a lot more vocal than you had expected him to be, eagerly humming against your lips as his hands have moved to your neck.

He lets out a shocked gasp when you push him back into his seat and looks at you with wide eyes as you climb over his lap, pulling the level to have him lay over his back and simply stare at him as you hover above him. He whimpers as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards your face, “This is for me. Not you. Right?” He eagerly nods, more than willing to take anything you’ll give him.

He whines as you unbutton his black dress pants and waste no time shoving your hand past his boxers and gripping onto his dick. His head is thrown backwards as you rub your thumb against his tip, ignoring his mumbles until enough precum has dripped down onto your hand before you begin vigorously pumping him up and down.

You do not stop even as he’s asking you to slow down. Well you do, but it is always right before he’s about to come. You do this again. and again. and again. He feels like he’s about to burst, the stimulation is too much for him to bare.

“Please.” You tilt your head at him as he grips the front of your button down shirt. “What do you want?” Your words are spoken like he a stranger approaching you on the street, he whimpers and shoves his head into your chest, his tears threatening to spill out. “Please,”

“awe are you so fucked out you have no clue what you’re talking about huh?” He’s babbling nonsense as you feel his tears pool into your shirt. You fully remove your hands off him for the fourth time and he thinks he might crack. “Please no I’m sorry I’m sorry please please just let me,,” His words trail off as he watches you fully release him from his pants and boxers, his breath shaky as he watches you pool up your shirt and move to hover above him.

“Please please.” “Shut the fuck up.” He whimpers as his tip presses against your folds but you don’t him in enter yet, simply allowing his tip to be dragged up and down your slit. He throws his head back as the tears continue to flow down his face, he can’t take this, his hips rise up to try and thrust into you but you hold him down and spit at him. “You don’t know how to behave slut.”

He lets out a surprised gurgle of sounds when you suddenly slam all the way down onto him and lightly slap him across the face. “Are you happy now slut? You happy your little loser friend is fucking you stupid?”

He can barely speak as you begin to bounce up and down on him. He’s dreamed of this for much longer than he’d like to admit but this is much better than anything he could have imagined. The way your lightly let out sounds of delight are like music to his ears. He wishes he could say something but over the heat that flows over his body and the way he feels your hands slip under his shirt and begin to rub up and down his chest he can’t find the words.

He keeps his hands at his side, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you not wishing to upset you more than he already has. You notice the way his hands twitch and slightly raise as if he wants to reach out to you. You slow down for a moment to grab his hands and place them on your chest, a wordless exchange between the two of you as he stares at you in wonder. So much love fills his gaze you almost flush with embarrassment. You begin to pick up your pace once again as he fondles you over your clothes.

The pit grows larger in his stomach much faster than he would like but due to the overstimulation and the overflowing of emotions he’s on the edge. “I’m so close.”

“Hold it.” He whines and watches as one of your hands slip under your skirt, “You think you should be allowed to cum before me?” He shakes his head, of course not, he doesn’t deserve too.

He swears he almost cums from your blissed out face alone, but he is surprised he manages to contain himself until he feels you throb and your essence drips around him. You slowly lift off him and pump him until his cum drips down your hands.

The car windows are foggy, you have no clue how long you’ve been out here but the sun as begun to set as you allow yourself to fall against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically as his arms come to wrap around you.

“I don’t forgive you,” He feels his heart drop as he gulps, bracing himself for you to lift off him and drop him off at his house, never to speak to him again. “But i think i can one day, you just have to take me out on a couple dates first.”

He grins.

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

[happy74827]

if you take requests! i love your writing! maybe a fic about harvey and it’s a little angsty bc of his pride or a miscommunication but then it becomes really fluffy

Regrets and Resolutions

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis Sometimes it takes a fight to know what you want, and sometimes what you want is what you need.

WC: 2459

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

Angst to fluff is my specialty, so when I saw this request, I got all giddy. However, I do want to apologize for how long it took because it's been like two months and I feel really bad about it 😅🙏

Also miscommunication? Haha more like no communication

『••✎••』

Harvey Specter rarely messes up. For him, it’s always a perfect mix of confidence, arrogance, and planning. It was the one thing you always loved about him. Sure, he could be an ass at times, but the man knew how to work the courtroom, and as he always says, he plays the man, not the role.

You can still remember how it all started. It was a slow summer night, and you both happened to be at the bar that evening. For different reasons, of course.

For him, it was a celebration of a win for his client. Usually, he’d celebrate alone in the office with a bottle of wine, but the world worked in mysterious ways.

For you, it wasn’t a celebration or a happy event for work at all. You were there for a break. It had been an extremely stressful day, and all you wanted to do was drink and think about something other than work.

That was until a drunk man ruined your night.

He had approached you with some words that made your skin crawl and a touch that made you nauseous. You quickly got up to leave, but before you could, he held you down. You tried to push away, but he had a firm grip on your arm, and you couldn't get away from him.

That’s when you felt a set of strong arms pull him off you and into a chair. Your eyes widened, and that feeling in your chest fluttered when you were met with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen.

They were warm, and even though he was mad, he still looked like he had just woken up from a dream. He looked like a male model. You were completely infatuated.

“You alright, hunny?” His voice was gentle and quiet. His voice was like a lullaby and the only thing you could focus on in the noisy bar.

You didn’t even register the nickname.

It was only when he referred to you as “his wife" that you finally snapped out of it.

You were about to argue back, but he took your hand in his and leaned forward to your ear. His breath was warm, and your body reacted on its own.

To some, it would look like an endearing kiss on the cheek, but in reality, he was only whispering.

“Just play along. Marriage will scare him off faster than anything.” There was humor in his tone, and you could feel the smile in his voice.

You nodded in agreement, not wanting to deal with an uncomfortable situation, and as it turns out, Harvey Specter knows exactly how to get someone to back down.

It took all but a few minutes, and he was able to scare the man away. Afterward, you offered your hand to shake his in thanks, and even though he gave you a charming smile, it was his eyes you were most drawn to.

That night, you were sure you were in love.

Since that night, you found yourself frequently going to that bar and talking to the handsome stranger. You fell in love with the way he always paid attention and asked questions about your life and your work. His words were like a breeze in the summer, making you feel alive and warm. He was so easy to talk to, and you were surprised at how quickly you became comfortable around him.

You would ask each other questions, flirt, and even laugh. Sometimes, you would go out to dinner. Nothing too formal, usually just for sushi and wine, but the night would be perfect.

As the months rolled by, he began to be the best part of your day. Whenever you saw him, it would brighten your day, and whenever he'd smile, it would warm your soul.

But one day, that all changed.

Harvey became colder towards you, and you began to wonder if you had done something wrong. But it was never you. It was always Harvey who started the arguments. It was always Harvey who pushed you away, but never you.

It was a Tuesday evening, and you had just returned from work. You expected the day to be stressful as usual, but nothing could prepare you for what came that evening.

You were about to get a glass of water when Harvey stormed in, tie in hand with a pissed-off look in his eye.

“Hey Harv…” You started, but Harvey cut you off.

"Don’t.” He didn’t even look at you, only shrugging off his coat and tossing it on the hook. “I’m not in the mood.”

He didn't even glance your way before he walked over to the fridge and opened it. He rummaged through the fridge for a few minutes before taking out a beer. He opened the bottle, took a swig, and let out a loud sigh. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. You wanted to comfort him, but your legs were glued to the floor, unable to move.

"What do you want for dinner? I'm going to order takeout," He said, not even looking at you.

You remained quiet, unsure if you should speak or not.

Harvey didn't speak much more that night. The only words he spoke were asking you what you wanted and when it would be there. But other than that, it was quiet. You ate your takeout in silence and took your bath without saying a word.

In the morning, he was gone before you woke. You assumed he went to work, and when you checked your phone, you were right. He texted you to say that he would be at work all day. It wasn't until that evening that you found out what was going on.

And you didn’t figure it out from him.

Donna. She had told you after you called her for help, asking her why he was acting so strangely.

And thus, the big fight that made Harvey mess up for once. You didn’t mean to blow up at him, but with his constant avoiding and refusal to speak, you got mad.

He thought you were pissed about the dishes and didn't take it seriously at first, but when you began to yell, he realized that wasn't the issue.

"I can’t keep doing this. I know it’s hard for you given how it is at work, but… God, Harvey, I feel like I don't even know you anymore!"

He scoffed and gave you a look you knew too well.

"You can't even spend five seconds with me without snapping or accusing me of something, and that’s not even the worst part," You shook your head and clenched your fists.

Harvey didn’t say anything, only folding his arms and watching you closely.

"You don't talk to me anymore, you don't pay attention, you're just cold." Your eyes stung as you said those words. The reality of it all was just hitting you, and the longer it went on, the worse you felt. "You used to be so sweet, and I used to feel like we were the best team."

“What’re you saying?” Harvey asked, taking a step closer to you.

"I’m saying how I hate that I always have to call Donna and tell her that, 'Harvey’s lashing out again, what happened this time?' when I should be hearing about what's going on from you. But you never open up. You don't tell me how your day is going; you don't tell me how your firm is. I don't know what's wrong. I never know what’s wrong. And when I ask, you either tell me it's nothing or say nothing at all.”

Your voice broke slightly, and you looked away. You couldn't bear to look at Harvey right then. It felt like everything you were saying was a slap in the face to him, and you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to hurt him. You didn't want to be a bad person. You wanted to be good for Harvey. You loved him more than anything, but you couldn't take the pain any longer.

"And now, I just feel like you don't care about me, that you don't love me, that you don't love anything at all. It's like you don't care about anything that I've done for you, that you're just walking away from it all like it doesn't mean anything to you. I can't keep living like this."

You held your tears back, but you didn't say anything else.

You started heading toward the door, not wanting to look at him, but he quickly grabbed your arm and turned you around. He looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, you spoke.

"Just let go.” Your voice was quiet. You couldn't bear to look at him anymore. You tried to pull your arm back, but Harvey wouldn't let go.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you could hear the pain in his voice. You could tell he wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I'm going to think. So, why don’t you do the same and then call Donna and ask her what you should do because she seems to be the only one who knows what's going on with you."

You started heading for the door once again, and when he didn't stop you this time, you pulled your arm out of his grasp.

You could still feel the sting when you woke up the next day, but you were glad it was gone.

After that day, Harvey called you, and you ignored him. Seeing his name pop up on the screen only made you sad, and you didn't know how to deal with that, so you put your phone away, unanswered, and shut him out.

Your parents' house was always open to you, so you spent a few nights there to clear your mind.

As you sat there, watching some crappy romance movie with your family, you only thought about him. The good times. The happy times. The laughs. The smiles. The love.

Harvey always had problems with committing to anything. You knew that before you got together.

You remember all the arguments you had about it. How he would always say everything but the word "love” because he was too scared that you would leave once it was out in the open.

And now, with everything you just went through, you didn't think you would ever forgive yourself if you left. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you abandoned the man you loved, who you knew loved you just as much.

You spent hours debating in your head on if it was worth it. Suppose it was worth fighting for.

And that's when it hit you.

The realization of it all.

He was a lawyer. It's his nature to fight. His nature is to argue and argue until the end. He would never admit defeat or admit defeat was even possible. And you were the person he was willing to fight for and fight for you he would.

The night you decided to go home and face him came faster than you thought. And you didn’t even make it out of your parent's house because he was waiting for you at the front door.

Regret was in those beautiful eyes. He wasn’t in a suit, either. He was in jeans and a T-shirt with a sweater, and he looked so casual but, at the same time, so handsome. You wanted to reach out and touch him, just to see if he was real, but you held yourself back.

You stood there and looked at him, and he looked right back at you. He didn't move, didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes.

And then he finally spoke.

"I messed up," Harvey said quietly, stepping closer to you.

You nodded.

"I should've talked to you sooner, but I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't understand. I was afraid that you'd look at me the same way as everyone else. I was afraid that you wouldn't love me anymore."

"I never stopped loving you, Harvey," You said quietly, looking up at him. "I just stopped thinking you loved me back."

He took another step closer to you, and before he could say another word, you had your arms wrapped around him. Your body fit against his like it was supposed to be there, and he did the same.

Your foreheads touched, and you looked into his eyes. He looked into yours.

"I love you.”

Your eyes met, and you practically almost burst into tears. You had waited for him to say it for so long.

"I love you so much." He whispered, “And I’m sorry I didn’t show it. I’m sorry I made you doubt that."

You sniffled and nodded. “You know you’re being the most Hallmark cliche ever right now, right?" You let out a small laugh, wiping away a few tears that were escaping you. "Hot lawyer and a tearful confession. All we need now is a dog."

Harvey laughed and looked away for a second. "Don’t forget about the townspeople watching us from their windows and cheering."

“Like who? Donna?”

"Well, I was going to say your parents, but sure. Let's just add Donna." He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"You really do love me, right? And you aren't just saying it for a townsperson's sake?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Harvey put his hands on your waist and looked at you, still smiling.

“I’m saying it for the dog.”

“Harvey.” You gave him a look.

"Alright, alright. I'm saying it for the townspeople. For Donna, if she were here."

“Mhmm... and for yourself?"

Harvey stared into your eyes and gave you the most gentle smile you had ever seen.

"And for you." He whispered.

That was it. That was the moment you knew it was real. You could feel it in your heart, in your bones, and in your very soul.

You kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer to him, and you pressed your body against him.

It felt like time had stopped as the kiss lingered on for what felt like years. His lips moved with yours, and you felt like your soul was leaving your body and going to heaven. It felt like a dream. It was a dream.

And for you, that would be your happy ending.

The world worked in mysterious ways, and so did Harvey Specter. But one thing you learned about Harvey is that he knows exactly how to work the world.

And after that night? He definitely worked it for you.

[showstopper35]

the human form (bill cipher nsfw!)

a/n: don’t ask me why I wrote this. I’m losing all self control. may draw at least my bill design later. This could be an x reader or you could pretend it's Ford.

notes/cw: NSFW!! SMUT! oral sex, handjob, fingering, cumplay. reader is gn. unfortunately I am a subscriber to Twinkish Bill Cipher, so there’s that.

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"How many holes do you have?" a familiar, grating voice asks as I am buried in a book.

"Excuse me?" I ask, peering at Bill's floating form over the top of my book.

"Holes. You." He points.

"Well, there's my mouth, ears, nose...that's five." I say slowly. "Do tear ducts count?"

"Yes. Seven, so far. But aren't there more holes down there?" He points to my lower region.

"Um..yes. Two or three, depending on the body." I say quietly. "For waste and for...um.."

"Cum?" he asks innocently.

"Yeah. That." I choke. Surprised he knows what that is, considering he refers to humans as "meat sacks".

"What's cum like? Is it yellow too?" he asks, sitting down in the air and crossing his legs.

"No...it's usually white and clear-ish. Why are you asking about...this?" I say tentatively.

"I want to experience more with my human form. You know, like, pain, but also pleasure. It'll help me understand how to manipulate you freaks better. " he muses, smirking somehow without a mouth.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Well, you could try...um..making that with your human form, I guess. If you wanted to." I had no idea where this conversation was going.

"How?" comes the new question, making me nearly blush. For all the weird shit he says, talking about sex was somehow weirder.

"You know where your dick is?" I ask. He nods. "You...can stroke it yourself. Or have someone stroke it for you if they want. Or they can use their mouth, or you can put it into someone else's...holes...and pump it until you cum." My voice progressively got quieter and more flustered as I explained to him all the different ways people came. He seemed to get gradually more excited as I went on.

With a flash of blue light, he transformed into his familiar human design. Gangly limbs, crooked mischievous smile, triangular eyepatch, and messy cowlicked hair. He immediately unzips his black pants.

"Woa! Woa! I'm right here!" I startle out of my seat, averting my gaze as he starts pulling on the waistband of his yellow boxers.

"I know. You're gonna help me." He states simply. He reaches over and loosely grabs my wrist. I jerk back, face flushed.

"Absolutely not! I'm not touching you." I all but scream.

"Please? Please? If you do this, I'll give you a small breakthrough in your research. I know you want it." His grip around my wrists tightens--a threat. I stall, a frown on my face.

"Fine." I say, before I can properly regret it.

"Really?" He lets go of my wrist, smiling.

"Just...just quickly. And you better keep your end of the deal."

