#the moment I tried to do anything other than just lie on the couch every cell in my body was like NOPE NAP TIME RIGHT NOW

[agentlizardofowca]

For the fic ask game may I ask for ✄ DVD BONUS for Let's All Assume the Worst please and thank you and please 🙏

- TesIsAMess

Deleted scene for Let's all assume the worst.

Post credit scene with Lawrence, because I am in love with him.

Only cowards hide out in their rooms for more than a few hours. So, after a day of hiding out, Perry ventured back into the house. Making eye contact with anyone (except Phineas) was awkward, because they all looked at him like they knew his darkest secrets now.

Every time someone's eyes trailed to the vague remains of the bruises on his neck, Perry had a strong urge to rub at them.

The boys were in bed, Candace was playing the ducky m(o)mo-rpg in her bedroom, Linda was at after-dark-cooking-class (he still wasn't sure what that meant,) and Lawrence was chilling on the couch, watching whatever movie was playing on channel 5.

It couldn't be awkward between them, Perry would rather die than be awkward around Lawrence. So he pulled up his socks and sank into the couch beside him.

For twenty-three seconds they watched the movie in silence.

"Do you remember, when I said you could tell me everything?" Lawrence asked as he struggled himself into a less skewed position. He was halfway between lying down and leaning on his side. It was amazing because this pose did the impossible: Lawrence was perpetually chinless, but in this pose, he somehow had a double chin anyway.

Perry nodded as he recalled the exact moment Lawrence alluded to.

"And then you signed I can't tell you anything. I'm mute Lawrence, don't be rude." Lawrence grumbled in the deep voice he used to impersonate Perry, as Perry half-assed the same signs just like he'd done all those years ago.

Lawrence turned his head and looked at him with a lopsided smile. "I didn't mean it. Please don't tell me everything."

Perry chuckled a little and stuck his feet under Lawrence's back, just to bully him.

「There is so much you don't know,」 Perry signed with a smile that threatened to tell him more, even if he had no intentions of telling Lawrence about his recreational interests.

"Perry stop now, please."

「I was tied up just a few days ago.」 Not a lie, but context really made a big difference.

"Perry!" Lawrence repeated, this time more desperately.

「Nice and tight,」 Perry signed with snappy movement.

"Perry, please you're killing me."

With the heel of his socked foot, Perry pressed into Lawrence's thigh. 「I'm joking. But. We're both adults, right?」

"We are."

「So it's no big deal.」 Perry hoped this might end it.

"It kinda is when you walk around with a bruise like that."

Perry huffed, resettled so he could look at Lawrence directly, and leaned in close, almost menacingly.

「I did not pretend to be mute and deaf when you started dating again, for you to be this weird about this now.」 And Perry gestured at his neck.

On the other end of the couch, Lawrence was suddenly a little pale and a little sweaty. "You heard us?"

「Sure did Daddy.」

Lawrence groaned and sank into the couch cushions as if wanted them to swallow him as Perry barked out laughter like an elderly hyena.

They didn't hear the front door opening, so they were caught off guard when Linda's voice sounded behind them.

"Now what are you two laughing about?"

They both whipped their heads around in surprise. Perry recovered first, and he climbed up on the backrest of the couch to try and sign, but Lawrence was almost as quick, and he wrapped both hands around Perry's waist and pulled him backwards.

Perry was now unable to sign because his arms were helicoptered wildly to try and stay upright. When he failed, both men tumbled to the floor, where they lay in a giggling heap.

Near the front door, Linda sighed and mumbled "boys will be boys," in a fond voice. She let them be.

On the floor, the two men tried to stop laughing, but every time they made eye contact they started up again.

Eventually, they returned to the couch, had a drink, and fought over the remote.

Perry insisted they watch myth busters, but before the first episode ended he had fallen asleep on Lawrence's shoulder.

Things were no longer awkward.

[gottagobuycheese]

was doing SO GREAT for the last few days and now all of a sudden it’s like all the accumulated sleep debt of my entire life piled into a gigantic frying pan and smashed me in the face. incredible. 0/10. would not recommend.

[spidybaby]

Not the romantic type

Summary: You tried to give him as many chances as you could. But when he keeps choosing other people over you, you are done.

Warnings: asshole!Pedri, cursing, manipulation, gaslight, suggestive moments.

Part two

Since the beginning of your relationship, you noticed that Pedri wasn't the romantic type of boyfriend.

When it comes to planning things or saying things to you, he was very basic.

You remember your first anniversary, he invited you to dinner at his house and you watched a movie.

You appreciate everything. He was very caring. He loved you. He was just not the type to throw out his feelings at you or show them every time.

But you can't lie, that did bother you sometimes.

The memory of you telling him excited about a goal becoming a reality to you, you expected more than just a kiss and a congratulations.

Maybe not a party, maybe nothing crazy, just a little more.

Comparison wasn't also a good thing. The pictures of your friends with their boyfriends on trips, cute picnics, date nights.

You wanted that.

"Hey, I was thinking that now that you have the next two days. We can plan something romantic, maybe?"

He lifts his eyes from his phone. Your shiny eyes are the first thing he sees. Then back to the phone again.

"Olvidé decirte, my parents are coming, and I planned this restaurant thing with Fer and them."

He planned.

"Oh, you did?" You ask. "What about if we go to the movies, it's early and there's this movie I've been dying to see."

"I mean if you want that, let me get my keys and we can go." He says, getting up from the couch and walking to you. "Te quiero"

You smile, you love him very much. Kissing his lips quickly and picking your things while he walked upstairs.

You run quickly to the bathroom, not wanting to miss the movie. While you're there, you check your hair and makeup.

"Preciosa, le dije a Fer, irá con nosotros." He yells while walking downstairs. You force a smile.

"I heard Henry Cavill was on the cast, I'm in." Fer jokes, opening the door for you. "And maybe that Dualipa was also in the cast."

You smile at him, not feeling like joking back. When you sat in the back and didn't even play any music, Fer notice that something was wrong.

"You okay?" Fer asked, the two of you are waiting for Pedri. You nod, not wanting to say anything.

When Pedri was out of his car, you offered your hand to him. He high five you, letting your hand go. You squint your eyes.

"I was thinking." You say as you see the movie display. "I want to see Anyone but you." You smile.

"What about Aquaman? I like aquaman," He says, also looking at the display. "And maybe Fer won't like that movie you want to see."

"Well, I already see Aquaman. And I've been wanting to see this movie for about three weeks now."

He turns to where Fer is. He was buying the popcorn and soda. "He won't like that, amor."

"It's Sydney Sweeney. He will be too busy looking at her boobs instead of the movie itself."

You were tired. This was supposed to be a couple's thing and not a bring your brother with you kind of thing.

"Let's do this. What if you see the movie and Fer and I see Aquaman." He offers.

You want to smack him with your purse. Did he really think this was a good idea?

"Why can Fer see the movie alone, and you see this one with me?" You lower your tone, trying to show him your discomfort.

The thinking was getting to you. Why did he have to think between watching a movie with you or without you?

"Bebé, you know I've been waiting for you to have time to come with me to this movie."

"I just don't want Fernando to see a movie alone."

"Oh, but I have to?"

He sighs. Not wanting to start a fight. "No. Let's watch Anyone but you." He kisses your hand and walks to the front to buy the tickets.

You can even say that you're happy. You don't want to fight or beg for him to do something with you.

You were in the middle of Fer and him. The conversation between them was easy. You feel like it's been a while since you had such an easy conversation with him.

The sour aftertaste of the small argument made you uncomfortable.

"I'm going to get an ICEE drink. I'll be back." You say, getting up, feeling like you can finally breathe.

You don't like feeling this way. You don't like the guilt that builds inside of you every time you feel jealous about him planning something for everyone else but you.

You waited for your drink, checking instagram to distract yourself. The first picture you see is your friend and her boyfriend cooking together.

You don't feel well about it.

You don't want to be the second option.

You want to be the person he plans outings with.

You want him to be as interested in your life as you're in his.

You understand, he's a footballer, he doesn't have time to do all these dates, and plans.

But he does.

He has time for Ferran and Gavi, and he has time for his teammates' parties and celebrations.

He just didn't have time for you.

"Just in time, the movie is about to start." Pedri lift the arm thing on the seat and pass his arm around your shoulders. "My love." He kisses your cheeks.

You can't help the sadness inside. With so little you're so ready to forgive the things that make you feel bad.

"Love you." You kiss his lips.

You love the way he smiles into the kiss. It makes you feel dreamy.

The movie was awesome. in the end, even Fer was happy about it and loved the unwritten song.

"But I definitely think she was the hottest of them all." Fer says, you are walking back to the car.

"That's why she's the star of the movie." You laugh at him.

Pedri was quiet. That was his new mood.

You turn your face to him. His eyes are glued to the pavement. "Pepi, did you like the movie?" You ask. He just nods, not even a single word answer. "Okay."

The drive was silent but not an uncomfortable one. Fer was playing his music, something nice.

Pedri drops Fer at their house, telling him that he was driving you home and then coming back.

You stayed at the back, you feel like joking with him. "So, Mister driver, where to now?"

He laughs, you love his laugh. "I was thinking maybe I can take you for a walk." He extended his arm to the back. "Does the beach sounds good?"

You nod excited, your hands caressing his own while he drives you to the beach.

The moon and the stars were shining so much, leaving a nice and peaceful glow on the sand.

"Oye, I mentioned that I was inviting my parents to this thing and I was wondering if you want to come." He says, pulling away from your hug.

You smile at the proposal. You wanted to spend more time with him, and his family being there was a plus since you're close to them.

You nod, hugging him back again. Your face on his neck, the smell of his perfume making you drunk in love.

"Can you wear that beautiful blue dress?" His hands are now on your ass, pulling you closer. "I love it when you wear that dress."

"The one that ended on the floor after you won LaLiga?" You mess with him, kissing his neck.

The feeling of his beard against your lips, the way his throat vibrates with every moan and sound he makes when you kiss his sensitive areas.

"Preciosa, we're at the beach." He says, pulling away from your kisses. "But we're inside your car." You say, kissing his nose. He smirks, making you sit properly on top of him.

In a quick motion, he reached the door and slammed it shut, making sure to lock the doors.

"Come here." His lips meet your lips in a very hungry kiss.

The way your tongues dance together is making the burning sensation of your body even harder to control.

His hands undo the buttons of your shirt while your lips are kissing his neck. With every kiss, you lick the place. Marking him without actually marking him.

He pulls your shirt to your elbows and kisses from your right shoulder to your neck. He can't have a visible love mark, but you do.

So he takes the time to suck onto that specific place on your neck, your hands gripping on his hair softly.

You began moving your hips slowly in circles, his groaning making you smile, knowing you're doing a good job.

"We need to stop. We're at the beach." He breathlessly says, hands on your waist, guiding the movement. His head is thrown back into the seat.

You want to feel him all the way. You crave him, but you know that if someone recognizes the car and finds you two doing that, it was going to be a big thing.

You fall on his chest. He opens his arms to you, hugging your body and caressing your back. His lips on your hair, trying to calm himself in the process. Once you're calmer, you move to your seat, legs still on his lap.

"Te prometo que voy a compensate por esto, te quiero." He says, kissing your lips and turning the car. (I promise I'm making up to you, I love you.)

The drive to your home was silent. The calm music from the radio was low but enough to make the vibe more relaxing.

One of his hands was managing the wheel, and the other one was squishing your thighs. You can't keep your eyes away from his face, he notice this, blushing a little.

When you're outside your house, you stay inside the car for a little "We're leaving at five, but mom probably wants to steal you from me a little, so what if you get ready at my place?"

You kiss his cheek, undoing your seatbelt. "Si, can you pick me up?" You wait for his answer, getting a kiss from him and a small nod.

"Te quiero." He says, kissing you again.

"You do?" You tease him. He follows you lead, nodding his head. "Won't you show me how much? I mean, you don't have to wake up early tomorrow."

He laughs, turning the car off and undoing his seatbelt. "I have to pick my parents but we can do that together." He grabs your face and places a kiss on your cheek.