He waves me away, already slipping into my chair. He points to the ground, and I slowly slide to my knees, my face between his thighs. He slowly pulls his length out of his boxers. His dick is relatively skinny, like the rest of him, but he definitely gave himself a generous length when designing this body.

"Are...you sure about this?" I ask, soft. He nods, watching me with intense fascination and almost greed. With that permission, I gently wrap a hand around the hilt of his length, slowly stroking up and down. He instantly flinches against my touch, and I can tell by his tension that it takes a lot for him to not pull away.

"Just tell me if you want to stop." I whisper, before kissing the top of his dick. I lick the beads of precum, a slight smile forming at my lips at its salty taste and the shiver that went up through his body. I place my whole lips around the head, sucking down and up in slow motions. I enjoy Bill's trembling, especially when he briefly closes his eyes.

I suck more, licking a thick stripe along the bottom of his cock, enjoying the soft whimper that escaped his mouth. He looked away, visibly embarrassed, but he runs a hand through my hair before tugging on it.

"Enjoying this?" I murmur, kissing the side of his dick. He just growled in response, his long, serpentine tongue flicking out between his lips. I feel his thighs twitch, shuddering. He's probably close.

I pump my hand around his cock harder, nearly choking as I try to fit more of it into my mouth with each suck. I go faster and faster, tears pricking at the edges of my vision. Finally, with a violent jerk, his hips buck into my face and he yanks on my hair so hard I whine. A nearly painful shudder runs through his thighs as hot cum spills into my mouth. I pull back, letting it drip onto my chin.

Slowly, still twitching, he reaches down to me and swipes at the cum on my chin, sticking his fingers into his mouth. "Salty." he comments, though it doesn't look like he hates it. He then wipes the rest of it onto my neck.

"Well? How was it?" I ask, touching his dick once again to cover my hand in cum. He takes my wrist and licks my palm, then presses my hand to his chest.

"I...I liked it. I see why it makes you ugly freaks go crazy." He sighs, leaning back, licking more of my fingers and ruffling my hair with his other hand.

"I'm glad. We aren't all bad, hmm?" I laugh, kissing his cock once more before standing up.

"No...not all bad."

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[anjelicawrites]

Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

It's All an Act

Actor!AU Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 7.6 K summary: Actor!Bruce plays as your love interest in your up-coming movie warnings: afab!reader, both being about the same age, acting sex scenes on set (not real secs for now), reference to the Writer's Strike (2023) please don't arrest me, sassy and smug Bruce, making out a/n: got this idea while scrolling through pinterest, lost my mind somewhere during this, originally wanted to make a single part on it, but I think it's better if I make it a few parts instead. enjoy!

next part

Everyone knew you. Well, it was hard to find someone who didn‘t at least know how you looked like. The same goes to Bruce Wayne, but there is probably a chance that he is even more successful than you.

And that‘s exactly what you are trying to change with your new movie. Casting him as the main character and yourself as his love interest will get the media spiraling. Being a director and actor really does have its charms sometimes. And surprisingly enough, he accepted the role since he auditioned to it in the first place. Now you can finally get to prepare all the stuff for the filming days once you got all the other actors for each role filled, and the script finished.

There‘s no more satisfying feeling you get when everything seems to work out and it‘s time to actually film the movie. The hardest part is to keep it a secret for a few months until the production gets into working. But for now you are pretty satisfied with your work, getting some progress and even getting to test out new cameras for the movie, form a company that supports the production. Only thing that‘s making you a little weary is the actual success of the movie. What if he ends up getting even more popular than you? What if the movie flops completely and you need to somehow cover that up? What if you won‘t have good chemistry on set, even with two talented actors like you two? What if…

»Have you finally got the copy of the storyboard?«

Malva asks, looking to you with her usual strict look, one of your close friends waiting for your answer. She is working with the camera crew, has gone to filming school with you. Has sticked to your side through thick and thin, and she still gets ideas that blow your mind at times. Her ideas are mostly for camera directing, but that's the most exciting part in filming for most, so it really pays out.

At her question, you hand her the copy of the storyboard, getting to discuss some questions and how you actually imagined the scenes to look like, getting invested on talking with her that you don‘t notice your co-star arrive on set and search for the director.

»I‘m guessing you are the director? Sorry for interrupting.«

There is that bright smile in front of you that never fails to make you swoon for at least a split moment. No, actually, you can‘t stand the way he looks so perfect and has more prominent in media than you. Although it is a little weird when he mostly takes on smalled roles as side characters and rarely gets a main role like this.

»No, don‘t be sorry, I‘m glad you made it! We‘re still setting up some stuff, so you can get ready in trailer seven.«

He nods and gets to the trailer that is going to be his while filming, letting you have some more time with Malva and your crew to set everything up and start to film the first scenes.

You settle on filming the scenes in the middle of the movie, only able to use the setting for today and tomorrow, really hoping you won‘t film too long so the landlord of the property won‘t get angry at you.

Once settled, the filming starts and it goes by fairly nice and as planned. Sure, it was a little funny acting out a scene with him, playing a couple who‘s having an argument about their current state of relationship, even when they just met on set.

Either way, the crew and co-director are satisfied with the result after taking some more takes. Maybe this will be better than you‘ve expected. Until you realised what the next scenes were going to be. You hate yourself for writing this script. A sex-scene, seriously? Trying to overshadow your small worries, you get ready in your trailer with some help of your staff before you discuss the ‚choreography‘ of the scene together with Bruce and the intimacy coordinator. This loosens you both up, having a plan and also know what to expect from this scene, since you literally just wrote „They undress and have sex.“ What a creative script writer you are.

You don‘t know what you expected, but you didn‘t necessarily think that Bruce would be so open and chill about such a scene. During your discussion of boundaries and acceptable touching areas, he seemed like he didn‘t have any problem being touched anywhere, really. It was a little strange at first, but you quickly realised he probably just wants to get over with it. And that made you a little sad. He should be comfortable during the scene, not be annoyed and hoping for it to end quickly, considering filming usually takes a few hours. The co-director and you want some close-ups, wide- hots and midshots in order to edit it together as the best verion of the scene in post. Of course it‘s going to take hours and it‘s important to feel comfortable during the long filming hours together.

But he reassured you after asking him again with that charming smile of his, hating how perfect it looks like. You‘ve seen him on interviews and on the red carpet before, but seeing him smile like that never fails to make you wonder if he is actually real.

Finally, with everything settled and with the modesty garments on, you can finally film the ‚Reuniting Scene‘ with your co-star.

Your movie is about two past lovers who find each other gain after a few years, then getting together again. What a classic. The plot is however more than that. The main character, Bruce, or rather Andy in the movie, is a playboy and billionare with a secret identity. His love interest doesn‘t know this though and just wants to get together with him again, and he is way too naive to get in bed with you almost immediately after one cafe date. Playboy activities.

This means that the scene you are about to play is essential for the movie.

First, you start with wide shots. Easy done, getting a camera set up that follows your movements onto the bed. After getting some shots of Andy passsionately and messily kissing you while guiding you urgently to the bed, you already feel a little worn down. So, time for a break!

During the break, he approaches you to discuss the other stuff in the script.

»Just… how did you get the idea of this plot? I mean, a playboy having a secret identity as a hero? How did you come up with that?«

You didn‘t know he was a secret interviewer as well. But putting your slight surprise aside, you start explaining to him briefly what got you into this idea while trying to keep it as brief as possible. Also without telling him about your initial plan of getting more popular than him... In a way.

All the while he listens to the while you explain, listening intently while nodding along from time to time. Unfortunately, you got a little carried away while explaining him your reasons for the movie, having ended up info dumping on him a little about your researches you did for writing the script, which however made him listen to you even more intently.

»So, I also just watched a lot of videos and documentations about gun handling and missions from former private agents, so I can make this as believeable as possible, but I also feel like I still haven‘t mastered it quite well for now, even though I made sure the props are as realistic as possible and we have a good choregrapher for the fight scenes later on – « You ramble on as you get on set again, settling onto position on the bed while talking his ears off in the meantime. It doesn‘t seem like he minds though, listening to your words, while throwing in some small questions and check-ups as he is hovering above you on the bed.

»Yeah, you can put your hand on my thigh – and I also made sure to actually make the small mission Andy is in will be as realistic and logical as possible, but I‘m also a little unsure if the scenario is actually so realistic as it is…«

»You‘re really determined to get the most realistic movie of the year, huh?« He muses back once you trail off, looking to you once you are both finally in position on bed.

»What? How could you ever think of that?«

You retort sarcastically, not having noticed how much you‘ve been talking until the co-director just calls »Action!« for the cameras to roll and you have to act.

Your breath hitches subtly once you feel his hand ride up your thigh before landing at your collar of your shirt and starts to unbutton it in careful but rushed movements. Again, you have to follow the small choreography you both came up with earlier, your brain working quick to actually follow through and act as if this already feels like heaven. Finally, you get your head together and reach for the back of his neck to connect your lips, getting a small moan from both of you. His hands finally pry your shirt off and he disconnects his lips from you to trail them down your throat towards your chest, a small shiver running down your spine against your will.

You both agreed for him to have the upper hand in this, since he is acting as a playboy, and you‘d be lying if you said he isn‘t quite confident in his role. Your thoughts are quickly thrown away as you feel him press kisses against your temple and down to your jaw while his hands roam over your sides. Mimicing his actions, your hands feel across his lean back and press him further down towards you. A low growl escapes him before he takes your thigh in his hand to push it up against his side.

The scene ends for now, needing to repeat it for a close-up shot. You are actually grateful he has expirience in intimate scenes, not needing to give him any more instructions or tips since he has quite a good knowledge in it already. Repeating the same scene for the next shot was easier, actually having had a little time to prepare instead of being pulled away from your rant about your script. Afterwards, you get another break and take your time to actually collect yourself before continuing with the scenes. Your co-director pulls you to her side for a moment to look over the filmed scenes, not having expected for them to actually look… hot? Well, this is good, actually. It‘s a little strange seeing you on screen like this, but you knew you would need to look over the scenes either way.

Once satisfied, you get back to your spot to sit down and scroll through your phone, distract yourself from the scene you just filmed over and over again, feeling how mush your brain feels right now.

This time, Bruce doesn‘t come around to ask you about the plot and other stuff, probably having had enough of your rant earlier. You really tried to explain it to him briefly, but it ended up in a full ramble session.

Filming the last few scenes were a little difficult to master from the last hours of filming, but time came by faster than you‘d expected and it is time to pack up and leave the set for today.

◐

The filming days actually went by rather fast, and your work relationship grew stronger with Bruce. You had some fun actually acting the scenes out with him, even when the first day was just slightly awkward between you two. Currently, you are neck deep in a book, annotating the pages at the side with a red fineliner during your break. The colour matches the book cover. Bruce walks by and the book in your hand catches his attention. Reading the title, he immediately recognises it and steps up to you.

»My son loves this book.« You finally look up from the words on the page and lock eyes with him, being slightly surprised by it.

»Which son?« You ask slowly, being unsure if this question was offensive or not, even though he showed his rather dark humour early on and doesn‘t seem to be hardly offended by something ever. He huffs out lightly amused and answers your question without missing a beat.

»Jason. My second son. He is a big bookworm, I think he read more classics than school textbooks.«

»Well, he isn‘t the only one.« He smiles lightly at that and takes a seat besidde you, his cup of coffee still in hand.

»So, you‘re a bookworm? Or just to pass time?«

Honestly, you haven‘t exactly expected for him to strike up a conversation with you that seems to be genuine at that as well. The first talk he started with you was just about the script anyway and it was more to clear up his curiousness and slight confusion. This actually feels like he wants to talk to you and get to know you.

»I read quite often. At least when I have time, like now.«

You answer him and close your book, setting it on your lap before clasping your hands over it. Bruce takes your answer in, asking another question.

»And you annotate? What exactly do you write down?« That question throws you a bit off guard, trying to answer him without sounding like a total loser.

»Uhm… usually just my thoughts. And sometimes I analyse sentences, if I feel like it.«

Finally, Bruce seems to be a little impressed. Or maybe he is just good at acting surprised, which you wouldn‘t doubt he is doing right now.

»Really? So, you usually just leave simple comments or thoughts? That‘s actually pretty nice, but I wouldn‘t have the energy to do so.«

You manage a small chuckle at his words, not sure if you should be flustered or not. Was that even a compliment?

»Oh, I get it. Can‘t have much time to yourself with this job.«

He lets out a small laugh as well and nods in agreement, fidgeting with his coffee cup in his hands a little.

The conversation pauses briefly, Bruce speaking up again and looking towards you.

»Would you like to go out and get some coffee some time? Get a break from all this, wouldn‘t hurt right?«

Without much thinking you agree on it and set up a date for it, only later realising it sounded a little suspicius. Even if it was just a little suspicious, you won‘t let that go in your mind. He basically just asked you out. And typically enough, you didn‘t even notice it or gave it a second thought until later when he left again.

Was this genuine or was it just method acting? This would be a little too much for method acting, no? Maybe. Does this concern you even more? Yes.

Getting off the break, you continue to film the second act of the movie, already feeling like this will actually pay out in the end.

It doesn‘t really seem like he is method acting, more like acting out the scenes like a normal actor after practicing his lines thoroughly, and being confident in his performance. Besides, method acting has nothing to do with him asking you out. Method acting, also known as ‚The Method‘ is a form of rehearsal where the actors tries to understand his character and analyses their emotions in order to act it out as accurate as possible and to show the audience the depth of the character. While it is mostly common used for theater, it‘s also common to use it for film.

You are really trying to figure Bruce out. In past interviews he was nothing but charming and polite, strictly polite even, but on set he is no different. It‘s strange, most actors you‘ve worked with were at least a little chaotic and different on set, but not him. You hate to say it, but he is not like others. He has something more to him. A certain charm and touch you can‘t quite put a finger on yet. And being with him almost every day because of work is giving you the opportunity to check on it and find it out, but he is hard to reach as well. It‘s not like he is hard to talk to, it‘s quite the opposite. But your conversations have never been more than mere small talk and discussions about the script, that usually ends up with you rambling off about it. So, you are frustrated.

Eventually, you help the crew and technicians with putting the stuff away for today, knowing you shouldn‘t do it, but you can‘t just leave the studio without helping them with the rest.

Bruce catches you however and snatches the heavy camera from you so he can put it in its case without your back breaking halfway.

»Oh, you don‘t need to, I can- «

»None of that. You already work so much, it‘s only fair when someone helps you out. Besides, I like helping people.«

He ignores your words and just smiles softly, as he puts the camera gently into its case, it seeming as if it doesn‘t weight anything in his arms. The he handled it with such ease really hurts your ego a bit, but also makes you wonder what his workout routine is. Because there is no way he just didn‘t break out a sweat while doing that. Unlike you.

»We don‘t want to miss out on our small date, right? Or did you forget already?«

You don‘t see it but Bruce is ready to be rejected and made fun of with how surprised you look at him. But truth is, you really just forgot about the arranged meeting you both settled on earlier in lunch break, because of all the things you had to do today.

»No, sure we‘re still going out. I just… kind of, forgot about it, but I didn‘t! I mean, I just, uh… let‘s just go, okay?«

You tag him along to the exit and he leads you to the café he mentioned earlier, it seeming already cosy enough from the outside. He opens the door for you before choosing a place to sit at and goes to the counter to order you both a warm drink. He sits down across from you at the table again and just looks at you with a small but noticeable smile. It is quiet for a moment before he speaks up.

»What kind of books do you read again? Or any other hobbies you have?«

Is he really trying to just befriend you or are you just another hopeless case of delusional? Quickly putting those thought aside, you answer him and make it short this time. No rambling now. Once he finds out about your passion for thriller, he perks up and shares his own few favourites about thriller and detective stories. Although he tends to love real biographies and real incidents, there is a mutual interest for those gernes in books.

»It‘s a good thing we have something in common. But I‘ve never tried annotating books before like you do. Is it fun?«

You shrug lightly in response, answering him after a brief moment.

»Depends on the person, but I really enjoy doing that. I like reading through stuff and write down my own thoughts. I also underline sentences and just… use the book. I didn‘t buy it for nothing, right?«

He nods lightly to your words, probably not used to someone using a book to actually write in it just for fun. Most people see it as a crime to doodle into the pages fo your book, but you take pride in it.

»Could I borrow one of your books? Especially one that you wrote in already.«

The suggestion takes you by surprise, but who are you to say no to that? Of course you nod without thinking too much about it, already thinking about which book you will lend him.

»Sure, I‘ll lend you one! I‘ve waited so long for someone to ask me this, what book do you want? I can also just take the book I read today. I have read it over three times anyway.«

Now Bruce is slightly surprised but also glad you agreed to this so easily. He nods slightly, not wasting time on responding to you.

»Animal Farm? Sure, that sounds good.«

Even when the novella isn‘t a thriller or detective, he is still willing to read it just to get to know you even more and read through those silly comments on the sides. Reaching over, you hand him the book which he puts safely into his own bag before the conversation continues between you both and you end up chatting about other stuff as well and enjoy your coffee while talking. You don‘t even realise how much time goes by before the staff in the shop are slowly getting ready to close it, cleaning around and making sure you both don‘t want to order anything anymore. That‘s also when you see how dark it is outside, getting out of the shop with him and walk down the dimly lit streets side-by-side.

Once you are both back at the parking lot, he walks you to your car, making sure you won‘t get kidnapped.

»You know, we could read together in my library some time. If that would be okay.«

That thought put a smile onto your facce but you quickly mask it, not wanting to come off as too excited.

»We could, at least I won‘t mind. I don‘t want to be a bother in your home or anything.«

You respond, still trying to be polite but he seems to destroy it with shaking his head.

»You won‘t be, promise. I‘m sure Damian won‘t mind, and all my other kids only visit occasionally now.« Bruce reassures you, smiling a little at you as he stands before you, waiting for your response. Sighing out you give in, agreeing to the invitation.

»Fine. We can meet up some day to read. I‘m sure I‘ll have time in about a week.« Bruce nods and feels glad you will make some time for him to hang out again. Reading together in comfortable silence? There is nothing better in Bruce‘s mind.

◐

The silence is filled with tension while Andy is standing tall, still with his suit and pistol in hand. His lover is standing right in front of him, a look of horror on their face that makes his chest shred into pieces.

»I can explain...« Andy carefully starts and puts the safety on in his gun before placing it onto the table beside him.

»First you are some kind of playboy, now you are… a murderer?! Who are you really, Andy?«

His lover demands, voice trembling lightly as the tension only rises and rises more between them. With a small step, he tries to get closer and make sure his partner isn‘t freaking out totally.

»I am not a murderer, Bell… I‘m...« There‘s a dramatic pause before he continues, taking a deep breath.

»I am Strong Guy.«

Bruce is doing his best not to laugh at his superhero name from the script, clenching his jaw and keeping up his tense glare, waiting for you to say your next line. Even his damn children tease and make of him for accepting such role, but that‘s not really a surprise.It‘s only a matter of time when he will finally crack up, having warned you prior already.

»No way. You… can‘t be. How is that possible? But Strong Guy is basically from space, right? What… have I been dating an alien the whole time?«

You are in complete shock and disbelief. At least trying to seem like it. When you wrote the script, you really had to hold yourself back from writing a better scene than this. But Hollywood is demanding and only wants to please the poor viewers who are seeing the same movie over and over again, but in a different fond every year. At least the Writer‘s Strike is almost over and other, more legendary directors can direct more original and creative movies… well, depends if the WGA and other people responsible for that will actually care about anything other than money.

»Babe, believe me, I am still me. The Andy you know from high school and the same one you fell for all those years back.« Strong Guy, Andy, uses a softer tone with you now and looks genuinely desperate not to lose his partner because of his secret identity.

Your character isn‘t strong for that matter and gives in after a few more weak attempts of arguing, before the tension eases up and you both hug each other tightly, whispering sweet nothings against the other.

Once the scene ends, you have to repeat for another four times to get it in every angle and make sure you get the best takes. By the time that‘s finished, Bruce can already feel how drained he is after the dramatic and less than poorly written scene. Don‘t get him wrong, he likes the way you tell the story, but the dialoge couldn‘t be any more cheesy and… over-cliché in his opinion. Not that he would that say to your face.

Malva approaches you with a glass of water in hand, offering it to you to cool your mind after the rather intense scene.

»I‘m counting the days, you know? When you and him become… a thing?«

She elbows your side playfully, making you almost spill your water and choke on the sip you just took.

»Mal, what the fuck!«

»Fuck! Yes, when is that going to happen?« She inquires and awaits your answer curiously, seeming dead-serious. But you know her better than that. She is most likely just teasing and tries to force another crush on you yet again.

»I‘m not going to answer the question. We barely know each other.« You mumble back finally and sip on you glass of water in attempt to hide your tiny smile, glancing towards Bruce to make sure he isn‘t secretly eavesdropping on you two.

»Look, I‘m just trying to be honest. The way he looks at you? You can‘t tell me you haven‘t noticed. He is, like… so expressive with his eyes and so dreamy...« Malva trails off and sighs out softly, making you cringe lightly beside her.

You hush her quickly once the man you are both fussing over walks by, exhaling wearily and speak to your best friend again.

»Okay, I may have lend him one of my annotated books and he probably invited me to his library to read together. Next week, or something.«

Her jaw falls almost literally to the floor as she listens to you, in disbelief and is actually speecheless for a second.

»Oh, you have to tell me about how it went! You two already look so good together on set, I can‘t imagine — « You cut her off quickly by pressing your palm against her lips, embarrassed and also noticing Bruce being dangerously near your area.

This is going to be a hell of filming and hang outs in the next few months…

◐

You knew his house was big, but… you nearly want to throw up at how big and pretty it is. If there‘s thing you can compliment him, is that he has good taste in almost everything besides coffee. What sane person likes their coffee completely black and plain?

Walking up to the big double door, you ring the bell and wait patiently. Your wait doesn‘t last long as one of the doors swings open and a rather small boy greets you with a judgemental look. That‘s surely one of his sons. Jason, probably? No, he is too old to look this young…

»Hey there. I‘m here to meet Bruce, is he here?« You greet as polite and friendly as possible, always having managed to scare off children without meaning to. Or at least babies.

»Father should be inside.«

Politely enough, the boy steps aside and lets you enter, watching you intently as you take the interior in.

Feeling a little awkward, you decide to ask. »What‘s your name, by the way?«

He narrows his eyes at you and crosses his arms, answering your questioin that was meant to be polite.

»You are not worth it to know my na —«

»Damian! I‘m sure you showed her around a little and were polite, weren‘t you?«

Bruce hurries down the stairs and approaches you both, seeming only slightly tense as he awaits his son‘s answer, running his hand through his hair.

»Of course, father...«

Damian scoffs lightly and averts his eyes away from you to the floor, seeing some similarities between him and Bruce.

The older man smiles and steps beside you, eventually paying his attention back to you.

»Sorry, this is Damian. My youngest.« He finally introduces and gestures to his son in front of you, taking him in again and nod slightly. Damian is doing a poor job in hiding his displeasure on meeting you, grumbling something under his breath as he gives you a sharp side-glance.

»Alfred said he needs some help in the garden, why don‘t you join him?« Bruce uses the code word they settled on in case Damian should be somewhere that he isn‘t welcome to and gets the message, making his way outside to the backyard.

You watch him wander off in a rather moody demeanor, feeling Bruce‘s warm hand settle between your shoulderblades.

»I hope he wasn‘t a bother while I was gone. He can get… pretty angsty at times.«

He apologises but you quickly wave it off, actually being quite amused and not bothered at all.

»No, I get it. I was just as grumpy and annoyed when I was younger, I don‘t blame him.« At your words, he raises an eyebrow while leading up ustairs with him, walking to his library.

»That‘s interesting. I could never imagine you as a grumpy teenager though, what were you like? Also throwing a tantrum for not receiving the latest comic book?«

He teases lightly but also refers to one of his kids when they were a little younger and spoiled, all to his fault.

»No, I was more of a… rebellious kind? I hated it when people wouldn‘t take me seriously and protested a lot. Over the right stuff, though! Maybe you could call it a punk phase, but I really just wanted to be taken seriously and be understood, you know?«

Bruce listened to you explain while entering the library after passing the hallway, looking to you once again with a fond expression.

»You and I may have more common in that sense, then. I also tried to prove myself to others and threw myself into… some situations. But all for the right reasons, right?«

Maybe Malva was right. You should hurry up and claim this man for yourself.

Snapping your gaze away from him, you take in the big library you are both in, it being a spacious room with tall shelfs, full with books that go up the ceiling, and some couches around in the middle to lounge on. You genuinenly haven‘t expected for him to have this whole area as a library that‘s actually filled with so many books, being literally surrounded by them.

»So? Have you got a book to read? If not, you can always lend one from here.«

He claps his hands once and walks to one of the larger couches before sitting down on it, the book you gave him from your earlier hang out in his hands.

»Oh, I came prepared, I have my own book with me.«

You answer back and take a seat beside him on the couch, taking out the book from your bag as you lean back and start to read where you left off.

He shares his last glance at you before he foccuses on his book for now, feeling joy at the small comments you left on the sides of almost every page, being content just reading in silence for now while sitting beside you.

Some time passes and you both have read quite a lot over the time-being, itching for a small break. Alfred, his butler apparently, had got you both some warm tea and cookies onto the coffee table in front of you and left after saying his usual polite words.

Tasting the cookies, you have never eaten such delicious and not overly sweet cookies before. You need to steal his recipe later and make them yourself at home. The tea is just as good, still warm and having a comforting effect on you. Bruce speaks up, his body turned more towards you on the couch as he has his arm around the back of the couch, sipping on his cup of tea.

»What do you think of your book so far?« It seems like he always asks these questions on purpose, just to hear you talk his ear off about a random topic. But you answer truthfully anyway, looking to him now as you take a break from munching on those cookies.

»I really love the way Pushkin wrote about his wife in his novels, every female character he inserts seems to be his wife and he won‘t waste any time on sweet talking everything. But his works actually represent a path from Neoclassicism through Romanticism to Realism, or whatever they say, so… I just love how easy his rhymes are in some passages and how obvious that is that he was such a hopeless romantic...«

You glance around the library as you talk, eventually trailing off and checking in to see his reaction. He leaned his head against his fist from his arm that rests on the back of the couch, eyes ever so tender and nonjudgemental. Almost loving.

»You okay?« You ask finally, unsure because of his quiet demeanor and how he just stares at you. How long has he been staring for?

»Yeah. Just wondering if you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.«

Now you feel offended, no matter how much he‘s flirting with you right now.

»Nonsense? I think you just lost your mind, I never talk nonsense, especially not about my favourite writer.«

Bruce can‘t help but smile at that, glad you didn‘t react badly to what he just blurted out without actually meaning to.

»I‘m sure everything you say is logical and accurate, but I —«

»Oh, so you weren‘t listening the whole time? Why do you even bother asking me about those —«

This time, you are the one getting interrupted and he puts a gentle hand onto your knee to try and soothe you.

»Because I love the sound of your voice.«

Oh, you froze. Bruce is panicking, he never thought he would be so straightforward with his feelings towards you, but something about you just lets him let loose and be himself. It‘s almost scaring him.

But you didn‘t freeze because you were startled or shocked, but because you never expected for him to compliment you in such a genuine and nice way. And his hand on your knee is only making your case worse. As he is about to get his hand back to himself, you move closer to him and hug him as tightly as you can. Bruce stumbles slightly back into the couch because of the force of your hug, but doesn‘t waste any time on hugging you back. He is instantly relieved at your reaction, letting himself melt into the hug and rub your back lightly in return.

»Not good at taking compliments?«

You scoff at his teasing comment, leaning a little off of him to look into his eyes again.

»At least I don‘t tell people they talk ‚nonsense‘ just to compliment them later.« He rolls his eyes at your light jab, loosening his grip around you as he is unsure if you want to stay in the hug for longer or not. When you don‘t let go, he decides to follow your lead and just let you stay half on top of him with your arms wrapped around his neck. It could come off as friendly cuddling, almost, but there seems to be still some light tension between the two of you.

The fact that Bruce has invited you to his Manor to simply read together says a lot. It is well known to the media that he hasn‘t really been in a relationship, and that he doesn‘t go around dating or hooking up usually. Bruce Wayne is mostly a mysterious person to the media, talking and responding politely and patiently to the interviewers or reporters, letting his guard down only rarely among other people he doesn‘t really know.

Working together with him has shown you that he can warm up to people, especially when they share interests or just seem good-hearted. Like you.

You have shown him how coorperative and kind you are to all your staff and co-actors, he has seen some of your interviews as well. Being kind and bringing a positive message is important for you, and you‘ve made sure to show it. Either through films or other actions, you managed to let Bruce believe there is still good in this world and genuine people. You aren‘t full of money, your beliefs are similar to his in that sense.

He hasn‘t realised it yet, but his hand traces mindless circles around your back as you two stay in the hug, your own hand lightly fidgeting with the back of his shirt collar.

As time passes and you two talk about whatever, the evening rolls by quickly and it becomes dark outside, making the atmosphere more relaxing. By the time you two have talked, you both adjusted your position more, his arms still around in a way while your body is laying mostly across his lap with your head resting against his chest. You didn‘t realize how comfortable it would be to lay almost completely on him, and you‘re trying to make it last.

He uses the opportunity to talk more about himself since you didn‘t really get the chance to get to know each other that much with work. Bruce mostly talks about his sons and daughter, describing their personalities as best as he can, telling a few funny stories here and there from their younger years, knowing they would kill him if they would find out he told you about it.

It‘s endearing hearing him talk about his children, listening to him with heart eyes as you stay in his arms, melting against his chest.

His voice smooth and low, a subtle rasp to it while he eyes dart around the room from one spot to the other until they land on you from time to time. He started to play with your hair at some point, twirling some strands around his finger before letting go and starting again, his hands always busy with something.

»Did anyone ever tell you how soothing you are? Like, I never expected for you to be so calm and kind until now. What‘s with the persona for the press?«

He looks down to you and continues to play around with your hair a little, adjusting his hold on you to let you stay comfortable against his chest.

»Everyone has an online persona. Like to stay more private about my stuff.«

He shrugs lightly, letting his arms stay loosely around you. That response makes you smile, leaning up a little.

»Does that mean I‘m special?«

Bruce can‘t help but smirk at that, shifting to make you face him more.

»I guess you are, yes.«

His warm expression makes you contemplate wether or not this has something more to it, if you both just really good friends already or more. The tension in the room seems thicken, especially with how close you both are right now on the couch. The library falls into a comfortable silence again, this time with both of you staring at the other. You study his features, realising how much prettier he is from up close. From this proximity, you can barely make out the faint freckles across his cheeks, making you want to study him more and find out about all the other faint or small features he has, taking pride in seeing such details.

He also focuses on your face, the way your eyes flit around his face and are soft in the warm light of the room. His hand carefully cups your cheek, feeling the soft and warm skin under his palm. Without thinking, you lean into his hand, looking back into his eyes.

It almost feels magical and surreal how close you are to him, realising you are both about to get even closer. Your heart starts to pick up its pace, but you don‘t pull away. Bruce‘s thumb brushes against your cheekbone, his adam‘s apple bobs briefly before he leans in, seeing how willing you are to stay close and closer.

Eventually, your lips meet and it feels better than any cinematic movie could ever potray a romantic scene. The kiss lingers before you break it, but stay close, your noses barely brushing together.

He trails his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, threading his fingers into your hair.

»Please tell me you wanted this just as much as me.« His voice is quite, careful. Warm.

»Genuinely? From the moment you invited me to your library.«

He smiles at your response, freely with his perfect teeth showing. Without further discussion, he presses his lips against yours again, making sure to be gentle, as if he could break you by being too harsh.

You tremble lightly in his arms, too enrupted by the sensation of the soft kisses to care about anything else. Getting the courage, you wrap your arms more around his neck and lean more into him, making him melt from the inside and become weak for you. You could do anything to him and he would happily let you. Is it a little too early to be so trusting? Maybe. Does he care or want to waste this time with you? Fuck no.

He sighs into the kiss and leans back further into the soft couch, making you follow and press yourself further against him. It becomes overwhelming, getting to sit properly on his lap, your hands on either side of his face, his hands resting contently at your thighs. And it happens.