🍃🍃🍃

"Dale, guacha, suelta," you sing the famous quevedo Bzrp session while you both cook something.

"Suelta," Pedri sings, doing the background voice.

"Vente pa' Canaria' sin el equipaje y sin viaje de vuelta por la isla te vo'a dar una vuelta."

"Bebé, solo avisa-" His singing got interrupted by his phone ringing and making the music stop. "Hola?"

You lower the speaker volume, knowing that as soon as he hits hang, the song will blast. "Try this." You whisper, spoon feeding him with a little mix of your food.

He gives you the thumbs up, stealing a little more with his finger. "Hey, stop." You laugh, slapping this hand away.

"No, que va, muchas felicidades y suerte en el partido de este viernes." (Nah, no problem, congratulations and good luck on this Friday's match) he laughs. You focus on the food in front of you but can't help to wonder who he's on the phone with. "Vale, adiós."

"Listo." You turn the stove off and turn to him, opening your arms for him to join you in a hug. "Bring some plates, ojitos lindos." You kiss his nose.

He does as he's told, helping you with serving the food and trying to make it look cute. "I was speaking with Aitana." He says, leaving the plate in front of you.

"The player?" You wonder, even tho you were sure it was her cause there's not many girls out there called aitana that your boyfriend knows, and that has a match to play.

"Yes, she won an award, and I forgot to congratulate her for her Ballon d'or, so I sent her some flowers."

"Oh."

You're not jealous. It's very sweet of him to support the feminine team as much as his teammates. It's just that he has those sweet gifts and congratulations for everyone except for you.

"Si, she was so happy."

You nod, smiling. You can't help the feeling of sadness washing you over. Has he ever given you flowers? No, he hasn't.

"Also, Adrian graduation is this weekend. My aunt is throwing him a party, and you, beautiful lady, are coming with me."

"That means you and I are matching colors for the party?" You ask, joking. He never liked the matching couple thing.

"Amor, that's so tacky." He shakes his head no. "Plus, you always wear vibrant colors, and I'm more of a black and white kind of dude lately. "

You just smile, knowing that he always says the same thing. "I can wear something black so you can match me with a black shirt."

"But you look amazing with vibrant colors, like that blue dress, or you beautiful orange top that you wore on my birthday."

It was no surprise to you that he always found excuses for you, even when you tried to accommodate to him.

"Okay, I just thought it would be cute."

"You would be cuter with something that is your style." He taps your nose, changing the topic quickly. "Do you want to see the last chapter of prison break with me?"

"Are you on the last? We were like half the show a few days ago."

"I've been free lately."

You agree, in the end, you were only watching the show for him, so the last chapter meant that you were done with the show.

While he enjoys his show, you search for a nice outfit, you wanted something simple but not that simple to look too lazy.

You find something cute on Zara, planning to go to the mall on your way home. After all the party was in three days and you always prepared at the last minute so a quick change of plans was nice.

"Amor, I think I'm leaving, I still have to study for this test." You move from your position on the couch, now being on top of him. "Te quiero, our food was yummy and the show was good."

"I thought you were staying." He pouts. Arms around you. "Stay"

"Pedri, I've been here since yesterday."

"One more night." He beg, kissing your temple. "Just one."

"If I say yes, I'm not studying for my test."

"I'll help you study. We can go pick your notes." His kisses go from your temple to your cheek. "Por favor."

You fight the urge to say yes. Knowing that you actually have a test coming up and you really need to pick up your books and study for it.

"I'll see you tomorrow after practice." You remove yourself from his arms. Turning to kiss him goodbye. "Come home to me after practice, and I'll make you some healthy salmon."

He smiles, kisses your hands, and gets up to go with you to your car. "Drive safe and please text me when you're home, okay?" He kisses your lips one last time and close your car door.

You wave him goodbye and turn the radio, passing to the Dunkin Donuts drive thru for your favorite drink. You wanted to keep looking for an outfit.

Pedro's family are simple people. They prefer company than material things, something you loved. You wanted to be pretty for Pedro and also look good but not like the center of attention.

You search different stores for the outfit, finding something you consider perfect to wear, it was simple but pretty.

You also find a shirt for Pedri, something black and plain but with a simple quote. Very him.

When you're home you text him, sending him a picture of your books in your desk. Telling him that you will be off line and to call you if he needs anything.

He replied with a picture of him and Fer playing something, asking you to not stress out and to take breaks here and there.

The rest of the week you chose to stay low-key with the communication. Your test went extra well on Friday. You were happy and excited about the weekend because you needed the distraction.

You woke up and started yo get ready, taking a well-deserved full shower, taking your time. You wanted to feel extra clean cause it was a hot day.

When you're out you turn on a movie while getting ready, deciding to do something with your hair instead of letting it down.

When you're almost done with everything, you decide to do something very light with makeup. You don't want to feel gross if you sweat.

Your makeup session is interrupted by your phone, Pedri's name can be read on the screen.

"Hola amor." You say, keep applying some powder to your face. "Are you almost here?"

"About that, I wanted to tell you something."

"Yes, tell me"

"I was thinking, since you're busy with your exams and working on the project. I don't want to be a distraction, and I invite Ferran to the party."

You pause what you're doing to stare at your phone screen. Was he for real?

"Wait, what?" You snorted, thinking maybe he's joking. "C'mon, be serious. Don't play like that."

"Amor, I'm not." He says, serious tone. "I just don't want to bother your study session."

You let the brush fall, placing your hands to your face to try to calm yourself down. "Pedro." You say, voice tired. "What are you even on?"

He just stays quiet. He's not even considering that maybe he could have asked you before taking that decision.

"He pasado toda la mañana arreglandome, para que tú ahora vengas a decirme que tú piensas que es mejor que no vaya, dejándome saber cinco putos minutos antes de la hora en la que me pensabas recoger." You say, low and angry voice. (I've been all morning getting ready, for you to tell me that you thought it would help me to not go, letting me know five fucking minutes before you're supposed to picked me up.)

"I didn't think you would mind it that much."

"Pedro!"

"Okay, I mean, I can ask Adrian if you can come, I don't think he'd say no."

"You told everybody but me that I wasn't coming?" You can't even feel any more anger, just disappointment. "Pedro, that's so not okay for you to do to me."

"Can you not exaggerate?" He asks frustrated, he obviously doesn't care as much as you do. "It's not like you don't have to study. If something, I'm helping you here."

You hang up the call, not feeling like talking to him anymore. You can feel the tears in your eyes.

You don't want to cry but here you are, tears rolling down your cheeks. He didn't care about your opinion, he doesn't care about all the time you spend getting ready or anything you ever do.

You hear your phone ringing again, his name on the screen. Declining his call. You take your makeup remover wipes, cleaning your face.

You undo your hair and change into your pajamas. Not feeling like doing anything you throw yourself in bed.

After fifteen minutes you hear your front door getting opened, you lift your head from your pillow.

Your door is next, and a frowny Pedri walks into your room. "Get up, we're leaving." He's mad, you can tell.

Why was he mad when you're the one who got left out?

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Ferran and you can have a nice day. Go." You turn your back to him, throwing the blanket over your head.

"Y/n, I don't have time to play. Plus, you're not even ready. Stop the drama." He takes the blanket off your body in a movement.

"I was ready, but then you called me and told me that you prefer to take Ferran cause I was busy, so keep thinking that and go."

"Why are you acting this way? Are you on your period or something?"

You scuff, mad at his stupid sexist joke. "Why are you." You point at him. "Acting this way? Can't you see that I'm hurt by what you did?"

He rolls his eyes, you feel hurt by his action. He definitely doesn't care. "You don't even care." You cry. "Pedro, It took me a lot of time to get ready, I went out and bought a nice outfit and did all of this to look good for you and you treat me like I'm your booty call or worse."

"Is it about the money?" He asks exasperated, he pull out his wallet, throwing a few hundreds on the bed. "There, so you can be done with whatever this is."

You're speechless, not sure if you're dreaming or if he actually just did that.

"This isn't about money. This is about you not caring about me or how I'm feeling." You throw a pillow at him. "Get out, have a lot of fun and forget we even had this conversation."

You get up from bed, pushing him to the side and hiding in the bathroom. You cry as soon as the front door slams shut.

You thought that he would come to his senses later on the day, but when the night came and there was no text or calls from him, you were more mad than before.

The next day, he did call, and he texted you. But you were mad, you don't like how he treats you like you're nothing.

A few days pass by like that, you don't answer any of his calls, focusing on your studies like he wanted you to.

"So you're still not in speaking terms?" Your friend asks. "He hasn't even reach?"

"He tried." You sigh, he did try to reach to you, but you didn't answer any calls. "I'm just not ready to forgive him."

Your friend understood that you didn't want to talk too much about it, changing topics to something different she told you about her recent trip.

You spend all evening with her, dropping her home you went back to your house. You were in a blue mood.

The last fight left you with a sour aftertaste, it took him days to realize that he fucked up.

When the anger pass you understood that you weren't going to give in as easy as before.

You notice the black Porsche parked in front of your house. You opened the garage door and parked the car.

The doorbell rings, making you sigh. Were you giving him the benefit of the doubt?

"Hey." You whisper. Opening the door to find him. "Do you need something?" You block the entrance with your arm.

"Can we talk, please?"

"About? You ask , prentending to be confused. You wanted him to admit that he did wrong, you wanted him to see that you weren't going to allowed him to be like that again.

"Amor, can I come in?" He take a step closer.

"Oh, I'm your "amor" now?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. "I thought that I was just Y/n."

"Please." He begged. You can tell he hasn't had the best week, those bags under his eyes. "I don't want you to be mad at me."

"Why would I be mad?" You pretend confusion again. "I was just dramatic and probably on my period, remember?"

He brings one hand to his face. He's embarrassed by his actions. He wasn't like that to anyone, shouldn't be with you.

"I bought this for you." He hands you the bag of your favorite food place. You hesitate to take it, not wanting he to see this as a peace acceptance. "It's your favorite."

You take it, putting the bag away in the little table inside your house and next to your door. "Thank you." You whisper. "If that's all, you can leave."

You were about to close the door. Not wanting to deal with his lack of words. But his foot doesn't allow it.

"Amor, please, I just want to apologize. Let me."

You sigh, opening the door and moving for him to walk inside. "Five minutes, I'm counting." You say checking your watch.

"I'm fucking sorry, the way I talked to you was fucking wrong, and you're right, I shouldn't just do something without you knowing or deciding first." He tries to get closer, you lift a hand for him to stop. "Amor, I'm fucking sorry, I was an asshole. You're not a booty call. You're my girlfriend, and I didn't give you the respect you deserve."

"Why did you do that?" You ask, wanting for him to explain himself. "You treated me like my time and opinion didn't matter, that hurted."

He feels his heart breaking at the sight of your sad eyes, he fucked up real bad. "Mi amor, perdón." He walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you. "I do care about your opinion and your feelings. Your time is as valuable as mine. I'm sorry I was a fucking asshole."

"I just don't get why would you do that to me." You whisper, head buried in the crock of his neck. "You treat me like I'm not important."

"You're very important to me." He tightened his hug. Kissing your shoulder.

You hate to give in so easily, you hate to feel like you will take anything to keep your relationship.

But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be the one forgiving you if that was the case. He wouldn't be the one opening your door. And you know it.

"Let me make it up to you. Let's watch your favorite movies and I can go get your favorite drink to make it up." You nod, closing the door with your feet and walking hand in hand to your room.

🍃🍃🍃

"Now add some salt, but try it to see if a little is enough of if you need more." Rosy says, passing you the salt and helping you with the mixing of the food.

Rosy was teaching you how to do some typical Tenerife food. You once tried it and you loved it.

You enjoy cooking with her and with Fer, both taught you a lot, making you a better cook.

"Well I kinda eat with a lot of salt, so will you help me with trying it." You grab a spoon, taking a bit of the food and passing it to her to try it.

She nods, giving you a thumbs up and turning the stove down. "Perfect" she smiles.

You help wash the dishes and put away the rest of the ingredients. You were having a fun day with his family while he was in Napoli.