You can‘t help it, you want – need friction from him, and buck your hips against him, earning a low groan from him.

His grip on your thighs tightens, breath starting to get shallow the longer you kiss. At his subtle reactions, you do that again, starting to grind lightly against him, your own breath growing heavier.

Bruce feels his head spin because of you, the way you are so eager to continue, to feel him more and to get more is making him fall even more for you. The fact alone that you are willing to trust him with your body is enough to get him going more, but he hates that you are both in his library at the moment and you are both nothing official yet.

He does what he thinks is logical and wants to be the responsible from the two of you.

His hands grab onto your hips, stopping you from picking up the pace or apply more pressure against him.

»Hey, easy… easy, we have all the time in the world, just...« He sighs out, loosening his grip on your hips once you simply sit on him.

»Did I do something wrong?«

You panic and look him over to see if you hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

»No! No, no, no, you never did anything wrong, I just… I don‘t want this to be our first time.«

As soon as he drops those words, you slump your full weight on him, slightly confused and disappointed.

»I just want you to have something better than having it in my damn library. You deserve more than that. It needs to be special.«

His hands settle on your waist, his hair slightly tousled and face flushed, chest heaving lightly as he catches his breath, but still feels breathless because of you.

You stay quiet for another moment, processing his words. It‘s difficult to do so, that sight in front of you is making you feral but he doesn‘t want to do anything more because… he wants to treat you better?

Now you are really starting to wonder if he is real. There is no way someone would be nice enough to actually stop making out before it escalates, just because he wants to make it special in another time.

»Oh… okay, then. I won‘t force you anyway.«

You shrug lightly, feeling disappointed. But you would hate to force him to something more. Bruce seems glad you agree on it so easily and lets his hands trail up and down your sides more until he sets you down beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

»Sorry for cock-blocking you, dear.«

He murmurs into your ear, making you flush and groan, elbowing his side annoyed; all the while he laughs amused.

←MASTERLIST

a/n: let me know what you think about it, hope you enjoyed it!

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

You know when you read a fic and love it so much that you want to find one exactly like it but different. Anyways, more Alternate Universe fics.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

These first few fics are all by elanev91 on ao3 (ao3 account required).

Force of Habit

Lily's been riding the same train back and forth to work for the last two and a half years and lowkey fancies the guy who sits one row up from her usual seat.

TW: parent death discussed

The fic that inspired the intro (I love it so much you don't understand)

Waffle Wars

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

every day I like you a little mower

Lily was JUST trying to be a good daughter and help her father with his yard work. Too bad the bloke next door is always outside and also the most annoyingly talkative person on the planet.

we could be gigantic series

Lily and James have been best friends since they were kids. Uni, a band, a trip abroad, a few tours and a couple of albums later, things start to change. Half an email fic, half a regular ol' narrative.

it wasn't a pity invite

Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omg i’m so sorry

The one where they’re both doctors - also Northern Irish Lily.

One Direction on the A4

James and Lily are having quite the morning. James thinks a little nonsense might fix it. Or James is a dork and Lily loves it.

Ye Olde Smut Fic

Student recruitment fairs suck, but never fear -- Professor Evans and Professor Potter have figured out how to make it a little less annoying.

Professor AU, Modern AU, Muggle AU. Smutty ridiculousness. Plot questionable.

The tragedy is that they live in America

The Yeast I Can Do

Dr Lily Evans had an absolute shit day at work. Luckily, there's a bakery nearby that offers a course that she hopes will take her mind off of things.

For my fellow jily & wolfstar enjoyers, go do yourself a favour and check out their other works on ao3.

Teenage Kicks by @arianatwycross

It all starts with Lily being hired to be the bands tour photographer, then she actually meets the band and she quickly becomes absorbed by their fast lifestyle, their pranks and the hot lead singer. But its not exactly simple to be crushing on a famous Rockstar, is it?

Foam Hearts by Sleepinghookah (on ao3)

Coffee shop AU. A story in which James and Lily are blind - both in entirely different ways.

I promise he's not a bad person. You've got to read till the end and it'll make sense

When The Skies Are Gray by @athenasparrow

“Carry me?” Lily scoffed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh in his face. Because he was about to do something nice for her. “I’m not some damsel in distress who can’t walk! I just need a bit of cover to make it to the tube.”

OR: two strangers, one umbrella, and a little bit of fate.

Tranquil Solitude (Until You Came Along) by @thelighthousestale

Prompt: I thought I went skinny dipping alone but oh my god this beautiful human is also here naked and I am a fool

All Lily wanted to do was take a nice, quiet swim on a hot day. And then James Potter showed up. And Lily had already removed her clothes for the private swim.

it would have been sweet by @firefeufuego

‘Lily,’ he says in her ear, voice slurred and barely audible above the pulsing bass of the music, ‘is there a reason I shouldn’t marry her?’

She can taste the truth bittersweet on her tongue: Yes of course there is, you colossal, darling idiot, you’re meant to be mine. But there’s the ring on Charlotte’s finger and there’s the one Lily found in Eddie’s sock drawer, and how can she be this person? The one who steals someone’s fiancé on his stag night? That’s not who she is, that won’t be who she is. ‘Of course not, James. You’ll make each other so happy.’ She nearly chokes on the lie as it leaves her mouth, all the more so because most of it isn’t even a lie at all.

For my second chance romance girls

This Hope is Treacherous by @tinyluminaryzombie

Lily Evans and James Potter: Aquentiences, Academic rivals, and now, Friends.

Except "friends" doesn't exactly feel right but Lily's too scared to do anything about it. But as James and her keep acting like more-than-friends she's unraveling with the uncertainty of it all.

OR: Choosing to fall in love can be just as thrilling and terrifying as love at first sight.

The Viscount's Daughter by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The beautiful, vivacious, and decidedly redheaded daughter of the 16th Viscount of Rowena has stolen the heart of young Prince James. Trouble is, she couldn't be less interested in him.

Thought it was abandoned but the author posted a snippet recently so maybe not?

The Queen of the Quills - Jily Edition by @elliemarchetti 

Lily and Petunia read the Queen of the Quills' latest column on James Potter, while the bachelor announces to his friends that he intends to get married.

Quest for Camelot by the incredible @petalsthefish

After the legendary Excalibur sword is stolen, Lily and James embark on a quest to retrieve the lost weapon. Lily searches for the sword to prove she is capable of being a knight despite being a girl. James searches because his falcon, Marlene, is desperate to find it for her master, Merlin. Along the way, they attempt to outwit the sinister Ruber, navigate through magical obstacles, decode puzzling prophecies, and uncover surprising similarities between themselves.

As their journey progresses, they both cannot deny the feelings growing between them with each passing day. Will they make it out of the quest alive, or will one of them perish in the ever-growing darkness that threatens to swallow the entire realm if Ruber gets his hands on the sword?

Based on the 1998 movie Quest for Camelot, but with more plot and less singing

Fearlessly Red also by @ /petalsthefish

Red. It was such an interesting color to correlate with emotion because it was on both ends of the spectrum. On one end there was happiness, falling in love, passion, all that. On the other end was jealousy, fear and frustration. Maybe that's why James thought the nickname fit Lily so well.

or Bodyguard!James/Celebrity!Lily

Get A Room bt @chierafied

The long-awaited trip to London goes awry when Marlene chooses to spend time with her boyfriend - forcing Lily to share their room with none other than James Potter.

you don't know me (but I know you) by @emeralddoeadeer

Lily has a crush, she knows his face well but can only imagine his name; until they meet that is.

About Time by heartablaze (on ao3)

Before his final year started, James Potter offered to be a resident advisor for a first-year dorm. What he didn’t count on was dealing with a confusing redhead across the hall, hospital visits, hallway parties and writing his thesis the night before it was due. Blimey. (Muggle Uni AU)

Unexpectedly in Love by jamespotters_exgirlfriend (on ao3)

When Lily Evans entered her final year of uni, she certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with James Potter. And well, let’s just say love isn’t the only unexpected thing to come out of their relationship.

Far Post by @eastwindmlk

James Potter and his friends are very serious about their pub football league. So, when the new roster comes out and there is a new team on there, an all women's team, he and Sirius set out to investigate.

You Know How To Ball, I Know Aristotle by @wearingaberetinparis

Now that the global superstar, Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Lily Evans and professional football player James Potter are together, they have to juggle the difficulties of a relationship in the public eye. Fresh off her World Tour, Lily Evans arrives at Wembley Stadium one year after James Potter first attended her show, to perform there for one final weekend before heading to the studio to record her next album. Her boyfriend, in the meantime, is off to Germany to play at the Euros for England. How will they ever make their relationship work when Lily is - so the press loves to imply - the least supportive WAG of the tournament?

sequal to And You Heard About Me (Ooh, We’ve Got Some Big Enemies!)

It's been a long time coming and it did not disappoint

I've recommended Three Swipes, You're Out by @naireides before, but I recently came across it's sequel making spirits bright

Sports star James Potter tries to pick Lily up on tinder. Lily Evans, a dedicated not sports fan is offended by the idea that someone thinks she wouldn't recognize James Potter's face. She laughs about it with her friends at a bar, until James Potter, who also frequents that bar, comes over to clarify that nope, he's on tinder, and he's definitely hitting on her.

...

She should have expected it to be hard, dating a celebrity, but somehow she and James make it work.

[writesleah]

not a chance ౨ৎ m. riddle

౨ৎ mattheo riddle x reader

౨ৎ angst/fluff

౨ৎ you and mattheo are sworn enemies, but everything changes when he becomes your tutor

౨ৎ one sex reference, use of y/n

౨ৎ 1.9k words

౨ৎ this is way longer than i was planning on making it but once i started writing, the words just flowed. this hasn’t been proofread either so i apologise if theres any mistakes that slipped through. i’m also fairly new to writing mattheo, but i’m so obsessed with him right now that i just had to do it for my first published fic!

enemies should never spend time together - that’s just a fact - and mattheo riddle was your worst enemy. you had never met someone more infuriating in your life, someone so incredibly cocky that it made you want to pitch yourself off the astronomy tower. he did all of that for you, and more.

you were in your potions class, watching the hands on the clock tick by every second, every minute, waiting to finally be released from the hell professor snape held you in for a full hour every tuesday and friday.

potions was never really your strong suit, so you knew doing your O.W.L for the class wasn’t going to go so well, but your friends convinced you to go. of course they did.

your eyes darted to the door as you heard it swing open, a boy with curly, brunette hair stalking in.

“you’re late, mr riddle.” snape glared at mattheo, his voice it’s usual stern tone. “forty-five minutes late.”

“sorry, professor. i was helping professor moody with something for defence against the dark arts.” he sneered back, emphasising the fact that mad-eye moody was teaching the class and not snape, who gave him a sharp look before continuing on with his class.

“surprised to see you here.” the familiar voice scoffed as he took a seat on the table next to yours, where all of his friends were conveniently sitting. how pleasant.

“riddle.” you murmured, eyeing him as he took his seat and pulled out his quill.

“awh, greeting me?” he smirked, his head tilting just slightly in a way that was so incredibly frustrating. “did you miss me over the summer?”

you scoffed at the idea, rolling your eyes. “miss you? not so much.”

“ouch. that one hurt, not gonna lie to you.” he laughed to himself, scribbling down the date on the top of his parchment.

“cute.” you spat. you never really bothered to give him full replies, not in the way that he did, unless you felt it was absolutely necessary. “why’d you even turn up? the lesson ends in fifteen minutes.”

“i was going to just skip, but then i remembered my favourite person would be here.” he smiled warmly, though it was laced with that familiar sarcasm you knew all too well.

you give him a small glare, quirking a brow at him. “yeah? who’s that? me?”

“is that a joke?” he scoffed, his expression turning serious as he glared at her. “no, daphne.” he motioned to the girl on his right. you had noticed they had grown closer over the last few weeks of third year, but never really thought much of it. he wasn’t really the type to get into serious relationships, more just little flings or girls he would snog and then never speak to again.

you felt a pang of emotion in your heart, but you weren’t sure why, or what it was. a smirk slowly made its way onto his face as he watched your nose screw up, his brows raising in amusement. “why? you wish it was you?” he laughed again, sarcastically, as always.

“course. whatever will i do now that i know i’m not mattheo riddle’s favourite person?” you scoffed, shaking off the feeling and giving him the glare you always did. why did you care? you didn’t, right?

he gave you a small chuckle in return, before the conversation quickly ended, along with the lesson not so long after.

“miss (y/l/n), mr riddle, please stay seated when everyone else leaves.” snape demanded, causing you to roll your eyes and let out a quiet groan.

when everyone else had left, the professor stalked towards the two of you, eying you both up cautiously before he spoke.

“as you both know, you begin to prepare for your O.W.Ls in fourth year, this year.” he began, the mention of the tests making you want to curl up in a corner and never think again. “given miss (y/l/n)’s frank inability to brew a single potion over the last few years, she will need a tutor to give her any chance of passing the test.”

you screwed your nose up at the slight dig, but continued listening to him nonetheless. “now, mr riddle has proven himself to be quite talented in my class, so he will be your tutor. i trust that i can leave you two here for the hour to begin your first session?”

you groaned loudly, watching a smirk spread on mattheo’s stupid face, but nodded in defeat. “yes, professor.” you mumbled, your head in your hands.

snape swiftly left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“you reckon we can just lie and say we did the hour?” you murmured, your eyes peeking through your fingers to look at the brunette.

he scoffed quietly. “kind as ever.” he retorted, shaking his head. “you might as well do it. we all know you’re hopeless when it comes to potions, so it might do you some good.”

“myeh, kind as ever.” you mimicked, rolling your eyes. “fine. hurry it up, though.”

he moved to sit next to you, beginning to ask you questions to gauge where you were at with your knowledge in potions. of course, you managed to get every question wrong, or do something that put him off.

“you don’t know anything?” he groaned, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “you’re so fucking stupid, merlin. i’ve never met a fourteen year old girl as dumb as you.”

you furrowed your brows, a small pout on your face. “i’m not stupid. it’s the subject. it doesn’t make any sense.”

“i’m going through first year stuff right now. you’re ridiculous if you think you’re going to pass your O.W.L.” he scoffed, waving his hands around frantically as you laid your head on the table, your tongue between your teeth as you held back a snarky comment.

“whatever.” you groaned. “i give up. i’m expecting myself to fail at this point. i know i will. there is no point in us doing this.”

“i mean… you’re probably right, but you should at least try.” he shrugged slightly, his tone still full of annoyance. you watched his fingers brush through his dark curls, your head tilting just slightly as he did so. his brows furrowed as he looked at you, muttering a small “what?”

“why are you so insistent that i stay with you right now?” you blurted, voicing your thoughts before you could take it back.

he didn’t say anything, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you, his eyes tracing your body just long enough for you to notice. you squirmed slightly at the sudden tension between you, shooting him a dirty look.

“stop looking at me like that. it’s weird.” you spat, attempting to shake off his gaze, if that was even possible.

“like what?” his eyes shot back up to yours, his nose scrunching slightly, his smile frown lines more visible than ever.

“like i’m one of the girls you try to snog up in the astronomy tower. stop it.” you had witnessed and interrupted his shameless make out sessions far too many times, the tower being a place you both frequented, though for reasons of the complete opposite. you went there to be alone, he went there to have company.

his hand shifted to your thigh, landing on top of your pleated school skirt the uniform required you to wear, a smirk on his face. “do you want to be?”

your gaze was fixed on his hand, squirming slightly at the sudden contact, though not making any effort to stop it. “uh, no. not really. what the fuck?” you let out a half-laugh as you looked back up at him, seeing his brows furrow slightly. “what? was that not the right answer? want me to get on my knees and beg for you to make out with me under the stars?”

he scoffed to himself, rolling his eyes. “yeah, you’d definitely do that.” he retorted sarcastically, giving you a small glare.

“you have the wrong idea of me.” you shook your head, biting your lower lip just slightly as you felt his thumb move to the hem of your skirt. “what are you doing?”

“showing you how much i want you.” his voice took on a low and serious tone, before crashing his lips into yours. you didn’t move for a moment, before quickly coming to your senses and shoving him off.