Your family was in Madrid spending the last days of a festival. You were invited to go but wanted to stay in Barcelona due to study.

"Fer, you have a new competition." Rosy says, proud of you for learning so quickly. "because this, mijo." she points at her plate of food. "it's amazing, and she was only following instructions."

Fer compliment your food, telling you that you did an amazing job, he was on his second serving.

"I'm impressed that you didn't want to go with Pedri to Napoli, I think some of the girlfriends of the players are going." Rosy confess.

You notice how Fer started coughing, and changing the topic. You had this twisted feeling in your stomach.

You want to say you weren't invited, but you don't want to bring Rosy into that. Maybe she heard the wrong thing and Pedro couldn't invite you.

"Fer, you'll be the one washing the dishes. Don't think I don't remember that." Rosy says, leaving Fer and you alone.

He knows his mom fucked up by saying the wrong thing, but he can't actually blame her.

"Are you taking the rest home?" He's feeling awkward. "I can put it away for you." You shake your head no.

"I actually have to go back home, I've been here bothering you two since early today." You don't even feel comfortable anymore.

Were you overthinking?

"You don't bother us, we love you."

Was he being honest? Or just saying that to fix things?

You smile, not wanting to engage in the conversation, but he did notice that, he can sense the change in you.

"Do you need help or should I get going?" You collect your things, putting everything on your bag.

"No, don't worry. Be careful on your way home."

Waving him goodbye and asking him to say goodbye to his mom for you was all you did.

You knew some of the players invited their partners, like Sara, Mikky, and Katrine; but you thought that maybe they were the ones who planned the trip.

You chose to play potato and stayed in bed the rest of the day, watching some romcoms and texting your family on your group chat.

Fer texted him, informing him about what his mom said to you. He immediately pick his phone to call you.

You were interrupted by the FaceTime call. "Hola, guapa." He smiles, his beard was making him look more mature. "Were you busy?"

"Noup, just watching TV."

You were serious, putting the phone in your nightstand so you could keep watching your movie.

He told you about everything he did, you only hummed in response to what he's saying. He was nervous, he noticed the way you're not even interested in hearing about his day. "What are you watching?"

"Just go with it." You sigh, wanting to hang up and not have to pretend you're not kinda mad. "It's almost done."

He nods, even when your eyes are not on him. "Sara says hi."

You scuff, he definitely had a nerve. "If you see her again, tell her I say hi." You grab your phone, ready to say goodbye. "Si sabes que no tienes que fingir que no me estas llamando por lo que dijo tu madre?" (You know you don't have to pretend that you're not calling me because of what your mother said?) You left out a bitter laugh.

He knew you were not the most direct person, that's why he never expected you to be this direct about the topic. "Guapa, listen."

"You don't have to invite me, just don't tell other people you did and that I said no. That made it awkward for me and for your brother even."

"Can you not do this?" He sighs mad. "I forgot and when mom asked me about it I just lied."

"I'm not doing anything, I'm just saying that it was awkward for me, that's all." You were calm, much calmer than he thought.

"I just want to talk. Can we pass this?"

This was a pattern. He promised to change, pretend for a while, and then go back to his old self.

"I don't feel like talking to you right now."

"Joder, this is why I don't say shit. You just want to always be the center of attention, such a bother."

You stop breathing. That was so unnecessary of him to say. Specially when he was the one who fucked things up.

"If I am a bother, then why are you with me?" You can feel that pain in your heart, pain that has been with you since this attitude started.

"Sometimes I ask myself that."

"Pedro." You whisper, hurt by his words.

Just hung up the call, block him and don't go back. But it was easier to think than to actually do it.

"You want full attention and I can't, I'm not a nine to five kind of guy, I have a much harder job."

"Pedro." You try to interrupt him.

"And fuck, my friends are right, I'm missing a lot because I chose to lock myself down with a serious relationship, you don't even support me."

"I don't what?" You ask loud. "I support you more than your stupid brain actually acknowledges." It's your turn to be mad, leaving the feeling of pain being replaced by anger.

"Don't call me stupid."

"I know you're working very hard on growing your career, I've always accepted for you to give me the crumbs of your time, I'm the one making and effort to keep whatever this shitty relationship turned into."

"Oh, so we now have a shitty relationship?"

"You just called me a bother, Pedro." You remind him his own words. "At this point, I think it is better for both of us to admit that you can't give me what I need, and I'm not what you'll ever need."

"What exactly do you need?" He yells, you're not surprised by that. "I'm trying, I really am."

"No, you're not." You cut him off. "I don't want to keep this going on."

"No, amor, let's calm down. This is blowing out of proportion.- "

You let him talk. You let him pretend he didn't just tell you he questioned himself about you two. You let him excuse his friends about telling him how wrong is for him to he in a relationship.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, Pedro. I don't want to be a bother to you anymore." You try not to cry. "I don't want to keep you away from fun with other girls like your friends say."

"Amor, that's not.-"

"I don't want to be your last option. I don't want to be in a relationship with you anymore." You're breaking your own heart, but you need this more than you care to accept. "I'm letting you be free to have all the fun in the world, to have all the girls, to not have to overthink every night about how much of a bother you have in life."

"Y/n, please no."

"Good luck on your game tomorrow. You're going to be amazing. Te quiero." You cry, hanging up the phone, you quickly turn it off.

Taking your necklace with his initial on it and letting it rest next to you on your nightstand. You were finally done.

🍃🍃🍃

🏷: miss @gadriezmannsgirl ✨️

[cryptidghostgirl]

This is gunna sound confusing and Idk if you do him or not but could you do a Vox x reader where they have been dating for a while and Vox realizes that they havnt kissed yet and whenever he has tried or tries she turns away with a nervous laugh and says something to distract him and he finds out it's because she is nervous that she will mess up his screen like smudge it or break it (like when you touch a tv and the light warps because the screen moves slightly and if you do it to hard it can stay that way)

A/N i am actually obsessed with this idea. it is so cute and fluffy. it was so fun to write. Also, I know I said that part four of Cover Up was next in line but that part is gonna be NSFW and I am kinda nervous about it so....

Smudge (Vox x Gn!Partner!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort (but you're the one comforting Vox mostly)

Word Count: 1,255

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Vox had known Y/n for nearly a year now and they had been together for just over five months. At first, he had assumed their resistance to have any physical contact outside of the holding of hands, the occasional hug or cuddle in front of the TV, was out of a desire to take things slow.

He looked over at where they sat beside him on the couch, his arm draped over the back of the sofa.

That he could understand. What he didn't understand was how slow taking it slow really meant. More than five months in and they had yet to have their first kiss. Y/n had never even so much as given him a peck on the cheek. Vox was a patient man but it didn't stop him from trying, he leaned in. Just as his lips were about to make contact with the side of their head -- not even their face! -- he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder.

Y/n had stopped him, again. Their eyes met his. They hadn't even given him the dignity of a gentle hand on his cheek, of anything other than an apologetic smile.

"I need to shower, my hair is greasy."

Vox was a confident man. In his position, it was hard not to be. Still, the whole situation was beginning to weigh on him. Y/n must have noticed as the smile slipped from their face, morphing their features into an expression of mild concern.

"Vox, hunny, are you okay?"

"I..."

He withdrew from the warmth of their touch, fixing his gaze back on the TV. It was unfamiliar territory. He had never had trouble getting people before, he had no idea how to act. In every past experience, he hadn't cared what disregarding such a request as to not kiss a prospective partner, or real partner even, could do. The care was what made things complicated.

Vox was not a good man. He had never been a good man, not even when alive. Y/n made him want to be one. The way they saw him... they didn't want him for his power, his influence, his money. They wanted him for him. It was obvious. In every lingering touch, every word, every home cooked meal or surprise outing. It was all so new, so different. They made Vox want to be the man they thought him to be.

"It's nothing."

Y/n was silent for a moment. He could feel their eyes on him but did not dare to return their quizzical stare. It was all so fragile, their relationship, even Y/n themself. He heard them sigh and felt their weight shift on the couch beside him. The TV clicked off. At last, he met their gaze once more.

"I don't like it when you lie to me." they hummed softly, turning to face him fully, pulling their knees up onto the couch, "What's going on?"

Vox grimaced.

"It's... please, Y/n. Don't worry about it. Everything is okay, I promise."

Y/n raised their eyebrows, cocking their head to one side. They could tell he was lying. Somehow, they always could. From the moment he met them, Vox had the uncanny feeling Y/n could see right through his facade, to the very essence of his being. It was a fear, it was a thrill, it was a delight, it was...

Vox sighed, his eyes finding his hands where they rested in his lap. He wasn't used to feeling small, to feeling weak. He did now.

"It's stupid."

"If it is bothering you this much, it's not stupid Voxy."

The dam broke.

"Why wont you kiss me?"

His voice came out smaller than he'd meant it too, more frail then he thought it was possible of being. Y/n said nothing in response and tentatively, Vox looked back over to them. Their lips were slightly parted, their eyes met his. Y/n blushed and looked away.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Vox sighed, leaning back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, "I told you, don't worry about it."

"No, Vox. It... clearly its upsetting you, let's talk about it."

"So, why wont you?" he prompted after a moment.

He watched them out of the corner of his eye, noting the way their eyes flicked nervously around the room, the way they fiddled with their interlaced fingers. A tremor in his diaphragm, his heart fell.

"If you don't..." Vox took a deep breath, "if you d-"

"It's not that I don't love you." Y/n interrupted, still refusing to meet his sidelong glance with their own eyes, "It's... I want to be with you Vox, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me for Christ's sake it's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's... stupid."

They looked up at him, the hint of a smile on their face, their brow furrowed. Vox straightened himself. If they were going to repeat his words, he could repeat theirs too. He took their hands into his, facing fear head on.

"If it's bothering you that much, it can't be stupid or... or whatever it was you said..."

Y/n let out a slight laugh.

"Okay fine, but you have to promise not to laugh, okay?"

"I promise."

They watched him for a moment, appraising the validity of his statement, before nodding their head once.

"Isn't it going to... I don't know... what if I crack your screen?"

Vox's eyes went wide. He couldn't help himself, he laughed. Y/n pulled their hands from his, hitting his arm playfully.

"Hey! You promised."

"I know!" Vox struggled to catch his breath, "It's just... thats what you've been worried about this whole time?"

"Uh... yeah?"

Finally, Vox managed to calm himself, looking over at Y/n happily.

"What."

"Come here."

He patted his lap. Y/n looked doubtfully between his hand and his face.

"Come here." Vox said again.

They rolled their eyes, standing up and taking a few steps towards Vox before sitting down.

"Other way."

They shot him a look over their shoulder. Vox rolled his eyes.

"Please."

"Why?"

"Just... trust me."

After a moments thought, Y/n readjusted their position, now straddling their boyfriend. They placed their hands on his shoulders, keeping their balance. Vox reached a hand up to their face, cupping their cheek gently. Y/n leaned into the gesture as if on instinct, their cheeks flushing pink once they realized what they had done. Vox chuckled.

"Y/n, can I kiss you?"

"What if I smudge your glass? Or like, leave one of those weird imprints or something on your face? I-"

He cut them off mid worry, pressing his lips softly to theirs. It was not a long kiss or a very deep one but it sent shivers down Y/n's spine, sparks to Vox's fingers. Their eyes met, Y/n was breathless.

"Not so bad, was it?"

Y/n leaned forward, balling their hands into the unbuttoned collar of his shirt as they kissed him again.

"No." they hummed, "Not bad at all."

Vox laughed. Running a hand through their hair, he pressed a soft kiss to their forehead. He couldn't stop smiling.

"I'm alright."

"I was right though."

Vox's brow furrowed and Y/n grinned up at him, raising their hand to his face.

"I did smudge you."

------

TAGS

@matrixbearer2024 @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @peterpankat @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa

[bellaxgiornata]

Stop, Just Breathe

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Matt returns home from work, he finds you on the verge of a panic attack and quickly tries to calm you back down.

Warnings/tags: panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff & a soft Matty, Matt POV

Word Count: 3k

a/n: Just a short one shot I wrote when I was craving some Matt comfort myself. I thought it might be interesting to read this all from Matt's POV, too. Feedback is always appreciated!

From the moment Matt first stepped into the apartment, closing the door after himself and hanging his cane on the hook nearby, he could already hear the tension in your body. Something was wrong. Your teeth were grinding back and forth together, a grating, gnawing noise in his ears from a frustrated gesture you probably weren't even aware that you were doing. Though to him, the aggravated noise hit him the second he'd focused on where you were in the kitchen.

Matt slipped off his dress shoes before bending down and picking them up, taking three steps to his left and then placing them underneath the bench that resided against the wall. Straightening back up, he could hear the harsh and irritated way you'd just set what he presumed was a cutting board and a knife onto the kitchen counter, the sound practically reverberating in his skull. 

His concern for you rising, Matt gradually began to make his way down the length of the entryway hall, undoing the knot of his tie around his neck as he went. With every step he took he heard the uneven beating of your heart in your chest as you opened the refrigerator and retrieved a few things from inside of a drawer. He could instantly tell that your heart wasn't beating the usual steady rhythm he was used to hearing when he’d returned home from work, but rather something erratic and worrying to his ears. 

Brows drawing together in further concern, Matt removed the glasses from his face with one hand, his other dragging along the back of the couch to orient himself as he made his way through the living room and towards the kitchen. You were currently focused on beginning dinner preparations, placing what smelled like broccoli, bell peppers, zucchini, and onion onto the counter. As he neared, you made no sign that you'd even noticed he was home yet. That only further worried Matt because it meant you were deep in your head right now–and he knew how you could get sometimes. 

"Sweetheart? Everything alright?" Matt asked, carefully breaking the silence.  

You startled at his voice, your body jumping half an inch as you were taken off guard by the sound of it. He heard the air shift as your head rose up, darting directly towards him. Your reaction only confirmed what he'd suspected, that you'd been too far in your head and hadn't even realized he was home.

"I’m fine, Matty,” you said almost mechanically.

The lie registered in Matt’s ears easily; the sound of your heart even further beating irregularly as you’d said it was impossible for him to miss. Pressing his lips firmly together, his eyes narrowed as he focused closer on your body. Your blood pressure was rising and he could taste the increase in adrenaline and cortisol radiating off of you on his tongue. 

"I just–just had a bad day at work," you quickly added.

Your voice sounded off to his ears. Higher than usual with a bit of a tremble to it, which seemed like it was coming from something more than just nerves. Though what you'd said hadn't registered as a lie this time. But you must have noticed he was observing you and you were clearly trying to shake him off and get him to stop reading you so carefully. You always did that when something was really wrong. 

"You're not fine, I can hear your body," he replied gently. "What's going on?"

You inhaled a shaky breath, holding it for only a moment before roughly expelling it through your nose. The erratic pounding of your heart hadn't calmed as he continued to monitor it; if anything it was starting to become even more concerning with the rate each stutter of it was climbing. Though the moment he picked up on the sound of one of your fingers tapping like a nervous fidget along the countertop, all the little warning signs your body was sending off suddenly became clear to Matt.

Everything your body was doing right now was exactly what it did right before you had a panic attack. 

With that realization dawning on Matt, he knew he needed to shift his focus. It didn’t matter what you were upset about right now, he'd find out what was wrong later. Right now all he wanted was to calm you down before you spiraled into a panic attack.

"I said I'm fine, Matt," you snapped. 

Ignoring the warning edge to your tone, Matt made his way into the kitchen and over towards you, aware of the way your head was tracking his movements with each of his cautious steps. When he neared you, he placed his glasses onto the counter before he reached a hand out, lightly grabbing your elbow and drawing your fidgeting hand from off of it. Slowly, he  turned you towards himself, noticing how you didn’t fight the movement. Your heart, on the other hand, was beating ever faster and your breath was quickly becoming shallower.

"Sweetheart," Matt began calmly, "it sounds like you're on the verge of a panic attack. Why don't you come sit with me on the couch? Try to calm down?"

"I need to make dinner, Matt," you replied, your words picking up speed as you continued, that panicked tremble returning to them. "I don't have time to sit on the couch. There's a lot of vegetables I need to cut up and sauté and that chicken still needs to be seasoned and cooked. If you’re planning to go out tonight I need it finished so you actually have time to eat because I know you’ll just skip dinner otherwise and you’re always skipping dinner. You need to eat . And then I need to–"

"Hey, hey, stop," Matt hushed you, both of his hands landing on your shoulders and gently squeezing them as he cut you off. "Stop, just breathe. Take a breath, sweetheart. Your heart is beating alarmingly fast. Relax."

The scent of salty tears met Matt’s nose a second later, just as he realized you were blinking rapidly. You were tearing up and about to start crying. The frown on his face deepened, the corner of his mouth twitching. He could feel the uncomfortable prickle beginning in his own eyes.

Matt absolutely hated watching you go through these episodes. The fact that his heightened senses could pick up on everything you were experiencing–every little thing that was happening in your body–only pained him further. All he could do was offer you comfort and try to help you take calming breaths, nothing more. He always felt helpless and he absolutely hated it.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice breaking on the words. "Sorry you–you have to deal with me like this all the time and that I'm not normal and that–"

"Stop, breathe," he repeated gently, squeezing your shoulders again. "Let's go sit down."

One hand gently grasping your elbow again, Matt slowly led you out of the kitchen and towards the living room, right over to the leather couch. He could tell you weren't calming down as you made your way there, though. He could hear your heart still racing and the way your blood was rushing through your veins. If anything your breathing was becoming sharper and your muscles were beginning to tighten. He could feel the tension through the light touch he still had on your elbow as he lowered the both of you to sit down. Though Matt tried his best to push away the chaotic sounds of your body that were screaming at him so he could focus on helping you right now.

"Take a breath with me, sweetheart," Matt urged.

He demonstrated inhaling a deep breath in, holding it and listening to the way you'd taken one shortly after him. You'd only managed a half-breath though, and the shuddering sound of it hadn't escaped Matt’s notice, nor had he missed the way your left hand had yet again begun repeatedly tapping on the cushion beside you like a nervous tick. Slowly expelling the breath he'd taken, he listened to you following after him, lightly blowing out the breath through your nose. 

"Good, that's good, sweetheart," he encouraged, his hand sliding across the space on the couch until he grasped your own fidgeting one. Entwining his fingers with yours he said, "Let’s take another deep breath, okay?"

He heard the way you nodded in response and he sent you a smile, your fingers curling tighter around his hand before you inhaled again, this time managing to fill your lungs further. The smile grew wider on Matt's face as he took another deep breath in sync with you. If he could get you to take full, calming breaths, he knew he could help you circumvent a full blown panic attack. He'd learned from past experience that when you began hyperventilating, it was too late to avoid and you would both have to ride it out until your body could calm back down. And Matt hated that just as much as you did, but at least tonight it appeared that you might manage to avoid it. And that was a win.

Matt spent a few more minutes just breathing with you on the couch before he finally heard your body gradually begin to relax beside him. A weight felt like it had slowly lifted off of his shoulders the moment your heart began consistently beating its usual steady pattern in his ears. Even your breath had returned to a normal and even sound, your muscles easing as the tension slipped from out of them.

But he could still taste the faint and fresh salt of your tears in the air and that had a frown returning to his face. 

"I'm sorry, Matt," you eventually whispered. 

Matt’s face twisted into a look of confusion. He was unsure why your voice had sounded so sad and so small and why you'd apologized to him yet again. 

"For what, sweetheart?" he asked.

"For being like this," you said quietly.

Your voice was still so soft when you’d answered, and the hint of shame in it instantly registered in his ears. Something sharp twisted in his chest, and when you continued, Matt could feel his own eyes watering again.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me and my anxiety," you whispered, a faint tremble still in your voice. "Sorry that you have to deal with me and my panic attacks like this. I know how hard they are for you with your senses. And I–I try to hide them from you because I feel like I’m just torturing you every time. And I hate that you’re left trying to help me through them. I wish I wasn’t like this. Wish that I could be someone better than that for you. Someone without–without all these issues.”

Matt’s left hand darted forward, his thumb catching the tear he’d heard about to roll its way down your cheek. Gently the pad of his thumb wiped it away from your skin, which he noticed still felt warm and flushed beneath his finger. You sniffled, the sound louder to his ears than it really was. Trying to swallow the thick lump forming in his throat, Matt’s hand tenderly cupped your cheek, his thumb still trying to catch the stray tears slipping out of your eye. 

“Don’t–don’t you dare apologize for that. I love you for exactly who you are,” he told you earnestly. “That’s why I married you, sweetheart.” He shook his head, a small smile curling up the corners of his lips. “We’re a team, you and I. Right? You’ve always been there whenever I needed you. Always . And there’s–” he paused, chuckling a little to himself, “–there’s been plenty of times where I’ve needed you, too. For a multitude of reasons. Usually ones involving patching me up and cleaning up the mess of blood around here. And I know how much you worry over me because of it, and I always worry that it’ll push you away, but you always tell me that–”

“I’ll never walk out on you, Matty,” you finished for him. “Because I love you for exactly who you are.”

Matt smiled as he nodded enthusiastically in response. “Exactly,” he replied. “And I love you for exactly who you are, sweetheart. The nerves and all. We help each other out. That’s what we’ve always done. And I’ll always be here for you, too. So please stop trying to hide your stress and your anxiety from me, alright? The only reason why I don’t like when you have panic attacks is because I hate seeing you hurting and not being able to punch someone and fix everything.”

You laughed lightly, the sweet sound causing Matt’s heart to flutter happily in his chest. He could hear the way your mouth was pulling into a smile already. You were feeling a little better because of him. That always gave him a sense of pride knowing that he could have such a positive impact on someone who was so good and loving and attentive as you. 

"You understand me?" he asked. "That's the only reason, sweetheart."

He heard the way the air around you shifted as you nodded. 

“Good," he said with an air of finality. "How are you feeling at the moment?”

You scoffed at his question, the sarcastic noise causing a grin to slip onto his mouth. You were certainly feeling better.

“You can read my body, Matt,” you stated flatly. “I think you have your answer.”

“Well I can’t read your mind,” he countered cheekily.

You expelled a soft sigh before nodding slowly, running a hand across your forehead. “Yeah, I’m–I’m feeling better,” you answered, the faint smile apparent in your voice.

“Good,” he said. “Do you want me to give you some space or–”

“No,” you immediately answered, your heart jumping in your chest briefly as you shook your head, your hand tightening around his at the question. “No, I don’t.”

On occasion he knew you liked to have a few minutes to collect yourself after moments like these. Usually he could feel you working through what felt like embarrassment when he left you alone, most likely because of how you’d broken down in front of him even though he'd often and repeatedly assured you that there was no reason for you to feel that way. But other times you desperately craved his physical comfort, and it seemed like that's exactly what you needed right now.

“Come here then,” he whispered.

Releasing his hold on your hand, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and began to pull you in towards him. Eagerly you closed the small space between the pair of you on the couch, scooting closer to him before encircling your own arms around his waist, your hands resting lightly on the middle of his back. Matt’s eyelids lowered when you buried your face into his chest, hearing you inhale another deep breath. You were most likely trying to take in his scent, just like he was doing right now with his chin resting atop your head. Mutually finding comfort in each other, the thought growing his smile.

“I need to make dinner,” you murmured into his chest.

“Don’t worry about it. We can make that for dinner tomorrow,” Matt told you. “We can just order pizza tonight. Stay in and have the night together.”

“But I thought you were going out tonight?” you asked. 

Matt hummed out a noise of disagreement, lightly shaking his head. “No,” he replied. “Not tonight.”

“But–but isn’t Daredevil needed in Hell’s Kitchen?” you questioned next.

Matt’s arms tightened further around you, holding you even closer to him. The sound of your relaxed and steady heartbeat in his ears was comforting, and so was that warm and slightly floral scent that always seemed to linger around you as it filled his nose.

“He is,” Matt agreed. “He’s needed right here. With you.”