“are you high or something?” you looked him up and down, rubbing your lips together in an attempt to make the strange sensation they held go away.

“no. completely sober. i don’t smoke weed.” he laughed quietly, looking at you in amusement. you gave him a small huff, knowing that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth. “was that your first kiss?”

your lips parted in amusement, the tip of your tongue held just between your front teeth. “what?”

“was that your first kiss?” he repeated, his eyes tracing every inch of your face. “because, no offence, but if it wasn’t, you’re a pretty shit kisser. i doubt you have experience.”

you scoffed at his words, shaking your head with a small pout. “no, it wasn’t my first kiss. it was just ‘shit’, as you so elegantly put it, because i didn’t fucking kiss you back, idiot.” you felt the overwhelming urge to spit as many swear words and insults you could muster at him, but held back when you saw the look in his eyes.

“wanna actually kiss me, then?” he huffed, rolling his eyes, before they settled on the pillowy, pink flesh of your lips.

you hesitated for a moment, before leaning in to give him a small kiss. his lips were soft, and the slow motions gave you a better feel of him than the first kiss. it felt safer, more intimate.

the second you went to pull away, he pulled you in closer, the kiss growing slightly more aggressive. you felt the edge of his fingertips slide just slightly under your skirt, going no further than the edge of the hem. the movement was enough for you to pull away, though.

“riddle…” you whispered, your eyes shooting down to his hand. “look, i don’t know what you get up to with half your little girlfriends, but i don’t wanna, like, do anything, so…” you shrugged slightly.

he looked at you with a furrowed brow for a moment, before letting out a small chuckle, which just confused you further. “oh, wait, no.” he shook his head, which tilted as a sly smirk came across his face. he removed his hand from your thigh and let out another short laugh. “i wasn’t trying to- sorry. yeah, no, i’m in the same boat as you. i may get with a lot of girls, but i’m still fourteen at the end of the day. i’m not really doing anything other than make-outs yet.”

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding at his words, a small smile settling on your face. “okay, good. i was panicking a bit there.” you added with a single laugh.

it was silent for a while as you both relished in each other’s company, or rather, didn’t know what else to say.

“so…” you spoke up after a couple minutes, your eyes darting back to his, “do we still hate each other?”ll

he raised his brows in amusement, a small, almost disgusted scoff coming from his mouth.

“not a chance.”

[watatsumiis]

Being A Part of the Sumeru Squad!

I've been thinking a lot recently about being a part of the ‘in’ group in Sumeru - the ones shown to be good friends on screen already (Tighnari, Cyno, Al Haitham and Kaveh!) I feel like there's lots of ways one could slot themselves into the dynamic and it's just very pleasant and fun to think about. 

(Rambles below the cut. Platonic stuff, reader is referred to as ‘you’ and is entirely gender neutral) 

Though the squad is almost constantly making playful little jabs at one another, bickering back and forth and whatnot, they're overall a pretty supportive and kind group and accept you into their midst without too much fuss. 

You soon find yourself invited to a myriad of small, casual get-togethers where the group catches up with one another. It's kind of weirdly formal at first, with so many of them holding such high and important statuses. 

Luckily, Kaveh also ends up feeling pretty left out during these discussions, so you'll have someone to chat with or ask questions when you've lost track of the topic at hand. Plus, he's often got some very funny (and surprisingly astute) commentary to add on, even when the subject is painfully dull. 

Once all the politics are out of the way, the conversation tends to ease right up for a little while. Regardless of whether you're at some restaurant or cafe, or just hanging out at someone's house, there's usually snacks available and things will remain super lighthearted for a bit, all jokes and talks of recently released books or occasional infodumps about hyperfixations and special interests. 

On that subject, whenever the stars align and two or more group members have the same special interest or hyperfixation, hoo boy, you can expect them to monopolise the conversation and somehow always drag it back to whatever niche fascinations that they may have accrued lately. 

If you have something you want to talk about, you can rest assured that at least one person in the room will be able to engage. Everybody has their own collection of equally specific and obscure knowledge - with the occasional kind of hilarious overlap. Kaveh and Cyno’s shared fascination with Fontanian machinery, or Tighnari and Al-Haitham’s in-depth discussions of insectoid languages and their potential overlap with human ones are some of the first to come to mind. 

Of course, disagreements do break out every now and then - but everyone is fairly civil for the most part, if a little bit overdramatic and occasionally loud. It's interesting to see how everyone the group tends to take sides almost as soon as a hint of a possible disagreement rears its head. Al-Haitham once questioned Cyno's sense of humour, querying whether it could really be considered comedy if nobody was laughing, and pretty soon, Tighnari and Kaveh were arguing along as passionately as if they'd been personally insulted. 

You tend to be the tiebreaker more often than not - with such an evenly split group, there often tends to be an even balance between whatever arguments. It doesn't help that Al-Haitham likes to break it all down and give pros and cons for both sides (while still keeping his own stance firm), which may make it impossible for you to decide. 

Luckily, it's easy enough for you to guide the group's attention elsewhere. Just offer to make them some hot drinks or ask if someone wants to play a round of Genius Invocation, and it's like the argument never happened at all. 

It's easy to wind up feeling a little out of place in a group of such highly ranking people, but it's like your friends develop a sixth sense for when you're starting to get a little confused or feeling out of your depth. Instead of poking fun at you (like they do for Kaveh), they'll find a way to rope you into the conversation that doesn't put too much pressure on you. Cyno and Tighnari, especially, seem to have a way of relating things to subjects that are in your area of expertise to help you parse them better so you can find your footing and be debating back and forth with the rest of them. 

Game nights tend to get really intense. It's not a case of if someone will flip their lid, it's simply a case of when. Alliances and subsequent betrayals are all too common, and you'll often find yourself being bribed to help someone one-up another person. 

They even have a ‘trophy’ for winning each week's game night. It's a tiny crown, carved out of wood and painted gold. Collei made it and donated it to the group. Whoever possesses the crown also possesses the ultimate bragging rights until the next gaming night (or until they accidentally sit on it and squash it with their big clumsy butt. Kaveh ). 

Though the group is chaotic, noisy, and constantly teasing one another, they're all so supportive of one another and will stick together through thick and thin. As the conversations slow down, sometimes some pretty serious subjects get brought up, heavy venting and other such similar things. 

Though, they're all very understanding if someone isn't in the correct headspace for that sort of talk, and will happily postpone it or talk about it elsewhere if needed. They're also very used to multiple conversations happening at once, so it's easy enough for someone to dodge around the heavy topics if they need to. 

The squad can be almost violently supportive at times. Sometimes you worry that Cyno may be one hundred percent genuine about abusing his status as the General Mahamatra to threaten somebody who mildly inconvenienced you one time in the market last week. 

Overall, the vibes of the friend group are super fun (if a little intense at times). They may not say it directly, but everyone is super glad to have you around, hanging out with them and getting in on all the goofs they make and shaking up their dynamic a little bit.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or copy - pasted into bot or AI technology.

[italoniponic]

Bat-Hunter | Rook Hunt & Lilia Vanrouge

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lilia found themselves at the start of a legendary battle for the Prefect of Ramshackle's heart. The world of love triangles is awfully quiet after this exchange. Dedicated to @pandoa. You wish and you shall receive <3

Lilia Vanrouge, Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / small scenario / fluff but mostly crack / reference to a specific Phillipines dish / 1525 words / use of “you” pronouns / Masterlist

Bat-Hunter: The Magnificent Showdown!

Few people throughout history — between humans and faes — could say that they had the audacity to directly antagonize the Great General Vanrouge in any sort of battle. And getting out of this sort of risk alive was a bit of luck granted to very few people, almost to none.

“But a coward hunter is not worthy to receive the title, nor to wear a hat.”

That was the Hunt family motto that Rook was so proud to carry in his heart. Such was his respect for his family tradition that this phrase was embroidered on the inside of all his hats so as to never forget his origins.

Well, maybe I’m starting a little too fast and you’re still worrying — from the comfort of Ramshackle’s upstairs window — what the hell the two guys you liked were doing on the ground floor balcony, dressed like that.

Despite everything, you suddenly shrugged to yourself and headed to the kitchen where a more urgent task needed to be fulfilled. When everything was ready, hopefully you could invite the guys in. That is, if you found one or the other intact in the end.

Because that was the feeling that their exchange of glances passed.

Lilia was dressed in his Light Music club “uniform,” as punk rock as your father had been in the eighties when he was young and phones were wired. He held his guitar close to him, as if it were the weapon of his days in the Army of Thorns. He was “total rad” — as the youngsters would say.

His friendly smile only masked the irritation of finding Rook in that place, decked out from head to toe. Usually, his presence was easy to ignore and his curiosity could be quite amusing from time to time.

But he knew the real situation they were in: they were equals in rivalry for the heart of Ramshackle’s Prefect.

Knights in a duel for love!

Rook, in his own instance, wore a pair of belted trousers and a loose white blouse — located in the common vocabulary as a “pirate blouse” — with the strange addition of a large pink coat over his shoulders, sewn by hand and with some patterns of blue rhombuses. With his hat in hand, he looked like a book character.

His expression was equally gentle but it carried a certain pang of defiance, like a hunter who meets another while hunting.

“You look very beauté this afternoon, Monsieur Curiosité!,” Rook praised.

“How did you actually say that time? That my beauty is ‘mysterious’?,” Lilia chuckled, squinting his eyes.

“Oui, oui! But do not fret, Monsieur, today my attention is on someone else.”

“Another one? You can’t get enough of it, can you, Hunt?”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, yes. I’m tired. Tired because I’m wandering for days and nights thinking about the smile of that kind person and how I would like to cheer them up in these times of crisis!”

Crisis? Lilia didn’t quite understand. You seemed to be doing very well during all the times you met. Had he let any detail slip through the cracks?

“What kind of crisis? That is,” he bit his tongue, embarrassed that he had to ask for help from his literal rival. “If I may intrude.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. These are ear crisis! Dear Trickster has been hearing a lot of guitars being scratched lately,” the young huntsman replied, boldly.

Lilia barely broke his guitar cable — or the entire instrument at once in Rook’s head.

It was a mere provocation, no big deal. And Pomefiore’s vice, the way he was, probably appreciated each style of music in its own artistic way. But they were dealing with a battle of epic proportions and every blow counted.

Even if he were to call Lilia’s love-hard-heavy-metal demo “instrument-scratching”. But it was worth it and it showed in the way Rook’s eyes squinted in amusement.

Dealing with Diasomnia’s vice has always been an adventure in itself. That was the best part about being Lilia’s romantic rival.

Regardless of the ending, moments like this would always have a special place in Rook’s heart and he would remember it all with emotion when he went to tell your children — “the Hunt Jrs.” — the trajectory of your love.

“Why are you crying?,” suddenly Lilia inquired, confused.

“You will not be forgotten, Monsieur Curiosité! Forever and ever!,” Rook declared, wiping a tear with the sleeve of his coat. “Your memory will be carried forever in our family!”

At this the fae pulled the hunter by the collar of his shirt, staring directly into his green eyes. It was not necessary to float to come face to face with Rook, Lilia had enough dignity to impose himself the way he wanted.

And, let’s face it, making the boy — a “child” in his eyes — literally reach his level was more convenient too.

“Your particular persona has not yet turned gray to be Malleus’ breakfast because I dare, to the best of my mental faculties, find your audacity mildly amusing,” Lilia said with a grim smile cutting across his face.

“I thank you, monsieur. And I, if I may say so, find the bloody-pink in your eyes extremely beautiful,” Rook retorted, torn between fascination and a certain fear instinct that only made him feel more confident in his goals.

“Who do you think you are, hunter?”

“And who do you think I am, bat?”

That said, the two of them started laughing. Maniacally. They walked away but kept laughing, releasing all the anger and tension that could be felt in the form of simple fun between two colleagues.

Oh, they wanted to duel until death ripped them from each others hands.

Fortunately, you opened the door in time to prevent a bloodbath in your yard — after all, it would be difficult to clean it up.

“Hey, boys!,” you greeted, happy. “Wanna come in? I made pancit canton!”

Then you showed them a plate of fresh noodles, straight out of the pan, in a colorful combination of sliced pork, sausage and shrimp along with chopped carrots, cabbage, peas, onions and garlic. It smelled wonderfully good and matched your good mood. No wonder, it was your favorite food from the Philippines.

The sun was setting and it was close to dinner time. In fact, you were so excited about the process of cooking everything — from blanching vegetables to cutting meats — that the serving size tripled. Maybe being busy tidying the house didn’t help your distraction.

But with Lilia and Rook there — and Grim would be happy with extra food — you felt that little slip was worth doing it.

The smile that opened on your face descended on them like a ray of light in the midst of darkness, poetic as a fairy tale.

The animosity in the air was still palpable, however you were simply happy to have the company of your two crushes at the same time and there are times you need to take advantage of some situations.

“Prefect! I composed a song and I would like you to hear it,” Lilia stepped forward, putting the guitar in position and pulling a bombastic sound from the strings.

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t stop an admiring smile from appearing. Outside that your heart was racing just like the Light Music club speakers after a performance by Lilia. He was so cool!

“And I brought the best collection of poems on my bookshelf to recite, sweet Trickster!,” Rook didn’t lag behind and with one movement of his arm, the coat danced beautifully under his shoulders.

Another shot to the heart! As if that were not enough, the shades of the afternoon horizon harmonized perfectly with Rook’s clothes and made him an otherworldly vision, having escaped from a bedside book just to meet with you.

“You two are going to drive me crazy like this…,” you grumbled to yourself. But you did your best to stay intact.

“I just want you to bear with me 'cause I am only one,” you said. “Let’s have dinner first, okay?”

“All for you, sweet Trickster!,” Rook declared, taking your free hand and kissing it.

“A-ah! Okay?”

“What matters is your wish, Prefect,” Lilia skillfully took the plate of pancit from your other hand and also kissed it.

“B-but your guitar...!” He literally had put the instrument between his legs.

“There’s no time for questioning, magnefique apple of my eyes. Forward, my brave rival!”

“Said and done, hunter!”

You were still confused when they managed to find a way to literally drag you into the house, each holding your arms as if your weight was negligible and the situation completely normal.

It was obvious how Rook and Lilia, even if in different ways, could make you go “head over heels.” 

Well, you avoided reaching that angle when they deposited you on the couch and sat each by your sides. At least the animosity was gone and Lilia’s guitar was more securely propped up on the coffee table.

“Dinner, mes ami?,” Rook suggested. “Then a lyrical duel to the death?”

“A what...?”

“That’s fine for me,” Lilia accepted.

And so they lived happily ever after. At least until after dinner.

🦇🆚️🏹

Special Notes: It’s funny or maybe not how I can get drowned in my own work and never make any progress in months but the moment the inspiration for something strikes me as a lighting, suddenly I can pull off an entire 1525 thing in two nights straight. It’s quite simple and it goes more into comedy territory but it’s a homage for your underrated comedy skills, Pando! I still tried my best to make sure both Rook and Lilia could have their times to shine. I based most of the exchange in Lilia’s R Sports Card personal story with Rook (and just got off from that feeling). Have to say, I love a good unilateral passive-aggressive convo and they delivered <3

Now… any similarities of scenes from certain movies are completely my fault. I’m currently having a Die Hard and Kung Fu Panda brainrot, which is weird but it happened.

[tuiccim]

Wrecked (Part 7)

Pairing: Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, love triangle, excessive drinking, smut, Omegaverse canon possessiveness

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

Standing in the doorway of your bedroom, you stare at the empty spaces that were once filled with Frank’s things. His nightstand held only the lamp. His side of the closet and space in the chest of drawers were empty. In the bathroom, his toothbrush was gone and that was the stupid thing that broke the dam. You let the tears fall as you strip the bed. You had to get his smell out of your sheets or you’d never make it through this. Frank was gone. He was always going to leave. Now, you have to suck it up and deal with it. 

Gathering up the things you would need to see you through proved fairly easy. You kept supplies in stock just in case. You pulled out your favorite comfortable clothes. As you grabbed them out of your dresser, a flash of white caught your eye and you picked up the folded note from Billy. You reread his message and your heart aches. If only his protestations could be true of an Alpha. You don’t think you’ve ever been as attracted to someone in your life. Dropping the note on the top of the dresser, you continue your preparations. Pulling fresh sheets out of the closet, you start to make up your bed but as you move pillows and smooth wrinkles you pick up Frank’s scent with each motion. Your stomach rolls and you throw the pillow in frustration. 