Your fingers fisted the fabric of his dress shirt, tightly balling it into your hands. He could feel the way your arms had tightened around him, pressing yourself closer to the front of him.

"Can I marry you again?" you asked softly, voice muffled against his chest.

Matt chuckled lightly, his heart feeling so full at your question. He heard the small smile that slipped onto your lips yet again, his own arms pulling you just a bit closer to himself. 

"I think that's what vow renewals are for," he pointed out in amusement.

"Maybe we should do one of those," you mused, fingers still firmly curled around his shirt.

"Sweetheart," Matt said with another chuckle, "we haven't even been married for a year yet. I think that's a bit too soon for a vow renewal."

You turned your head, resting your cheek against his chest now and making yourself more comfortable. Matt inhaled the scent of you once more, his eyes still closed as he relaxed against you. He loved these quiet moments with you, content just to be next to you. It always had him feeling at peace and he often hoped you felt the same.

"Well, I'd marry you all over again if I could," you told him, the words drawing forth a warmth throughout Matt’s entire body that only you could ever seem to fill him with. "Every single day."

Matt shifted above you, lowering his head until he could place his lips against the top of yours. He heard the corner of your lips curl even higher the longer his mouth lingered in your hair. Gradually he pulled away only to bury his nose into your hair next, grateful for whatever had brought you into his life all that time ago.

"So would I, sweetheart," he murmured softly. "So would I."

[missuga]

1:05 a.m. — Bakugo Katsuki

+ established relationship, living together

“Are you serious?” You huffed under your breath, rolling over slightly to look at your boyfriend who was currently using every blanket on the bed. Before both of you fell asleep, each blanket was perfectly draped the two of you, but now just the bottom half of your legs were covered. 

You tried your best to pull some of the blankets away from Bakugo without having to sit up but for no reason he had an iron grip on them. 

“You’re kidding me.” Groaning you pushed off the bed to sit up, pulling the blankets with both of your hands now hoping they’d give some at least. “Katsuki, stop hogging the blankets.”

“Go back to sleep.” His voice was low and you barely caught what he said. 

“I would love to but I can’t.” You pulled on the blankets once more but it didn’t work. “C’mon, I’m freezing and you’re the one who said using all these blankets was a dumb idea.” 

All he gave in response was a mumbled bunch of words that you couldn’t understand at all. You were getting tired of fighting for even a bit more of a blanket really quickly and even though you didn’t have to work in the morning you had wanted to get a good night's rest. 

“Oh my god whatever, keep the stupid blankets.” You sighed and let go of them, pushing yourself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sleeping on the couch.” 

You didn’t get the chance to even stand from the bed before he reached out and grabbed your arm. 

“No you’re staying here.” Bakugo was turned towards you now, one arm stretched across your side of the bed to stop you from leaving, and the other reaching to fix the blankets. 

“Oh, you’re going to be nice now?” You stared at him for a moment before he pulled you back into your bed fully. 

“I’m always nice.” He sounded so sleepy that even if you had wanted to argue with what he said, you couldn’t find the words to. “If you hadn’t kept the room so damn cold, you wouldn’t need all of these.” 

“That’s the best way to sleep in the winter.” You countered, remembering how he had said he’d be too warm with the amount of blankets and that he wouldn’t be using them. “Though, I thought you said you didn’t need them. Change your mind?” 

“Nope, I’m still sweating buckets.” 

You just managed to see him roll his eyes from the small bit of light drifting in through your windows, the smile pricking up the corner of his lips gave away his lie. 

“Mhm, right.” Settling back under the blankets you felt relieved that you weren’t going to have to sleep on the hard couch. “If you steal the blankets again you’re making breakfast in the morning.” 

“I was already planning to make breakfast.” He responded and you could hear the slight twinge of amusement in his voice. 

“I can’t stand you.” 

“Good.” He moved closer to you once you were fully settled, draping an arm across your waist and laying a good bit of his body on top of yours. “Oh my god, do not touch me with your cold ass feet.” 

You couldn't stop the laugh bubbling from your chest at his recoil when he felt your feet against his legs.

“You laid on me!” You protested, still laughing at his reaction. “They’re only this cold because you left me to freeze with no covers.”

“I thought we decided we were over that.” 

“We didn’t decide anything!” You rolled your eyes at how ridiculous he sounded. “Go to sleep, you’re becoming delirious.” 

“Only because you woke me up.” Bakugo mumbled, his warm breath against your neck sent small shivers down your back. 

“That’s because you woke me up.” You sighed softly, bringing a hand up to run through his hair almost as a reflex, enjoying how he snuggled against you even more at the feeling.

“Hmm, I don’t recall that.” His voice was so soft now and you knew he was just almost asleep again. 

“Night, Katsuki.” You said even quieter than him, knowing you weren’t too far behind now that you were a lot warmer than before. Tomorrow night you’d have to make sure you had a spare blanket just for yourself if he decided he needed all of them on the bed again. 

[thegettingbyp2]

I love drama and protective Austin so how about one where Vanessa is hating on musical theater actress & being jealous & shady & Austin sticks up for you & calls her out.

8 Times a Week

A/N: So sorry it's taken so long but it felt so GOOD to sit and write again!

Join my Patreon here

Donate £1 to my Book Fund here

The moment you heard the front door close, you were quickly wiping your eyes and shoving your phone between the couch cushions. Jumping up, you checked in the mirror to make sure that there was no mascara running down your cheeks and you gave yourself a watery smile before turning to greet your boyfriend in the hallway.

‘You’re back!’ you exclaimed, running over to him and practically throwing yourself into his arms, partly because there was nothing you needed more right now than to be wrapped up in him but mostly due to the fact you hadn’t seen him for three weeks while he was away filming and you’d missed him more than anything.

‘I’m back,’ Austin sighed happily as he held you against him, burying his head in your neck and breathing in the smell of your shampoo, a smell he’d missed for the past three weeks. Pulling back slightly, Austin’s came up to cup your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss that made up for all the kisses he’d missed whilst he’d been away. You let yourself relax into the kiss, focusing on nothing but the man in front of you and wanting nothing more than to order take-out and curl up on the sofa, watching movies with him. ‘You okay?’ he asked when he broke the kiss, noticing how your eyes were slightly red and puffy from where you’d been crying moments before he walked through the front door.

‘I’m fine,’ you replied quickly, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘I just missed you.’

‘Baby, what’s wrong?’ he asked, stepping even closer to you and running the back of his hand against your warm cheek, the cool sensation of his hand on your skin causing your eyes to flutter closed briefly. ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘No, I haven’t.’ You laughed, trying prove to him that nothing was wrong. But this was Austin and he knew you better than you knew yourself.

‘Please don’t lie to me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong and we can fix it.’

You sighed gently, knowing that Austin wasn’t going to let it go until you told him what was wrong. ‘It’s just some people on Instagram and Twitter posting some not too nice things about me.’

‘What do you mean “about you”?’ he asked, his tone growing dangerously calm as his eyes darkened slightly.

‘Just posting a video from the other night where I tripped onstage at work and making comments about how if I was actually good at my job, then things like that wouldn’t happen and that you deserve to be with someone who’s as talented as you.’ You spoke quickly and quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear, but he heard every single word.

‘That’s ridiculous!’ he exclaimed, pulling you into him and tilting your head up to make you look at him. ‘Baby, you don’t need to listen to any of that, okay? You’re incredible! I could never do what you do.’

‘You did do it,’ you said, laughter colouring your voice slightly.

‘No. I did a play. You do musicals, with all the singing and dancing, I could never do that over and over again,’ he insisted. ‘Show me the comments.’

‘No,’ you were quick to reply.

‘Why not?’

‘Because you made me feel better about the whole thing! I’m not even upset about it anymore!’ you tried to reason with him but the raised eyebrow you got in response only proved to you that it didn’t work.

‘I know that’s what you were looking at just now, show me and we can get rid of them yeah?’ he spoke gently, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone as you sighed, nodding gently before taking his hand in yours and pulling him with you into the living room.

‘Just…promise me you won’t get mad when you see who the comments are from, okay?’ Austin gave you a questioning look but nodded nonetheless, wanting nothing more than to make you feel better.

Once the two of you were seated on the sofa, you reached between the cushions to retrieve your phone before unlocking it and handing it to him. You knew the exact moment he’d seen who had wrote the comments because his entire body went still and you could’ve sworn that you felt the temperature in the room drop a couple of degrees.

‘You promised you wouldn’t get mad,’ you reminded him after a couple of moments of silence.

‘That was before you told me it was Vanessa making these comments about you. She has no right talking about you at all, it was fine when she was making comments when I was doing Elvis press because I’d not long broken up with her but to come for you?! I’m not putting up with it and you shouldn’t too.’ He gave you your phone back before pulling his own phone from his pocket and opening up twitter.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked warily when you saw him pull up a photo the two of you had taken on your opening night of your latest show.

‘Sticking up for my girl,’ he replied simply, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close while he began to type with his free hand:

The woman in this photo is the most talented woman I have ever met and I’m lucky enough that she saw something in me that made me want to give her a chance. She’s stuck by me through everything and I’ll be damned if I don’t do the same for her. This woman goes onstage in front of thousands of people 8 times a week and performs for them. So what if she trips over every now and then, the beauty of what she does is that it’s different every time and that she’s fucking amazing at it. And for anyone who has a different opinion, that’s fine but please, keep it to yourself. She has more talent in her little finger than most, Vanessa.

He clicked send and you couldn’t help the shocked gasp escape your lips when you saw that he’d actually called Vanessa out. ‘Austin, you can’t do that!’

‘I can! She needs to know that she’s not getting away with anything like this, (Y/N), I’m not going to come home to you crying over something that’s not true, know who it was that made you cry and not do anything about it. I love you so much and I hate seeing you upset, so I’m going to do something about it when it happens.’

You sat in a stunned silence for a couple of seconds, feeling like a weight had crashed into you as you realised just how much the man sitting next to you loved you. ‘I love you too,’ you whispered, your eyes tearing up again as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

A lopsided grin worked its way onto Austin’s lips as he looked at you. ‘How about I go get changed while you order food and we’ll spend the rest of the night on the sofa, how’s that sound?’

‘That sounds like something I’ve been waiting for for the past three weeks.’

[pinkkittysaw]

GOT MILK?

pairing: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: when jill offers to look after your daughter for a few days, clive indulges in a secret fantasy

word count: 4.6k

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be BLOCKED!) established relationship, you & clive have a child, pregnancy mention, minor body insecurity, oral (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, breast/nipple play, spit, praise, dirty talk, cursing, petnames (sweetheart, love, darling, etc.)

a/n: um…..blinks

dividers by @/cafekitsune

Three months. Three long, arduous months. It's been three months since you've been given a proper break.

You loved your daughter more than anything in this world, probably more than life itself. She's as cute as can be, never failing to tug on you and Clive's heartstrings whenever she laughs and giggles.

Clive thinks she takes after you, despite her having his inky hair and light eyes, whereas you believe she's more like him, obviously.

"She may have my features, but she acts more like you."

"You both make the exact same face sometimes, I swear," he chortles, sauntering over to plant a kiss on your cheek. "She has your cute pout, your adorable smile, and even your bratty attitude when she's grumpy, but that's neither here nor there," he jests. You feign offense and playfully swat his chest in rebuttal, "I most certainly do not have a bratty attitude."

"Sure, darling," he smirks, giving your cheek a quick pinch before heading off into the other room. Despite Clive's teasing, your daughter is actually quite well-behaved, or rather as well-behaved as one can be at six months old. can be.

You can't lie; raising a child, even one as sweet as your baby girl, is exhausting. Both you and Clive have been run ragged.

He stayed by your side during the first few months postpartum, taking on most, if not all, of the nighttime feedings, diaper changes, and mishaps. You started to feel guilty at some point, feeling the bed shift every night as soon as she got fussy. You question him one evening, curious if he was bothered by having to get up so frequently throughout the early morning hours. He shakes his head no in response. "You carried our daughter for nine months, love," he states. "The least I can do is get up at night to take care of her."