Your mind drifted to the other bedroom and the bed covered in Billy’s scent. A throbbing begins between your legs at the thought of being with him during your heat. Would he be gentle or rough? Would he act feral or reverent? Or would he be a mix off all of it? 

Resolutely, you gather your things and move to the other bedroom. At least having his scent surrounding you would bring you some comfort. You place your things around and throw extra blankets on the bed, building yourself a nest. Laying down, you breathe deeply and feel your inner Omega calm as his scent envelopes you. It’s so strong you could swear he scented the sheets purposely. 

Several hours later, a knock on the front door rouses you from the semi-comfort you had found in the bed. Before you could even manage to untable yourself, Cecily calls out, “Hiya. I used my key. Don’t get up! I brought you some extra supplies.” After a few moments you hear her in the other bedroom, “Where are you?”

“In here,” you call, settling back in. 

Cecily comes through the bathroom between the rooms, “Are you okay? Why are you in here?”

“I… Frank’s scent is on everything in there,” you shrug. 

“Gotcha. Has it started?” she asks, referring to your heat. 

“It’s not too bad yet. I’ll be fine.”

“It smells like Billy in here,” Cecily sniffs. 

You just shrug again, “What did you bring?”

“Oh, I left it on the other bed. Hang on,” she turns back. 

When several minutes pass without her returning, you call out, “Cec? Did you get lost?”

“Uh, no. Coming,” she reappears with a large bag filled with snacks, drinks, and some self-care supplies. 

“This was really nice of you,” you give her a small smile. 

“Well, ya know, I owe you one… or two,” Cecily smirks. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you shake your head. “We both said things we regret.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cecily says as a slow grin spreads across her face.

“Robbie and Jordan?” You ask, propping yourself on your elbows to stare at her. 

“They’re really good guys and they told me about them and, ya know, intrigued me. So, we’re going on a date next week.”

Knowing Cecily is not usually one to take things slowly, you narrow your eyes at her, “Why next week?”

“I wanted to wait until your heat is done. I mean, someone has to run the bar and…”

“And what?”

“It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other a little. Maybe develop something that isn’t just attraction. Forming a pack, I don’t think they’ll care much that my parents are Betas,” Cecily shrugs to play off the vulnerability she had just displayed. 

“I think that's a great idea. If you can handle working together at the bar, you can probably handle a relationship- ow!” You wince as cramps hit you. Your body is protesting the lack of male attention. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Are you okay if I go back to work?” Cecily eyes you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll get through this and see you in a few days. Don’t worry about me,” you insist. 

“I will. I’ll check in on you tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything,” she smiles as she heads to the door. 

“Cec?”

“Yeah?” She looks back to the door. 

“I’m glad we made up.” 

“Well, ya know we can’t live without each other. You’re my person,” Cecily blows a kiss as she leaves. 

You smile but grimace when the cramps hit again. You reached for some pain reliever. It would help some. At least, for a little while. 

–

You woke up the following morning, groggy and grumpy. Sleep had only come the night before after another round of pain relievers and a handful of melatonin gummies. It had been filled with a mix of unsettling dreams and intense yearning that made your body scream for touch. Getting out of the bed, you head straight for the shower. Sometimes letting the water run over your body can give momentary relief. You stood under the spray until the water cooled too much for comfort and your stomach was grumbling for food. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you walk back into the bedroom and nearly scream. 

“Hello Gorgeous,” Billy smirks from the chair in the corner of the room. 

You stare at him for several seconds, bewildered at his appearance but then your inner Omega took over and you crossed the room in only a few strides. You ignore the tray of food and the bouquet of flowers next to him and reach for him. Dragging him to his feet by his shirt, you pull him against you and meld your mouth to his. You begin undoing his belt but his hands cover yours and he breaks the kiss. 

“Should-”

“I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t fuck me right now, I will never let you touch me again,” You seethe. When it looks like he’s about to speak again, you drop the towel you’re wearing. “Now,” the word comes out hard but then you put a sweet pleading into his designation, “Alpha.”

His mouth takes yours hungrily as he pushes you towards the bed. His shirt is discarded quickly, and his pants are undone in a blink. It’s your hands that push them past his ass as he positions himself between your legs. He takes no preamble, knowing your heat is in full swing and you are more than ready. The thick head of his cock breaches your entrance and he growls as you seem to pull him in. Your body arches into him, finally having an Alpha inside of you puts you into a haze and all you can do is beg for more.

“Please, Alpha, more!” You whine. 

“I’m gonna give it all to you, my sweet Omega. Fill you up and fuck you out until you can’t tell where you end and I begin,” Billy says as he steadily presses in. 

“Yes, fuck,” your voice melds into whimpers as he begins long strokes. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pressing him close as he fills you just how you need. Billy holds himself above you on his elbows and his hands reach to caress your face. 

“Look at me, ‘Mega,” he commands and your eyes fly open. “Look at your Alpha. I will always be here for you when you need me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as his hips pick up pace. Your mouth falls open as you feel your orgasm building. Billy watches your face enraptured. He doesn’t relent, pounding into you at just the right angle until you scream, all the pent up frustration and need releasing from you. Your body is wracked with spasm and after spasm as Billy finds his own end. When his knot locks into place inside you he smiles as your eyes roll back in your head and you arch again. He lowers his face to your neck and noses at your mating gland, filling his lungs with your scent. 

His cock jumps inside you when you do the same to him and again when you deliver a tiny kitten lick over it. “Fuuuck,” he groans. 

You pull away when he speaks but his big hand guides you right back. 

“Don’t stop, Gorgeous. Want your scent all over me,” Billy mouths at your gland, fighting his urge to bite down and claim you as his own. But he couldn’t resist scraping his teeth over it to see if it had the same effect it had on you when he did it to you that one night in the living room, and it did. You gasped and clenched around his cock. Encouraged, he did it again and then sucked on it. 

“Oh, oh, fuck, Billy!” Your whole body spasmed again. Your cunt clamped down on his still swollen knot inside you making Billy moan. 

Billy chuckles as he whispers in your ear, “So, when my knot goes down, would you like to do this again or eat and then do this again?”

“Can’t I eat while I sit on your cock?” You whimper. 

“Fuck, I love the way you think,” Billy maneuvers the two of you to the side of the bed and reaches for a cube of watermelon from the tray he had made. Holding it to your lips, he watches as you take the bite and then lick his finger of the remaining juice. He stares at you, admiration clear in his eyes, “How the fuck are you so perfect?”

“I’m not, remember? I’m wrecked,” you shrug. 

“And I’m broken. Guess that’s what makes us so goddamn perfect for each other,” Billy whispers intensely. 

“Maybe so,” you whisper with a small smile. You enjoyed hearing it and decided to just play into it. Play into this feeling that this was someone who wanted you, not despite your inability, but as part of the whole package. He fed you, bite by bite. Compliments and innuendo flowed through your quiet conversation. When you feel his knot release, you take the final bite from him and then flip him onto his back. 

“You haven’t finished your food,” Billy smirks. 

“I’ve had enough for now. I need this more,” you moan as you begin moving your hips. 

“No complaints here,” Billy grabs your hips as he thrusts up into you. He wants to watch your face every second, but gets distracted by the bounce of your tits, the sight of his cock splitting you open, the ways his fingers dig perfectly into your hips and thighs as you ride him, and his mouth runs as he expounds on how amazing you are. “Jesus, you feel good. Do you know how good your pussy looks swallowing my cock? So fucking beautiful. Yeah, that’s it, make that gorgeous face. Wanna see you come, give it to me. Fucking hell, I’m- fuck,shit-” Billy’s eyes suddenly go wide and he grunts harshly. 

You stop, staring at him with wide eyes, “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

“Present,” Billy growls the Alpha command, his eyes darkening.

You comply immediately, lifting off of him and presenting yourself on all fours. You whimper, unsure of what is happening, “Alpha?”

“Mine,” Billy grabs your hips and slams into you making you arch at the pleasure. 

“Billy?” You whine his name as both an exclamation and a question. 

“I’m- fuck, rut kicked in,” he says the words as if it takes all of his control to get them out. His hips don’t slow the steady pounding he’s giving you. “Never… ah, fuck, you feel good. Never been with an Omega in heat before.”

“Were you, ah, were you expecting it?” You ask, curiously. Your fingers dig into the sheets beneath you in an attempt to hold yourself steady for him. 

“No, shouldn’t be happening. Fuck, I’m never gonna be able to stop fucking you. Do you know how good this fucking cunt is? Never gonna find another pussy this good.”

“Alpha,” you whimper as your orgasm builds. You weren’t sure if it was the relentless motion of his cock inside of you or the words that spilled from his mouth. 

“That’s right. I’m your Alpha. Come here,” Billy pulls you up so that you’re kneeling together as he keeps fucking into you. One hand grasps for your breasts and the other finds your clit to make circles. He buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your mating gland, licking, sucking, and scraping it with his teeth. He had to fight the base urge to bite down, to claim you as his, to take possession of what was already his in his mind, but he wanted you to choose it. He wanted you to ask for it. And he wasn’t going to stop fucking you until you did. 

You reach behind yourself to pull his face more firmly against your neck, “Billy! Alpha, it’s so good. I’m gonna-” The long moan you release as you clench around him is enough to send Billy over the edge. He could swear as his knot locked in place again that he saw stars. The pleasure of your body wrapped around his was so intense he had to fight every Alpha urge telling him to hold you down and mark you. Instead, he gently laid you both or your sides and moved his lips to your shoulder to help fight the intense urges coursing through him. 

After your heart stops beating so hard, you whisper, “I’ve never been with an Alpha in rut.” 

Billy’s chest rumbles against your back, “Couple of virgins before today, huh?”

You bark a laugh and cuddle against him more firmly. Billy breathes deeply of your scent as his fingers trail over every inch of your skin he can reach. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand his fucking idiot best friend. How the hell had he managed to keep himself together with you on his cock? He’d never gone into rut the entire time he was here? His friend was insane. Or so self-possessed with rage and revenge, he couldn’t see the perfection right in front of him. Billy’s actually glad his friend led him to you and he sure as hell was never giving you back. Without realizing it, he growls out, “Mine.”

“Possessive, aren’t we?” You tease him.

“Mmm,” Billy shrugs as his lips keep moving over your skin. 

With the haze of heat lifting a bit now that you had been knotted… a few times, the questions that should have flooded your mind seeing him in your cabin came to the surface. You had to ask, “Billy?”

“Yeah, gorgeous?”

“Why are you here? I mean, why did you come back? Did you know-”

“Cecily called me,” Billy cuts you off. 

“What? How?”

“She said she was dropping off some supplies and found my note-”

“That’s what took her so long in the other room,” you say as that piece clicks into place. 

“She told me that you two had made up, Frank had left, and that you needed help. Or more accurately, to get my ass here cause you needed me or she would ensure my life would be a living hell from now on. Not that I needed any convincing. I drove straight here, used the spare key, and laid in wait for you again,” he laughs lightly as he uses the words you had thrown at him his last night at the cabin. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“I’ll always be here for you when you need me,” he assures. “My turn for a question. Why are you in this room and not yours?”

“Frank-” you pause as Billy pulls you more firmly against him and growls at the mention of another Alpha. You smile as you continue, “His scent was everywhere and I didn’t want that smell around me while I was dealing with my heat. So, I came in here since…” you trail off. 

“Since what?” Billy prompts.

“Your scent made me feel comforted. Like I wasn’t completely alone,” you confess quietly. 

He chuckles as he admits, “I guess it was a good thing that I scented these sheets.”

You laugh, “I knew you did that! You are diabolical.” His knot releases and you take the opportunity to turn over and face him. As you looked into the dark depths of his eyes, you lost your train of thought, the questions that had flooded your mind, your worries, all of it faded away and instead you basked in his admiration. He looked at you with a mix of awe and hunger that you had never experienced and you loved it. Your mind wanted to use the word love to describe the feelings coursing through you and you shook your head to rid it of that thought. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You hedge. 

“You jerked your head. Intrusive thought?” His long fingers caress your face. 

“Something like that. Are you hungry?” 

“In more ways than one,” he smirks before whispering in your ear, “I still want to find out how amazing you taste. Get my mouth all over that sweet Omega cunt. I want to drown in your scent. Have you sit on my face and let me tongue fuck you until you beg for my knot. Have your legs spread wide open as I lay between them and make you come over and over again. If I’m really lucky maybe I can get you to suck my cock while you sit on my face. God, there are so many things I want to do to you.”

“Maybe we should start a list,” you giggle. 

“Mmhm, but for now why don’t we go make some food?” Billy kisses you before you can answer and then pulls you out of the bed with him. 

–

The next two days were more of the same. Lots of conversations and even more sex, with meals and showers and sleep in between. Billy, you had learned, had a thing for shower sex and so you were happily enjoying him pounding into you as water streamed over both your bodies. 

“Oh, God, just like that,” you whimper. 

“I have a new item for the list,” Billy says as he lifts your leg higher to give him a deeper angle. 

“It’s going to take us years to finish this list at this point,” you laugh in between the moans he pulled from you. 

“Need to add fucking you in a bathtub. I’d get you to sit on my cock while we relax in a tub full of bubbles. I’d play with your clit so you’d come over and over again so I can feel you clenching around me. Make you come until you were absolutely overstimulated then dry you off, put you in bed, and fuck you one more time until you’re ready to pass out. Fuck, I’m just gonna keep adding to it so I have more excuses to fuck you,” he growls.

“It’s not enough that you’re balls deep in me right now, you have to run your mouth about all the other things you’re going to do to me,” you tease him. 

“Is that a problem, gorgeous? Should I stop telling you about all the ways I want to fuck you?” 

“Never, fuck!” You cry out as he begins pounding harder. 

“That’s right, Omega. You like hearing all the dirty thoughts I have about you. Fuck, all I’ve done is think about ways to fuck you since you served me that first drink. I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. I should. Take you to the bar and fuck you on it, on that pool table, on the safe, fuuuuuck,” he grunted as you clenched around him, nearing you orgasm. 

“You should. Maybe fuck me in that fancy car of yours in the parking lot, too.”

“Oh, yeah? What else should I do to you, my Omega?” Billy’s hips are pumping into you perfectly. 

“Lay me out naked on your desk at Anvil and fuck me until I scream your name,” you whisper in his ear.

“Fuck!” He roars as he begins pounding into you relentlessly. 

“Yes, yes. Alpha!” You cry out as you come.

“Never gonna get enough of you,” Billy groans as he loses himself in you. His knot locks into place and you shudder against him. His face is buried in your neck as he scents you. The urge to bite you, to mark you, to claim you as his own grew stronger each time your sweet body clamped down on his. 

A little while later, you were laying wrapped together and Billy looked at you as if some question was on his mind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You query. 

“I don’t know if I should ask. It might upset you,” he hedges. 

“I can’t promise it won’t but I’ll do my best to answer it.”

Billy takes a long look into your eyes, studying you, before asking, “Why do you stay here?”

“Here as in the town?” You clarify. 

“Yes.”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same thing lately. Buying the bar shoehorned me into a place of… I don’t know the right word. Importance, maybe? It forced the town to see me as something other than the wrecked Omega. I’m the owner of the bar, I have a place in society, even if I did have to buy it. Lately, I’ve wondered what it would be like to go somewhere that I’m not the wreck, not the Omega whose family doesn't even want her. I guess because I’m scared. This place is all I’ve ever known and what if nothing changed?”

“New York is a big city. No one would question why you’d leave small town life for the big city. Especially if you were with me,” Billy comments.

You laugh lightly as you joke, “Are you asking me to move in?”

Billy caresses your jawline as he answers, “Yes.”

You scoff, “Billy-”

“I love you. I know it’s fast and you’re going to say that this is my rut or your heat talking but it’s not. The moment my eyes met yours, the first moment I caught your scent, every second I’ve been near you, I’ve felt it. And every minute after I left, I missed you. To me, you’re perfect and I love you,” he stares into you, waiting for your response.