Thankfully, everyone in the hideout was more than accommodating of Clive's decision to stay by your side the first few months after your daughter was born. In fact, you're sure he would've received an earful from both Tarja and Jill if he tried to return to work any sooner than he did.

Those days have long since passed, though, and Clive soon returned to picking up assignments while you stayed at the hideaway taking care of your daughter. You'd think that with so many people congregated in one area, you'd have plenty of people to help watch over your daughter while Clive was away, but you couldn't have been more wrong. A majority were off on assignments of their own, and the ones who stayed behind either had work to be handled there or were too injured and otherwise unfit for watching an infant.

Needless to say, you and Clive were worn out and weary. Having gone three months without any real chance to recuperate, in comes Jill, poor, unsuspecting Jill.

She had just returned from her travels across the realm and decided to visit your chambers, excited to share all the exciting tales from her journey. "Oh, dear," was all she could muster upon seeing your exhausted disposition. Your under eyes had become darker and more prominent due to the lack of sleep.

Clive was out at the moment, but you implore Jill to stay, knowing he'd be happy to see his childhood friend once he returned. The two of you took a seat on the small couch in your chambers, catching her up on everything that's been going on in the hideout. Clive returns a short while later, pleasantly surprised at the sight of Jill, and the three of you bond over tea while she talks about her travels.

"Forgive me for saying so, but the two of you look a wreck."

"Yeah, haha, it hasn't been easy, that's for sure." You give a half-hearted laugh, trying to make light of how spent you and Clive truly are.

"I'm on leave for another few days; I wouldn't mind watching your daughter for a night or two."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose."

"It's not really imposing if I'm the one offering, is it?"

"Besides, I miss the little cherub."

A beat goes by, and she can tell that you're still feeling conflicted. "I promise I wouldn't have suggested the idea if I wasn't sure."

"Alright then," you say, grasping her hands in yours. "Thank you."

It's sometime later that you're packing everything she'll need in an overnight bag and going through the mental checklist in your head. "I think that's everything," you state, checking and then rechecking everything.

You're about to hand over the bag to Jill when you're hit with a wave of doubt. You watch as she cradles your baby girl in her arms and can't help but get flooded with a bunch of what-ifs. What if there aren't enough diapers? What if she won't settle down to sleep? What if there's an accident? Your worries build and build to the point where you're about to protest Jill taking her at all when Clive clasps a warm hand over your shoulder.

"She'll be alright, sweetheart."

You know he's right. Jill's watched your daughter overnight a few times before. You knew you could trust her; she was one of the biggest supports you had during your pregnancy, other than Clive. You release the breath you didn't know you were holding and sigh. "You're right, you're right," you agree, handing Jill the bag. "I just worry about her, you know?"

Jill smiles back at you. "No offense is taken, and I can assure you that your daughter is in good hands."

You and Clive give your daughter a soft kiss on the forehead before turning to Jill once more. "If anything, and I mean anything, happens, don’t hesitate to get in contact with us, alright?"

"I promise," she smiles as if to reassure you further.

"Say bye-bye to mommy and daddy," Jill states, grabbing your daughter's arm and waving it lightly in the air, causing her to giggle. "I'll see you both in a few days," she says before turning to take her leave. The door shuts behind her, and you and Clive are left in the silence of your chambers.

All of the following day was spent getting your life back in some semblance of order. Once neglected chores and errands were taken care of as Clive went about completing more assignments.

It’s late in the evening when he returns. You're nestled in bed reading a book when he walks in, changing out of his clothes and into his sleepwear. It’s a few minutes later that he climbs into bed beside you, snuggling into your back.

"Reading anything interesting?" he mumbles.

"Just a romance novel; I’ve been meaning to go through this one for a while but haven’t had the time."

"Is it any good?"

"For the most part, the characters are kind of cliche, but I'll give you my full review once I'm finished."

"I'm looking forward to it" is all he says as he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

A few minutes pass, and you continue reading as Clive remains glued to your back before he cuts through the silence. "It’s so quiet."

You close the book and set it aside on the nightstand. "I know, it almost feels...wrong? I'm so used to hearing our girl babble or cry."

Clive hums into the nape of your neck before pulling you closer to him, slowly caressing your body over the nightgown you chose to wear. "I’m beginning to suspect that you're having less than pure intentions with me, Rosfield," you tease, starting to lean into his touch.

"Can you really blame me? When I have such an alluring and tempting woman in my bed?"

"I suppose not," you say, enjoying the feeling of his hands roaming your supple form.

Your body has changed so much since your pregnancy and subsequent birth. So much of you grew, shrank, stretched, and sagged, yet Clive still held you tender all the same. You're cradled gently in his arms as he kisses you. He worships your body, treating you as if you were the rarest and most prized treasure in all of Valisthea. You're worth so much more in his eyes—more than all the gil in the realm, more than the power of every Mothercrystal combined. He views you as if nothing else matters more than you and the sacred flesh that bore your daughter.

To say you were always at peace with the changes happening to your body would simply be a lie. You were well aware of all the ways your figure would change to accommodate the growing life inside you, but to be aware of the changes during pregnancy and to actually see them reflected on your own skin is vastly different.

In one of your earlier bouts of insecurity, questioning if Clive would still find you attractive after all was said and done, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close while whispering words of reassurance. "My love, this body has blessed me with the gift of being a father."

"This flesh-" he cuts himself off, placing a hand on your lower stomach to gently caress it. "This flesh that housed our daughter and kept her safe these past nine months is sacred to me."

"How could I ever hate it? How could I be unattracted to the body that has given life to our child?"

"If anything, I think it deserves to be worshipped."

His words echo through your head as you recall the sweet memories. Clive takes notice, as you've stopped moving your lips with his at this point. "What’s on your mind?" he asks, smirking down at you. You try and fail at tucking some strands of his shaggy hair behind his ear, choosing to fiddle with the earring that cuffs it instead. "Thinking about how much I love you," you sigh. "I'm lucky to be able to experience this with you."

He chuckles lightly at your statement before responding. "I’d say I was the lucky one," he strokes his finger along your cheek. "So much of my life has been filled with pain, grief, anger, vengeance, you name it."

"I had become jaded, fighting day in and day out in battles with seemingly no end in sight," he pauses before continuing, "but you, my love, showed me that things could be different."

"That I could grow into something more than my pain and my anger, that I had a real chance at a happier life, at making amends with myself for what I’ve done."

"I'll forever be grateful for that, for you, and for our family."

You give him a heartfelt smile. "I guess we’re both lucky then." You pull him back into a kiss once more, his body settling on top of yours. It’s soft and tender—the slow smacking of lips and gentle caressing of skin as you both enjoy each other. There’s no need to rush this; there's no need to hurry for fear of a waking baby. You're able to savor the tender intimacy of this moment in bed together.

You run your foot up and down his calf as he holds you close in his arms. The passion of the kiss increases as your breathing gets heavier and quicker in succession. It's not long after that tongues get added, gliding along each other as you savor the flavor of each other’s mouth.

You're the first to pull away, dilated pupils staring back at him as you state, "I love you." He smiles softly, his eyes filling with adoration as he gazes upon your sweet face. He leans in once more, whispering just above your lips, "I love you too, sweetheart."

He gives your lips a few more pecks before he cups your jaw and lolls your head to the side, allowing him access to your neck. "I’ve missed this," he whispers into your ear, "being able to take care of you, giving you pleasure." He stays in that spot for a few moments before moving down to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking at any skin it can find before the kisses become a bit more aggressive. Teeth softly graze the skin of your neck before it's sucked in between his lips.

Once he's done marking up your flesh, he returns to his original spot by your ear. There’s no beating around the bush when he asks with bated breath, "Can I make love to you?" A sheepish expression adorns your face. No matter how many times the two of you have sex, Clive being so blunt with the way he asks always makes you shy.

You mumble out a "yes," and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before he moves down your body, tugging the hem of your nightgown right below your bustline. He leans back and takes a moment to admire the sight below him. Your body is bathed in the warm, gentle glow of candlelight. The soft curves of your form are accentuated by the shadows where the light doesn’t reach.

He moves back to your body again, pressing his lips just below where the fabric of your gown is bunched around your chest. More open-mouthed kisses litter your skin before he speaks once more. "It’s been a while since we could enjoy each other like this."

"Far too long," you agree.

"Looks like we better take advantage of this then," he murmurs before resuming his efforts. 

Every roll, dip, curve, mark, and mole on your body gets lavished with the affection that his mouth and fingertips provide, worshipping your divine flesh. Clive has long since forgotten the supposed sanctity of the Eikons that have run the world into the ground for centuries. If he were to believe in anything holy, though, it’d be you, angelic in your reactions to his gentle caresses.

He lingers around the fullness of your stomach, tracing every stretch mark on your belly with his tongue as he squeezes your sides gently in his hands. "You're so beautiful, so sexy," he groans. "I love how you feel against me." The tips of his fingers skim your sides as his mouth continues its descent down your body.

When he reaches the hemline of your knickers, he jumps over to one of your thighs, continuing his kisses down your leg. This pattern continues until he's kissed up and down your legs, reaching the bikini line of your underwear. He pauses, taking note of the wet patch of arousal between your thighs. A single kiss is placed at the height of your cotton-clad mound before he's moving to take the band of your panties into his mouth and subsequently tugging them down with his teeth.

"You’re such a tease," you huff in light frustration. "Oh, you love it," he quips, smirking as he pulls the garment off your legs, tossing it on the floor. He readjusts himself on the bed, kneeling in front of your now-bent legs, and carefully pulls them apart. 

He gets on his stomach and aligns himself with your needy cunt, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. He admires the glistening arousal that coats your folds before placing another kiss on top of your mound. He's quick to lick at your inner thighs, purposely avoiding where you need him the most. His teasing continues on for a few more minutes before you whine out his name in frustration.

"I’m just trying to enjoy the moment, love."

"There’s no need to rush," he coos, his tongue lapping at your outer folds, closer than he was before but not close enough for your liking.

"I’ve missed this part the most." With every break between his statements, he kisses his way closer to your desired destination. "I've missed taking my time with you, making you fall apart with just my tongue," and with that, he finally makes contact with your slit; it's a slow drag from your quivering hole to your puffy clit. "I've missed your scent." His tongue dips back down to your entrance, the muscle slowly thrusting in and out of you, savoring every drop of arousal that graces his tastebuds. "I've missed your taste." He gathers a pool of spit behind his lips before dribbling it on your clit, smearing it around with his tongue, thoroughly soaking the surrounding hair of your mons in the process. His drool dribbles down your cunt, and he’s quick to lap it all up, enjoying the way his tongue plays with your folds. Attention is brought back to your clit once more as his tongue flicks the nub back and forth before pulling it between his lips and sucking softly.

You give a full-bodied moan as he continues to eat you out, allowing your head to hang back as you exhale in pleasure. Your fingers clutch the soft bedding beneath you, causing Clive to take notice and interlock his fingers with your own.

You begin rolling your hips in tandem with his sucks, fully indulging in the pleasure he's giving you, when, of course, he pulls away. You’re about to start making a fuss when he speaks over you. "Would you like my fingers as well?"

"Uh-huh," you pant, staring down at him in anticipation. He pushes the middle finger of his free hand into his mouth, coating it in saliva before running it in between your slit, drawing slow circles around your clit.

You whine his name, having grown tired of his antics at this point. "Alright, my love." His finger trickles back down, tracing your entrance before slowly sinking into your warm heat. "Oh yes," you moan.

His mouth returns to your clit, giving you some time to adjust to the recent intrusion. After a few more whines and pleas, he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your warm heart, curling it slightly. Your hands find solace in his hair, tugging lightly on the dark roots. The thrust of his fingers increase in intensity as he continues to finger-fuck you. Your hips buck against his face once more as the desperation to reach your peak becomes apparent.

"Look me in the eyes when you cum."

"I want to see the look on your face when I make a mess of you." His gaze is intense when you meet his eyes. You can't help but bite your lip at the sight of him moving down to suckle on your clit once more. The smolder he throws your way as he continues to pleasure you is unfairly sexy, groaning into your cunt like you're the best meal he’s ever tasted. You’re reduced to nothing but pants and high-pitched whines as your hips continue to wildly buck against his mouth.

It’s only a few short moments later that you’re pushed over the edge, mouth agape, as you reach the peak of pleasure. You're borderline overstimulated as Clive continues to suck your clit through your climax. You unconsciously squeeze your thighs against his head in an attempt to get him to stop. He gets the hint and pulls away, and a slight sheen from your wetness can be seen on his lips and facial hair.

"Do you still wish to go further?" He murmurs against your skin.

"Ye- oh shit," his head perks up at your exclamation. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" His voice takes on a worried tone.

"Nothing’s wrong; it’s just...fuck, I’m leaking." The wet splotches on the fabric of your nightgown covering your breasts are now evident. "I haven’t pumped in a while."

"Oh." There's an awkward tension in the air as you both sit in silence. Clive's the one to break the ice. "So, when you orgasm, you leak milk?"

You attempt a half-hearted laugh, wanting to crawl under the covers and hide in embarrassment. "I could help you if you want." You're quick to raise an eyebrow in response. "Huh?" He’s a bit shy with his response this time. "I could, you know, suck on them and help express the milk."

"Are you serious?"

"I can’t lie to you—the way your breasts look now, their weight and fullness—they're tantalizing."

"I’ve been desperate to taste your milk straight from its source."

"Fuck, Clive" is all you can manage to say.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

To say that you hadn’t also thought of Clive sucking the milk from your tits would be a lie. Excitement builds in the room as he stands up; his arousal is apparent as his erection shows through his clothes. He pulls off his sleep shirt along with the trousers, leaving him in his underwear. He crawls on the bed towards you, pulling you onto his lap to straddle him. The two of you meet in the middle for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

He's slow to grind you against his still-covered shaft, guiding your hips back and forth while enjoying the sounds of your pants in each other's mouths. A bead of precum seeps through his underwear, where the head of his cock still lingers. The wet spots on your nightgown grow in size as your breast continues to leak from repeated pleasure.

Clive's hands run along the path of your legs to the now-fallen hemline of your gown, silently asking if he can remove the barrier that separates you from the sweetness. You give a simple nod, and he slowly pulls the fabric up your body, making sure you feel the drag of his fingers linger on your skin. The gown is pulled off your body and tossed off the side of the bed. The fullness of your breasts is much more apparent now that you’re sitting upright in front of him.

You drink each other in as you're enveloped in the warm, flickering light. He’s still just as handsome as when you first met him, with his kind bedroom eyes and gentle affections that are reserved for just you.

He looks upon your body with adoration—your thicker thighs, the swell of your hips, the way your belly hangs. A lovesick look crosses his features, sweetness filling his eyes when he tells you, "You’re the most beautiful woman to ever grace this planet." You know he's telling the truth; his warm hands knead the sides of your body as if to give the statement more weight. 

Your hand reaches down to palm his cock through his underwear. The touch is light and gentle, causing his breath to hitch. You pull his hardened length through the band of his underwear, lightly pumping him up in your hand. After tugging the material of his underwear further down his legs, you sit yourself a bit higher on his lap, lining him up with your entrance.

The sound of your combined groans can be heard as you slowly inch yourself down on his cock. He fills you up deliciously, just as he always has, just as he always will.

You take a moment to settle yourself, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back, your head resting on his shoulder. Another confession of "I love you" is swapped between the two of you as you meet for another sweet kiss.

Your hips begin to roll back and forth while you're impaled on his cock. Clive takes this time to tenderly work at your breasts, gently massaging the swollen tissue. Airy, dulcet tones of enjoyment fall from your lips. He gently pinches your nipples, and droplets of milk dribble from your nipples, causing him to lick his lips. He leans his head closer to your chest, his mouth hovering over it. "Can I?"

"Uh-huh," you nod.

Your efforts on his cock speed up as you begin to bounce on him with slightly more vigor. He laps at the droplets that fall from your breasts before slowly licking around your areola. One of his arms braces you against him as you continue to ride him, and the other works its way down to your bum, squeezing the supple flesh.

The moment of truth finally arrives. Clive engulfs your nipple in his mouth and sucks lightly. Bursts of milk squirt into his mouth, and he's quick to gulp down every last drop.

"Mmf."

He continues to drain the excess milk from your breast, sucking and swallowing everything you can offer before switching over to the other. "Founder, you're so fucking hot," you say as you peer down at him while he mouths at your untouched tit.

"Yeah? You enjoy watching me drink from your breast, sucking on your sweet tits?"

You clench down on him hard, practically suffocating his cock as you drag your cunt up and down his shaft. A part of you feels dirty for enjoying this, enjoying the way your lover looks as he suckles your tit and watching the excess milk dribble from the corners of his mouth down to the rest of his body. You can’t deny its appeal as more of your wetness coats his cock.

"Yeah," you whine, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling flustered as you become desperate in your movements, wiggling your arm down your torso to rub at your clit. "Naughty girl," he murmurs against your skin before taking the other nipple into his mouth, repeating the same process he did previously.

The efforts on your clit accelerate as you move against him. The muscles of your thigh and core burn as your rhythm on his cock continues, and your mewls for him grow in volume. "Clive, I can’t, my legs-" he detaches himself from your breast at the sound, pulling you into his chest. He reaches both hands down to your bum, spreading both cheeks as he plants his feet on the bed and batters into your cunt, thrusting in and out with intense vigor. 

A slew of whines escapes you, begging him to get you to completion. Your cheek rests on the crux of his neck and shoulder while he continues to fuck you mercilessly. Your fingers are relentless on your clit, smearing you and Clive's joint slick all around.

Both your drool and breast milk start to leak down onto his chest, creating delicious, slick friction as your bodies rub against each other. "Cum on my cock, sweetheart; you deserve it."

"Come on, it’s all for you." After a few more harsh thrusts and circles around your clit, you sob into his shoulder, wildly rutting your hips against his navel, extending the peak of your pleasure for as long as you can. You fully collapse onto him, your creamy cunt pumping and milking his cock for everything it has. It’s only a few short moments later that he delivers his final sloppy thrusts before filling you with his seed.

You’re both sweaty and spent as you lay in each other's arms, the sounds of your labored breathing echoing throughout the room.

"I love you," Clive says as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too," you mumble before reaching to peck him on the lips. You snuggle up against him before asking, "So... what does my milk taste like?"

He gives an airy laugh before responding. "It actually tasted quite good."

"I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was surprisingly sweet and rather warm."

"Well," you say amusedly, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed myself," he teases, smirking down at you. "Yeah, yeah," you grumble, attempting to hide your embarrassment as you bury your face into his chest.

"Come on, love," he chuckles, rubbing his arm up and down your back. "Let's get cleaned up and ready for bed."

[flowercrowngods]

When Eddie finds Steve lying on the living room floor, he’s not concerned at first. It’s what he does sometimes, and Eddie himself can appreciate a bit of floor time on occasion, too, but for Steve it’s sacred. So he smiles and sits down beside him, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, a “Hey, pretty boy” already on his lips before he freezes.

Because Steve isn’t all relaxed like he usually is, with his mind just a few inches off to the side where everything is calm and fine and better. And when he finally meets Eddie’s eyes, they’re not glazed over but sharp. Sharp with something that cuts right through Eddie, because he’s seen this look before, and he knows just what to do.

“Stevie, baby, I’m right here. I’m gonna make a call, okay, I will be right back.” When Steve opens his mouth, Eddie just leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He’s not sure how much invasion of space is allowed, but Steve is still holding his hand so that has to count for something, right? “Shh, don’t speak,” he whispers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He tries not to kiss Steve like he’s about to break, or talk to him like something’s wrong, because nothing is wrong. Steve is not wrong for getting like this sometimes, it’s not his fault; it’s not something Eddie can’t handle. Steve doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s somehow wrong for getting into that headspace where words just won’t come out of his mouth and he needs to lie down and hope that will help.

Which, today it didn’t, apparently.

Eddie gets up with one last kiss to Steve’s hand and a reassuring smile, and goes to make a phone call. There’s only one person who can help Steve get out of his head, and Eddie doesn’t really understand it, nobody does, but they all know it.

“Hey, Joyce,” he sighs in relief when she answers the phone. “Is El home?”

“Eddie! Yes, she’s there, what… Steve?”

“Steve.”

Joyce sighs and Eddie knows she’s worried and wants to tell her not to be, it’s not fair to be worried, Steve hates when they worry, but. He’d be a hypocrite.

“You know you don’t have to ask, honey. Get over here, I’ll make some cocoa.”

With a smile, Eddie hangs up and goes back to Steve, crouching down beside him to stroke the hair out of his face. “Hey there again, pretty boy. I’m gonna drive over to Joyce’s, wanna tag along?”

What he really wants to say is, I’ll take care of you. Everything is gonna be just fine. But Steve doesn’t like the fuss. That kind of discussion is for another day, though. When Steve can actually get a word in.

That is how they find themselves in the Hopper-Byers household, Eddie holding Steve’s hand as the boy tries to make himself smaller than he is — like every time. Joyce doesn’t fuss, and Eddie knows just how much that takes, knows that Joyce is so much stronger than him in moments like this.

“Steve,” comes a small voice from the door to Eleven’s room, and Eddie finds the girl approaching them slowly. Beside him, Steve sways and Eddie tightens his grip for a second, brushing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting him go.

Eleven wraps her arms around Steve’s middle and the two of them just hold each other. They have a bond that none of them truly understand, one that Eddie knows even Robin is jealous of. But it makes sense, he figures. On some kind of deeply existential level, it does make sense for Eleven to be the one who can help Steve when he’s nonverbal like this.

Maybe because she doesn’t talk much. Maybe because around her he doesn’t feel like he has to be anyone or anything because it’s all the same to her. Or maybe there’s a special kind of magic in the way she will pull him onto the floor, their backs against the couch, his head on her shoulder and her fingers running through Steve’s hair.

They’ve been through something together. Maybe they go through something together every time they talk each other down without words — because in return, Steve does the same for her. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

It’s calm and quiet in the living room and Eddie shares a glance with Joyce before they step outside to give Steve and El some privacy.

“I hate seeing him like this,” Eddie admits finally. It’s hardly more than a whisper, a treacherous little truth that cuts into his heart every time this happens.

“I know,” Joyce says. “Me too.”

“I hate that I can’t help him.”

Oh the truths just keep coming. It’s that kind of moment.

“You’re helping him, honey. You are. But sometimes we need different people for different hurts. And that boy has more than all of us combined. Or… Well, not all of us.” And she’s looking through the window, watching El and Steve still wrapped around each other.

And it’s true. Eddie knows. Maybe that’s why he hates it so much. Steve’s nonverbal episodes are a stark reminder for all the pain he had to take upon himself. Alone. For years.

“Just love him through it,” Joyce continues. “Not despite it, not because it it. Just through it.”

“I am. I do. Don’t think I could stop even if he asked me to.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “Good. Now, join me on a run to the bakery? I think they’ll need something sweet when they’re back with us.”

With one last glance through the window, seeing Steve calm and quiet, Eddie bows and offers his arm to Joyce. “I’d be delighted to join you, lady Byers.”

It’ll be fine, he tells himself. They’ll be fine.

[desert-rose24]

Worshipped (Just Imagine Series)

Welcome to my first series called Just Imagine! This is where you, the reader, can read your filthiest thoughts without having a character or person specified. It's all up to you and who you want to picture these fantasies with.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! THIS IS 18+ ONLY! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU ARE NOT OVER 18!

WARNINGS: Pure Smut, Cursing, Dirty Talk, Nicknames (Baby, Sweetheart), Slight Begging, Orgasm, Slight Overstimulation, Fingering, Slight Nipple Play, Kissing, Slight Body Worship, Edging

These stories will not specify any reader ethnicity or race! However, these stories will differ. If you want to read one where you're fantasizing of a specific gender, I'll write those too! THIS STORY IS GENDER NEUTRAL GIVING!