You look at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was going to laugh and say he was kidding, or roll his eyes and call you stupid for believing him, or you'll wake up because this couldn’t be happening, a perfect Alpha wanting the wrecked Omega.

“Stop it. I see the wheels turning in that beautiful head. I told you that if you’re wrecked, then I’m broken, and that makes us perfect for each other. Do you believe me?” Billy whispers earnestly. 

You nod, scared that if you spoke you’d lose your composure. Instead, you press your lips to his and kiss him slowly. Pouring out all of your emotions into that kiss, you pull him closer. He rolls you under him and deepens the kiss while keeping a sensual pace. He settles easily between your legs and you writhe against each other as passion builds. You open your legs wider until his cock nudges at your entrance. With a gentle motion of his hips, he slips inside and you moan into his mouth. As his strokes build steam, your mouths part for you to cry out on a particularly deep stroke. Billy’s lips wander to your neck and you whimper, “Billy, I love you, too. I love you, my Alpha. Please.” 

“Look at me,” Billy requests. When you do, he kisses you and pulls back to look into your eyes. “Say it again.” 

It was a request, not a command and you complied immediately, “I love you, too.”

Billy kisses you again and then trails his lips to your mating gland. He nuzzles into it and you tilt your head to give him better access. When his teeth graze over it, your breath hitches and you whine, “Please, Alpha!”

“Say the words,” Billy urges without Alpha command in his voice. 

“Mark me. Claim me, please,” you beg.

“That’s my Omega. My Omega,” Billy whispers reverently as he bites down on your gland. 

Your entire body spasms with your orgasm. You pull Billy even tighter against you as he licks away the blood from your mark. He fucks you through the orgasm, his eyes trained on the fresh red claim on your neck as he does. When you come back to yourself, he reminds you, “Your turn, My Omega. Claim your Alpha. Mark me.” 

He guides your lips to his mating gland and tears seep from your eyes with the realization that he wants this as much as you do. You place a soft kiss on the spot and then bare your teeth and bite down. His exclamation and jerk of his hips as he comes inside you makes you clench around him. Just as you feel his knot lock into place, you feel the bond do the same. Emotion floods you as you realize you are feeling his joy and pleasure through your bond. When he pulls back to look into your eyes, you can feel the love you share tie together inside of you. It was unlike anything you had ever imagined and you couldn’t stop the tears that came. 

“I feel it, too,” Billy whispers as he kisses away the tears. “My Omega. My gorgeous Omega.”

Epilogue: Six Months Later

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[turtleybeachin]

Okay I have finally thought of an ask! Not sure if you remember me or not but that's okay. It kinda has to do with the summoning through pacts. I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of an MC who is usually calm, but a MC having a panic attack or is just scared and accidentally summons a brother? I'd like to request all of the brothers or even the dateables but I don't want to ask that much. Do whoever you want with this ask if you do it at all! ❤️❤️

Hi I totally remember you and never forgot this but got way too in my own head about it. I think I crawled back out now. Thanks for being patient with me. ♥ So first of all, I love the concept of accidentally summoning someone to you. Sure, the actual summoning spell is great, but the idea of panic-summoning and maybe not even fully intentionally? Amazing. I started writing how they'd comfort you but got too in my head trying to do everyone (and not feel like i was rehashing Burnout), so I have a few that are spawning future updates to Burnout (for the new side characters), and then some one-offs I'll share as I finish them as well. But! Here are some thoughts I had on alternative summonings when upset.

Characters: Everyone! :) and a GN!MC (reader) Rating: G Word Count: ~2.3k Tagging: references to MC struggling mentally/emotionally, some fluffy affection, mostly a think piece on unintended summoning. Spoiler warnings for OG game, most notably for end of season 2, a bit of season 3, and vaguely part of season 4. Nothing too big, but there nonetheless.

Lucifer's Ring of Light is a perfect fidget piece. Spinning it around your finger, rubbing your thumb along the band, pressing on the edges of the stones to let the dull pinch ground you. It's always there on your finger, always present, always twinkling in the corner of your eye as a reminder you aren't alone. It is not his any longer, but that doesn't mean he isn't still aware of it, that a little piece of him isn't still present in a little piece of its inherent magic. And when you're spinning it and digging it into your palm and distressed, he feels an echo of that pain. It pulls him to you. Perhaps, in your own way, you're admitting you need his presence, his strength, his help, and he is not about to start abandoning his loved ones now.

With Mammon's keychain of that chocolate lizard, your thumb knew all the grooves, the smooth spots and the rough ones, the little spot where paint was chipped away that you knew you shouldn't pick at but it just happened anyway, your nail catching on the rough edge. You fidget with it when anxious because you know Mammon used to fidget with it just the same, and isn't that comforting, to know that even a powerful ancient fallen angel would run his thumb along the very same ridges you do? It's almost like you can still feel the warmth of his touch there. And you can't really think your First Man ain't gonna know you as well as he knows himself, can you? That he doesn't know when you need him, when you're tuggin' on the pact like that?

Leviathan's script he gave you? You've memorized it by now. In times when everything is spiraling, you remember your favorite lines, the ones that remind you to stay strong. You recite them to yourself between shaking breaths. Because when you can't be strong and cool and calm yourself, sometimes it helps to put yourselves in the shoes of Henry, the shoes of the Romantic Lead, the shoes of the characters written to always have a happy ending. It is, you realize, the same way Levi puts himself in the shoes of the Lord of Shadows, wrapping the cool-clever-badass-strong cloak around him as an armor. There's no Lord of Shadows without his Henry, and there's no you without him. And just like how in book six, the Lord of Shadows gets accidentally bound to Henry with a spell and is able to feel when Henry's in need and the Lord of Shadows leaves his lair without knowing where he's really going just knowing that he's needed and he ends up following this magical instinctive pull to find Henry and get to him just in time to save him from his enemies who were-- ...well, let's just say that Levi won't leave you to fight your mind alone for long.

Satan wasn't wrong that cats are perfect for calming the emotional storm inside you. They're good little listeners, and their company is a great distraction from the voices in your head. Watching the little fuzzballs roll around, or nap in a sunbeam, or prowl through the grass, it distracts you from all the frustration and anxiety and worries. Whether it's watching neighborhood cats, or visiting a cafe, or popping into a shelter, you've taken to Satan's favorite hack for handling your wayward emotions. On the really bad days, it's nice to know you can vent and cry to them and they won't judge you or tell anyone your secrets. But did you forget, MC, the stories about cats that traverse the realms? They won't ever tell anyone, but they might wander from you to their favorite place in the Devildom and they might headbutt a certain blond demon's shin and chirp for him to follow them. They are, after all, very good listeners. And so is he.

With Asmodeus, you look at the photos of him on your phone, at your selfies together and how big you smiled beside him. You blink away burning tears to focus on how he looks not at the camera but at you, his body angled not to show his best side (which is every side of course) but to press always closer to you, and how no matter where you two were or what was happening your smiles were always so bright and genuine with him. When everything feels like too much and not worth it and you feel trapped and cornered by situations beyond your control, you find yourself clutching your phone and swiping through hundreds of pictures of laughter and kisses and hugs and twirls and snuggles and you whisper a promise that one day, soon, we'll be together again. Sooner than you expect, of course, because did you really think that he wouldn't feel your burning need for him across realms, hon?

Beelzebub just has to be comfort food, our precious glutton. When life without your demons is getting you down, it's the salty snacks, the sweet treats, the tubs of ice cream with the chunks of something extra to dig for like buried treasure. And whenever you indulge, you can't help but think of your gentle giant and what he'd have to say about everything. He'd be happy you're eating, of course, and then what would he think of your human world snacks? Which makes you think of your favorite Devildom snacks, and that just hits you with a fresh wave of homesickness. But somewhere out there, a realm away, one particular Avatar just gets this feeling, you know? Like the way he knows when Belphie is craving quetzalcoatl brains, or is napping in the garden. Just that instinct. And his instinct is telling him you need your favorite cupcakes. Surely Lucifer will understand how vital it is he takes these three dozen cupcakes to the human world right now. And if he doesn't, well, that argument with his brother can wait until after your craving is satisfied.

Belphegor of course is our star-gazing boy, and while you like the idea of looking into the sky to seek out any possible shared stars to look at with him, you can't always see the stars at night everywhere, and the human realm has day and night cycles that hide them for at least half the day anyhow. For Belphie, you have a pillow from him (that he either gifted or didn't complain about your stealing) that you keep with you -- not for sleeping, but for comfort. A pillow to smother your tears on the rough nights, a pillow to pummel on your frustrated days. A pillow you curl around and snuggle for a memory of contact now distant. And when you drift off in those fitful sleeps of exhaustion, you wander in your dreams to another dream unknowingly. He's with you when you rest, and the moment he can get away from Lucifer's watchful gaze, he'll be there to tug the pillow out of your arms to crawl into your embrace himself.

With Diavolo, well, he knows things. Usually it's because of Barbatos, or Lucifer, or his familiars, but you? MC, you're so much more precious than the 'usual'. If asked by anyone who doesn't know him well enough to call him out, he'd say the charm he placed on you was simply for matters of Devildom security-- after all, you know possibly too much, and that could make you a target to the wrong people! (Barbatos politely does not point out that it's because he misses you so much and wants to see what you're doing.) It's not that he wants to intrude on your life or anything, it's important you have the chance to be as wonderfully human as you are, but he just worries. Are you alright? Are you comfortable? You'd mentioned once the extravagance of the brothers' lifestyle, do you have enough income? The charm is just a minor thing, a little thing, just to make sure you're well. And when you aren't? Well, paperwork and meetings will wait.

With Barbatos, he's just such a badass god-like time lord, we don't even need a pact to be connected to him. You had brought up the idea of a pact once, and he had just given you that dangerous smirk and demurred that it wasn't so much a pact you desired, surely, as his company and his attention, both of which were already yours. It seemed like such a smooth line at the time, but you didn't realize the extent of it. How you're a bright twinkling point on every timeline for him, how you are the center of every universe he knows, how he orients himself in any reality by looking to you. So when something is wrong, when you're falling apart or in danger, it's like the spiderweb crackling of a timeline splitting. Like an itch at the back of his throat, an ache behind his eyes. The choices are to let you suffer alone, or to teleport himself to your side and help you through. Do you even have to wonder which option he chooses?

Simeon may have a complicated relationship with his blessing and his celestial light, with his place and his purpose, but one thing has never felt complicated:  you. Every baked good he ever made for you was made with pure love, and every gift he bestowed -- from a little sheep plush sewn by hand to earrings made from his own feathers -- had all of his hopes and wishes and prayers for you inside them. Maybe that's why squeezing the soft little plush fills you with such warmth and comfort, and why the brush of the feather against your neck feels like a kiss. When you're struggling and upset, the gifts from Simeon make you feel grounded just a little more. And perhaps it's a prayer answered for him, too, that he just has a feeling when it's time to go visit you.

Solomon has been watching out for you longer than you know. It started in the little ways, simple defensive spells and barriers to protect you, reminding demons who looked a little too closely at you who precisely he was and what he could do. It graduated to teaching you to defend yourself, and gifting you various magical trinkets and charms to help focus and direct your growing magics. You still don't really know all the ways that he keeps an eye on you. But he does. Nothing is more important than you. When one of his spells alerts him that you're upset or in distress, well. He just so happened to be in the neighborhood, MC, and what a lucky coincidence that is!

Luke is such a literal perfect little angel baby. One who gave you his blessing, to protect you even when he can't. Everyone teases him for being so young, but he knows that you are the one human he wants to guide and shelter and protect. And sure, when he gave his blessing, it was under the assumption you might need protection from demons or fae, from magic and shadow. But that doesn't mean his blessing doesn't also guide and protect you in times of need that aren't external, MC. When you're at your lowest and feeling completely alone, he feels the pull, feels your pain, and what sort of guardian angel would he be if he left you alone?

Mephistopheles you don't have a pact with (yet?), but imagine your magic ripping open a portal to him without your conscious intent when you're feeling small and lonely and just so badly miss him and want him with you. Maybe you think of him because of the kindness he has shown himself capable of; maybe you think of him because you know he's the least likely person to tell the brothers or anyone else about you having a meltdown. And he's startled and confused when this portal opens before him, the magic somewhat familiar but certainly not demonic, and he warily steps through half-expecting some idiotic prank of one of the brothers only to find you curled up and small and fragile and all of his complaints and questions can wait. After all, clearly you can't even manage your own magic right now, so someone has to keep you from causing trouble.

With Thirteen, it's the little conversation crystal that she gifted you during The Three Worlds' Fair. Perhaps you turned it into a pendant, or perhaps it's just always in your bag or pocket, kept close as a charm for good luck and reminder of the fact you aren't alone. You don't think it would actually work across realms but still hold it tightly and whisper your frustrations or fears or doubts into it just to get things off your chest. But between your magic and hers, it does still connect, and she does hear your outbursts. And at first she just lets it happen, quietly charmed and amused you would use her gift as a secret diary. But when you're really struggling? Well. Reapers are meant to move between realms, you know. There's nowhere she won't go for you.

And Raphael is not an angel to be summoned on the whim of some human. But he is incredibly observant (even if he sometimes doesn't 'read a room' well). He is the one who reads between your lines more than you expected, more than you intended, more perhaps than you want. He sees the tension you hold, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your smiles are just a little slow and empty; he hears the silences where he expects to hear laughter or humming or conversation. And he nearly ignores it, because it's not his business, and you have plenty of other devoted fans already flocking to you, but then he realizes that in those moments you don't. In your pain, you are alone, and that is the most jarring observation of them all. So perhaps it is up to him to correct this cosmic error, and be the one to support the human who supports everyone else.

I hope you still enjoy, even if it's not exactly what you had in mind! ♥ and when i get around to the other little things this spawned, i'll tag you if you'd like.

[saintgoths]

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅᴍᴄ ᴠ

warning - p!links.

♆ this is my nsfw headcanosn and judgement for v from devil may cry; and i honestly think that v might portray himself as someone who doesnt care for sexual desires but once he gets introduced to it, he's somewhat obsessed with the commodity and sense of his body climaxing.

♆ even though his body can get overwhelmed easily, the outcome of the high erotic bliss is what keeps him going, and sometimes you have walked in on him lying on his own pool of cum, his cock twitching from the over stimulation he has granted himself.

♆ he would be upset that you walked in on him at the end, because he would be too tired for you but he would promise that when he feels better he would have rounds with you and once time passes you usually start out with sucking on his dick and trust me when i say he is obsessed with that feeling, holding both sides of your face as he smoothly fucks his cock down your throat his moans somewhat loud but whiny.

♆ he loves eye contact but sometimes he closes his eyes because of how good he is feeling but when he opens those pretty eyes of his, you could see how much he is trying to pull himself back from crying out of pleasure, your mouth just feels so good.

♆ without a doubt, he does love cowgirl, but he does try out other positions like your leg over his shoulder, side position and full nelson, and sometimes he would teasingly blame you for taking his virginity and making him so addicted to your wet cunt; how he sometimes feels compelled to be risky and take you in areas that could get the both of you caught, though there are moments when v would like to do it in a privacy of a home. though there are other moments when he cant wait any longer and would, in his own gracious way, plead to have your sex gripping around him.

♆ there's been many moments you have given in, compelled by his whines and begs of his moans when you ride him behind a large rock, bouncing on his long and curved shaft as he tightly holds onto your body, his eyes rolling back while he greedily bucks his hips upwards to chase his high.

♆ the moment you give him the green flag that he can suck your boobs, he takes his time to worship and explore your body, but once his lips wrap around your nipple, a switch flicks and he there's this random energy phase he has which pushes him to buck his cock deeper inside of your cunt, taking you by surprise which leads you into being a moaning mess.

♆ he is so infatuated and obsessed with your pleasure, that when you introduced cunnilingus to him, he immediately agreed to it, finding his own pleasure and comfort when it came to licking and sucking on your clit, when lapping his tongue against your cunt he would find himself wrapping his slender hand around his size, tightly squeezing his shaft and fucking his hips up as his tongue dips inside your pussy.

♆ your moans high and twisted while you grip his hair and desperately rub your area against his face helping yourself cum. he finds it amusing when you get into that frantic state.

♆ he really likes it when you ride his face, he likes he idea of you sitting on his face and desperately grinding your sex against his tongue, the mere scent of your nectar drives him frenzied that his cock stands tall and sore, yearning for stimulation which he easily gives into, pumping his cock to a climax while he sucks and and licks your bud.

♆ but when he returns by your side, you would see how tired he gets and sometimes he gets annoyed when you look at them with those eyes, but he understands its from goodness of you caring.

♆ he usually falls asleep before you, but you like that and use the time to admire his tattoos.

position reference one

position reference two

position reference three

position reference four

[heich0e]

tags: p.2 to THIS DRABBLE but can be read alone i think, yakuza!suna/escort!reader series masterlist

It took you a long time to learn how to walk in heels.

It didn't come to you naturally like it does for some, the movement instinctively fluid and swanlike and effortlessly simple. You had to practice at it, starting with shorter heels and smaller steps and a slower pace, before eventually working your way up to any degree of grace.

The process wasn't without its failings, to be sure. Not without stumbling or blisters or icepacks that you had to press to your aching feet at the end of a long day. But you got the hang of it eventually, it just took a bit of time.

It feels like a lifetime ago now as your steps click across the marble floor of the lobby with an easy, steady gait. You listen to the rhythmic noise each meeting of your heels make against the tile and remember the girl you were all those years ago, in much shorter heels, with a whole lot less life under her belt.

She'd never be able to walk in these shoes.

Especially not in this place.

The day had started out like any other, showing up to the club in the evening and getting yourself ready in the little room you'd been assigned to for the day. It was neither particularly luxurious nor notably shabby, the same as the rest of the suites that line the hallway at the back of the members only club at which you're employed—each close to any average hotel room, though perhaps a little more sterile. First you showered in the adjoining washroom, and then you changed into the outfit you'd brought with you for that evening. You were just in the process of styling your hair when a knock at the door interrupted you.

Your eyes flashed to the clock hanging on the wall, a little startled—you still had almost 25 minutes to the start of your scheduled shift, so no one ought to be calling on you so soon.

"Come in," you'd called out, though your voice sounded a bit confused.

Your manager's face appeared around the edge of the door once it creaked open, and your confusion only grew.

Kaito has never been someone you like. He isn't far from your age, from what you can tell, but he's a man who errs perpetually on the wrong side of sleazy—what with his over-gelled hair, his tastelessly flashy suits, and his sharp, insincere smile that always has the infallible effect of setting your own teeth on edge.

That day was no different.

"You're out today," Kaito said as you dipped your body in his direction in greeting. You froze, still hunched in your shallow bow.

"What?" you asked him as your head popped up in shock, your tone cold.

You'd checked your schedule at least three times that day. You were sure you'd been on the schedule to start at 7, and the guy manning the front desk had given you the key to this suite when you checked in, so clearly when you'd arrived half an hour prior he'd seen your name there too.

"Change of plans. You were requested." Kaito shot you a particularly implicative look you didn't like, and you cared for the way his gaze slipped down to the dip of your neckline even less. "You've been so popular lately."

"Who called for me?" You questioned him, clearing your throat pointedly as Kaito's canine caught his lower lip in a subtle bite. His eyes flickered up to meet yours after another moment of appreciating your tits.

"Who do you think?" he asked you as his brows lifted tauntingly.

Heat flared in your face at his words, and at the sudden prospects they implied.

"A driver will pick you up in half an hour," Kaito added dismissively before stepping back towards the door to leave.

"Why can't Toma take me to the hotel?" you asked, referring to the club's driver who usually took you to your calls out.

(You're fond of Toma—a quiet man in middle age who always treats you kindly. Just knowing that he'll be there waiting to pick you up at a scheduled time always feels like a quiet reassurance on nights like these.)

"They've been nice enough to send one of their own tonight, and you're not going to the hotel," Kaito paused to explain.

Not going to the hotel?

"Inarizaki has been incredibly good to us, you know." Kaito's voice suddenly lost the affectation of charm that he usually laid on thick. The mere mention of the name was enough to make goosebumps raise along your skin. Still hesitating in the doorway, Kaito glanced over at you—and for a moment you wondered if the look you were seeing behind his eyes was insistence or worry. "Just... be sure to return the favour, yeah?"

You're not sure where you were dropped off by the driver.

It's not that you find yourself in some remote place on the edge of town—you're in the heart of the city's centre, on a street you've travelled a hundred times—the high rise just isn't one that you've ever frequented before. As you step across the threshold, you can't help but think the sumptuous interiors remind you more of a luxury hotel than a complex of condominiums like the sign says outside.

There had been a note waiting for you in the back of the sleek black car that had picked you up at the club, though all that had been written on the piece of paper was an apartment number and a code—which you could only assume was for a door. It's tucked away in your pocket now, out of sight, and you've committed the code to memory.

As your heels click against the marble while you cross the glistering lobby towards the elevators—the tap, tap, tap counting out your pace metronomically—something squirms in the pit of your stomach.

Up on one of the highest floors of the towering building, your fingers shake slightly as you type in the code to the keypad outside the specified door. You pause and fight to steady them after you begin to press the six digits into their corresponding keys—no one likes a girl who's trembling, after all—and after a few breaths you manage to get it right: the light on the upper right hand corner of the automated lock blinks green three times, and you're able to turn the knob of the door.

It's quiet when you step inside, which surprises you.

You half expected to be walking into a party, or an orgy, or the former that would eventually lead to the latter. But instead, you're met with a perfectly still, and pristinely tidy, living space.

You hesitate for a moment as the front door swings closed behind you, processing the shock, and then you bend down to slip your shoes off of your feet. If he wants you to put them back on later, you'll do so without complaint—but for now you don't want to make any presumptions. Next you shuck your thin coat, folding it over your arm, and you tiptoe across the threshold of the genkan—creeping further into the home as quietly as you can.

Your pulse is thrumming under your skin unpleasantly, the unfamiliarity of the place setting you on edge.

"Hello?" you call out weakly in the condo, but you receive no answer back.

You're alone.

Or you seem to be, at least.

You pause in the middle of the expansive living space, next to a long L-shaped sofa in the centre of the room with a square table in front of it. Along one side of the high ceilinged home is a kitchen so sparkling you can't help but think it's never been used. There's a broad dining table with eight chairs poised before a wall of windows not far from you too, with a remarkable view of the city just beyond the glass. Along the opposite side of the space to the kitchen is a set of stairs that passes more windows, leading to a second level that you can't see much of from your place on the first floor, but can only assume is where the bedrooms are found.

The place is gorgeous, you make no effort to deny it. You just don't know where the hell you are.

You rest your hand on the back of the sofa as you stand beside it, and the leather is buttery-soft under your touch. You run your fingers along it to appreciate it for a moment.

"Oh, you're here."

Your eyes snap up to the top of the stairs, in the direction of where you hear the words originate.

Suna stands at the landing of the second floor with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips and a towel around his neck. His hair is wet, seemingly fresh from the shower if the droplets of water clinging to his tattooed neck and chest are anything to go by, and he's got one hand ruffling through it with the edge of his white towel. He peers down at you, his usual secretive little smile on his face.

"Hello, Suna-san," you greet him with a polite little bow.

"I wasn't expecting you here so soon," he remarks, letting his towel drop to rest around his neck again and shuffling towards the staircase's railing. He leans over it, peering down at you. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I only just arrived. Thank you for sending a driver for me," you say quietly, averting your eyes down towards the coat still looped over your arm. You bite the inside of your cheek as you gather up the nerve to say more. "There's really no need for you to go out of your way like that. I'm more than happy to be escorted by the club's—"

Suna clicks his tongue, interrupting you before you can finish your thought. You don't even have time to be frustrated, because his reply is so perplexing. "No can do, unfortunately. This place has to stay just between the two of us."

Your gaze snaps up to him again in surprise, and you catch the way the corner of his mouth curls up more noticeably. Even from the opposite side of the grand room you see the flash of mischief behind his eyes, warm and mirthful. He lets his long arms dangle over the railing, leaning his body further out across it.

"I wouldn't want just anyone knowing where I live, after all."

Your heartbeat is still racing in your throat, but it feels less threatening now—a hum of anticipation singing underneath your skin. You swallow over the knot of your pulse.

"You live here?" you ask him, your voice sounding a little higher than you intend it to—the surprise you feel evident in the tone even in spite of your efforts to conceal it.

He hums, pushing himself back from the railing and descending the staircase at a lazy pace. Once he reaches the last step, and eventually the main floor, that hammering of your pulse kicks up in intensity again.

"What do you think?" he asks, looking around at the home—his home—around you.

You glance around, though you barely register anything you're looking at, too overwhelmed to take anything in. You clear your throat a little before replying, "It's very nice."

Suna tilts his head to the side, a look of quiet confusion on his face as he considers you. He approaches you slowly, his eyes fixed firmly on you all the while.

"You're nervous," he remarks.

He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against the skin of your shoulder—not dissimilarly to the way you'd been appreciating the smooth leather of his sofa a few moments prior. You shiver at the gentle touch.

"I'm not nervous," you say, a lie if you've ever told one. But you shouldn't be nervous. You've been doing this job for too long to get so rattled over a simple change of scenery.

But the change of scenery isn't simple. Nothing about Suna Rintarou is, after all.

It's not lost on you just who the man you stand before is. Just what he does that affords him such a beautiful home. Why it's imperative that the address be kept secret.

Suna Rintarou is a dangerous man, even as he stands at your side running his fingertips along the ridge of your clavicle with the ends of his hair still dripping wet from the shower and hanging in his deceptively sweet eyes.

But it's not his profession that you fear might bring you harm, it's the little smile that shows his teeth which spreads across his face when he catches how you shiver under his touch, and the way it makes your heart knock against your ribs when you see it that scares you more than anything.

"Okay, you're not nervous," he says quietly, but there's a knowing, placating lilt in his low voice. He reaches up and takes your coat from your arms, laying it over the back of the sofa. Next, he catches your wrists in his large hands, his touch slipping slowly along your arms until he uses his hands to guide them up around his neck. You let him move you how he wants to—obliging, just as you were trained to be—and in one easy movement he wraps an arm behind you and hitches you up to his waist.

You cling to him tightly, your lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from his own. The hem of your dress has crept up in the movement, now rucked up around your hips like a belt. You can feel the heat of Suna's skin radiating through the thin lace of your panties where your core is pressed against the firm plane of his lower abdomen, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat when the sensation registers.

Suna groans a little at the soft sound you let out, pulling you even more firmly against him as his mouth descends upon your throat. The hand he's not using to support your weight cradles the crown of your head, tipping it back slightly so your neck is bared to him more openly. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses right over the place when your pulse is beating most violently.

"I planned to give you a tour," he murmurs into your skin, and your fingers tangle in his hair as you feel the brush of his teeth against the sensitive little spot where your throat slopes down into your shoulder. He pulls away, staring up at you with eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "I think it's gonna have to wait."

Suna carries you over to the massive dining room table on the other side of the room, but keeps his mouth pressed to yours all the while, his tongue sliding noisily against your own. Your head is spinning so terribly as you try to match his pace that you hardly even realize what's happening before he lays you down flat against the cool marble tabletop, and you hiss as the stone meets your heat-flooded skin.

Suna pulls away and stares down at you from above, your legs still wrapped around his waist. The weight of his gaze is overwhelming, and you turn your face away as you fight to catch the breath that evades you. The cityscape lit beyond the glass makes you pause for a moment, even prettier from up close than it was on the other side of the room. Suna's hands slip up your thighs, inching towards the delicate waistband of your underwear.

"This view is nice," you comment breathily, and in the faint reflection that you can make out in the window's pane you see Suna glance in its direction only briefly.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, before taking your chin in his hand and tipping your face back up in his direction to kiss you again. You whimper against his lips as you feel his fingertips dip beneath the lace between your legs, and he pulls away from your mouth only far enough so he can mutter a final, rasping "I've seen better."

[helaelaemond]

TIPS FOR WRITING IN AN ENGLISH UNIVERSITY SETTING from someone who’s been through it!

This post is written with fanfic in mind, specifically about Michael Gavey as a Maths student at the University of Oxford.

University structure

At Oxford, you are there typically for three years. You’re not usually referred to as “first year”, “second year” or “third year/final year” as nouns, and are more likely to describe yourself as being “in my first year” etc. The only exception is your first few weeks at uni when you’re known as a fresher. Your first week in your first year is known as “freshers week”, and its lots of social activities around the uni and beyond.

OXFORD IS NOT A CAMPUS UNI. University housing and buildings are scattered around the city of Oxford, and so using terms like “on campus” are not applicable.

Term starts in early October, and most exams are wrapped up by June.

Housing

Oxford is one of four English universities that use the college system (the others being Cambridge - also called ‘The Other Place’ - Durham, and York) and for the sake of simplicity, you can think of this as a replacement term for ‘dorm’ (a term not typically used). You can find a list of all the colleges on the university’s website.

Within the college building, there are usually single rooms with en-suites, but some rooms have to share a communal bathroom.

University students do NOT have roommates - no one shares a bedroom. There are also some room types in a flat-like set up, with a cluster of a few rooms (2-8 typically) and a shared kitchen. This is less common at Oxford.

Students sometimes stay in university-provided accommodation for the duration of their studies, whilst some choose to live in private accommodation from their second year onwards. If they do this, they are still associated with their college, and by default their college does not change. Private accommodation usually means a regular house shared with a few other people - this is standard across all universities in the UK, not just Oxford.

Classes

Generally speaking, subjects that don’t require lab work have a pretty simple weekly structure of one lecture and one seminar per module. Lectures are observed silently, and seminars are for discussions. Even the boldest or more socially unaware individuals do not interrupt lectures (in my four years, I never ever experienced anyone interrupting or asking a question, and so if you’re going to write Michael doing that, be aware it is a huge taboo unless the lecturer has asked for participation). Students usually take 2-3 different modules per semester, and during the academic year, there are two semesters across three terms.

Reading week is a week of usually in late October/early November where there are no classes for a week and it is a time for self-study.

Most modules have at least one assignment (what Americans would call a term paper) due before the Christmas break in December, and then at least one exam after the break ends in January. Some modules on some courses have other assignments or contributors to grades (like group presentations) but this isn’t all that common. It is very rare for things like “extra credit” to be earned, if at all.

Unless reading a combined degree (like Politics and Economics), you only take one subject. There is nothing like a “major” and “minor”. When doing a combined degree, you take half your modules on one degree, and half your modules on the other, so it’s an even 50/50. You cannot choose any subject to do a combined degree for, and they are pre-set courses determined by the university. For example, you couldn’t do a combined degree of Maths and Geography just because you wanted to.

You don’t talk about what course you’re studying, you say what course you’re reading (which is why Michael says he’s “reading Maths” not studying it).

University culture

Nightclubbing isn’t much of a thing in Oxford. If you want a uni with great nightlife you go to Birmingham, Nottingham, Sheffield, Newcastle, London - not Oxford or Cambridge. Instead, students are much more likely to spend time in one of the dozens of pubs in Oxford. College parties (I.e university accommodation parties) don’t tend to be much of a thing either unless they’re organised by the social events committees in those colleges.

Elitism is an enormous problem at Oxford. For example, in 2015, 45% of all freshers were from private schools, while only less than 7% of children in the UK are privately educated. Classism is an issue that is so unbelievably rampant in places like Oxford that I can’t even begin to explain. But like many forms of prejudice in the UK, it’s rarely overt. It comes in the forms of exclusion from social activities (think a working class student not being able to go on a ski trip with course mates), social rules only familiar to the rich being the order of the day (having the right type of suit for a formal dinner).

Oxford is a place where lifelong connections are made that spill into entertainment, business, and (most worryingly) politics, but best believe that if you’re not from the right background, those connections are not yours to make. In fact, the likelihood of you even know they’re going on in the shadows is high.

Obviously, classism and elitism are themes of Saltburn, but please don’t take them too seriously, as it’s crucial to remember that the writer/director grew up in these very private inner circles of elites. As such, her spin is wildly… wild. She’s an incredibly unreliable source for basing any kind of opinion about these issues on.

That’s all I can think of right now! I highly encourage other people who have been through English universities to add on with advice you think you would helpful to writers 😁🫶

And if you’ve got any specific questions, let me know and I’ll help if I can!