I AM WRITING THESE MORE AIMED TOWARDS FEMALE, PLUS SIZED READERS RECEIVING! It's something I'm more experienced with writing, but I will take requests. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

I do not give any permission for my work to be copied, translated, modified, or reposted on any other site, app, or platform

Part Two

:)

Just imagine the way they make you feel. The way their voice goes through your ears, making you melt. Maybe it's the way they whisper or lean into you when they speak. Perhaps in some cases, it's not the way they say it, but what they actually say.

"You're so damn beautiful"

"You taste so good"

"Good girl"

"You're so fucking wet"

"Cum all over me, baby"

Ah yes, words are powerful, but you know what they always say. "Actions speak louder than words." And that's exactly what they have shown you. When they grab your plump thighs, sometimes slapping them just so they could see them jiggle. It's the moments when they tightly squeeze your full ass to make you moan. Or when they undo your bra just to watch your breasts pour out, taking in every jiggle and bounce. It drives them crazy.

And oh, how you love the way you're adored. No, more like worshipped. In more ways than just one. The way their lips connect with yours. The fresh, purple hickeys covering your chest and neck. When their tongue lingers on every part of your body. Your neck, chest, breasts, hips, thighs...pussy.

Ugh, don't even get them started on your pussy. All the movie nights, sitting on the couch with your legs resting on their lap, where they would see the growing patch of wetness seeping through your panties. It makes them want to reach out and give you the relief you so utterly deserve. You better not be thinking they don't notice...they do. How about when you're standing in the kitchen making a snack? They hug you from behind, planting kisses on your neck and you suddenly rub your thighs together with a low groan? It's so obvious, they want to laugh, but instead, they wait for the right moment. With enough teases, you're bound break aren't you?

Alas, the day is coming to an end. You still haven't said a word about your growing need that has yet to be taken care of. The question as to why you haven't said anything still lingers in your mind as you quietly lie down in bed, wearing a t-shirt and panties, not knowing the answer either. Maybe it'll pass, you think. That's what you always say. You take a deep sigh as you start closing your eyes as you try not to dwell on the ache you feel in your core. That is...until you feel them wrap their arm around your waist. They start rubbing your round, chubby tummy, making the ache grow even more. They knew. No matter how many times you (poorly) tried to hide it, it always came out to the light. You were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice their hand travelling down your torso, stopping just under the waistband of your panties. Turning your head towards them, they planted a soft kiss right on your lips, pushing their hand further down, reaching your core.

Turning onto your back, you spread your legs, giving them more access. They gently let their fingers linger on your puffy pussy lips, making you softly moan into their kiss. Your hips slightly jerk upwards, the throbbing sensation growing more impatient. You feel them slightly smile against your mouth as you feel their fingers spread your lips, the cool air against your wet cunt making you shiver with lust. You let you a heavy sigh as you feel their fingers gathering your slick, bringing it all the way up to your clit. They let their middle finger rest on your bundle of nerves, making your body jerk. You know what they want...and you're so happy and willing to give it to them.

"Please" you say, feeling your pussy throb as your hips slightly rock into their hand. They let out a light chuckle as they know how needy you are for some type of pleasure.

"Please what, sweetheart?" they respond, their finger pressing down on your bundle of nerves, yet not moving them in the way you want.

"Please...just t-touch me already" you whimpered, a slight frustration making its way into your voice.

Giving you a wet kiss, they start moving their fingers in a slow pace. A soft moan escaped your lips into their mouth. The throbbing was no longer aching. The feeling of their fingers rubbing against you was like no other. Not even you could make yourself feel like this. The slow pace was starting to make you excited, you want them to go faster. Your hips started circling on their hand, giving them a signal. And boy, did they understand that signal. They started moving their fingers faster, making your throw your head back against the pillow with a loud moan. Your back now arching, they saw this as an opportunity to lift up your t-shirt, making your breasts pop out. With their free hand, they grope your right breast, bringing their index finger and thumb to pinch your nipple. With another loud moan, you bite your lip.

"Yes..." you whisper, your eyes closing as your orgasm slowly makes its way to you. They looked at you, knowing you're near. They move their fingers even faster, making your body thrash. A series of "Fuck" and "Please" pour out of your mouth as you chase your orgasm. You're so close, you're right there, just a little more and...they stopped. With a loud, frustrated groan, you open your eyes, looking at them through the darkness of the room. They let out a chuckle before speaking.

"Oh baby~, it's not going to be that easy. Don't worry, I'll give you what you want" they said as they pressed their two middle fingers against your hole. They sure knew you a little too well to know that fingering was the best way to make you cum...hard. You whimpered as you, yet again, have excitement filling your core. They pushed their fingers into your hole, making you feel full. You swear, you could've cum right then and there. They started pumping their fingers as a satisfied moan escapes your lips. As if that wasn't enough, they started paying attention to your chest again. With a long lick on your nipple, you grab their head, balling up a fistful of hair.

"Such pretty tits for me" they said. If it wasn't so dark, they'd have all their attention on your boobs. They just adored how they jiggled and bounced with every pump their fingers make inside you. They started pumping faster, wanting you to finally reach the orgasm you long for. You deserve it after all. They reached that deep, spongy part inside you that makes you go crazy. The sound of loud moans and wet squelching of your pussy filled the room. Your cunt squeezing tighter and tighter around their fingers, letting them know you're right there. They started quickly rubbing your clit with their free hand, making your eyes fill with tears in pleasure.

"C'mon baby, cum for me. You're doing so good" they said, making you groan in response.

"Ahhhh~ fuck!" you scream, your back arching as the feeling of ecstasy hits you. The release you've been craving has finally come to you. White hot pleasure fills your core as they slow down their fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. Your hips rock as it comes to an end, overstimulation now taking over. Your body twitches as you squeeze your thighs together, making them retract their fingers out of your panties. They bring their fingers up to their mouth and suck your juices off, moaning in delight. Usually, you would slap their hand out of their mouth and cover your face in embarrassment. You guess you could let it slide this one time, it's dark anyways. The night comes to a great end as you fall asleep in their arms, satisfaction and sleep taking over. Oh, wouldn't it be nice to have that kind of relief? To not only be loved, but to feel the pleasure that comes from love? That burning ache you feel deep down. It's not a want, but a need.

Too bad it's all just a fantasy...right?

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

I could teach you things

Summary: I love every mommy!wanda fic I see so I wanted to give it a proper go, so here she is,

Wanda takes a liking to the boys new babysitter and she intends to finally make you hers despite your many protests

Words: 2K

Warnings: 18+! minors DNI!, swearing, mentions of smut no actual smut, dark!wanda, manipulation and coercion kinda

A/N: this isn’t proofread because I did it in like 4 hours, but I hope it’s good :)

Wanda was quiet as she watched you move through the kitchen "are you okay Y/n?" She asked and you jumped away from the cabinet "sorry! I didn't see you there Miss Maximoff"

"It's okay honey I'm sorry I startled you, what are you looking for?" she moved closer to where you stood making you nervous, this woman always managed to make you nervous and you'd only known her a few months since you started working as her babysitter "I er I'm just looking for some snacks for the boys, they've finished their dinner"

Wanda hummed looking at your flushed expression and smiling "there's some chocolate in the cupboard next to you, how about you give the boys the chocolate and meet me in the front room" it wasn't a request and you knew it so you quickly nodded and took the boys their treats promising to return

When you came back to the front room Wanda was sat relaxed on the couch with 2 glasses of wine "oh Miss Maximoff I don't really drink..." you sheepishly sat down next to her and she just smiled "it's okay honey you don't have to drink it all at once, little sips make the wine taste so much better" passing the glass to you she let your fingers touch and you felt electric pulling back just as quick as she touched you.

"Do I make you nervous?" The question was so innocent and yet the smirk on Wanda's face told you she was anything other than innocent in asking her question

“N-no Miss Maximoff I just, I just think I need to be going, I think my mom will be wondering where I am" you took a nervous sip of your wine immediately making a face of distaste making the ginger laugh

“Oh love I'm sure your mom won't mind you staying out past your bedtime, you are a big girl aren't you?"

You laughed "of course, but she worries if I don't at least let her know where I am" you pulled your phone from your pocket but Wanda quickly took it from you "let me tell her sweetheart, what's your passcode?"

You've never told anyone your passcode, it's not like you have anything to hide but it just felt weird to give it to someone, especially someone so close to your mom but it was Wanda so

"It's 137823" you whispered and Wanda smiled "thank you princess" opening your phone she sent a text to your mom that she didn't let you see but you didn't question it when she put your phone on the table looking back at you "are you still dating Carol?" Her voice was sharp and it made you jump "no, no we broke up, she wanted to..." your voice trailed off and Wanda moved closer to you placing a hand on your knee

"Go on honey" she encouraged you and so you did "she wanted to have sex and I didn't, I just don't feel ready"

"Oh honey I'm sorry about that" she inched her hand a little up your leg rubbing small circles, fortunately for her you failed to notice "never feel pressured to do anything you're not ready for, but I do want to ask, have you ever done anything" she stopped for moment "sexual?"

You felt the blush cover your entire face and tried moving away from the woman but instead she gripped your thigh keeping you still, that's when you noticed how high her hand really was "shh its okay Y/n, women have these kinds of chats that's nothing wrong with it"

You nodded, Wanda wouldn't lie to you, would she? No of course not "well I tried touching myself but I felt odd so I stopped" Wanda's interest was piqued so she pressed on "did you feel tingly?

You shrugged "a little, then it got more intense and I thought I had to pee so I just stopped, I've never really tired again" Wanda listened intently and when you looked down she lifted your chin up smiling at you "don't be embarrassed malyshka you just need someone to teach you, it's all about communication"

What was she offering? You were sure she was offering something but you couldn't think of it "oh I guess so but what girl wants to spend their time teaching me things like a child"

Wanda kept a hold of your chin softly stroking you with her thumb "you need an older woman to teach you" she moved her face close to your own whispering in your ear "I could teach you" your eyes widened and you jumped away from her and off of the couch "Miss Maximoff I don't think that's appropriate! You felt bad for shouting but she what she was offering was definitely inappropriate, how was it not?

Wanda wasn't fazed, in fact she smirked "why do you think it's inappropriate honey?" You shook your head "are you serious?! You're like 12 years older than me!"

"Actually it's 10 years but I'll forgive since you seem to be a little upset" setting her wine glass down she stood and you instantly shrunk under he gaze "such a sweet little girl who needs someone to help her, let me"

"No, no Miss Maximoff this is wrong, I think I should go home now" you went to turn for the door but Wanda snatched your hand pulling you into her, you facing away and her face in your neck "are you sure?"

Her lips descended onto your neck in opened mouth kisses making you groan unintentionally which made her smile and lift from your neck "I know you have a mom but I think what you really need is a mommy"

Just as you tried pulling away from Wanda again the boys ran into the room but Wanda still refused to let you go "hey boys everything okay?" Tommy looked between you two "what are you doing?”

You looked at Wanda wondering what she’d do but she gave you a nose kiss looking back to her sons “boys, Y/n is going to be around a lot more from now on, isn’t that exciting?” Their faces lit up when Wanda said that ignoring the way you tried squirming away from their mother’s harsh grip

“That’s so cool! That means we can stay up late playing video games!” Billy and Tommy high fived running back out of the room clearly forgetting what they ran in for in the first place

Finally Wanda let you go and you nearly fell foreword but managed to keep yourself upright making her laugh “well the boys are very excited for you to stay around-“

“No! No this isn’t happening, I’m sorry Wanda I have to put my foot down and say I won’t be babysitting the boys anymore if you continue to be like this” your awkward assertiveness had Wanda raising her eyebrow and tilting her head to the side getting angry “oh really? I think you need to watch how you speak to me shlyukha”

You didn’t know many words that Wanda said but that word you knew since her ex husband used to call it her when he was still around “I’m not a whore Wanda”

“You’re right, to be a whore you need to be having sex, something your clueless little mind doesn’t know anything about” she spun around and picked up your phone from the table “oh look, your mom has text back”

Your throat closed up, forgetting that Wanda sent your mom a text, and after this whole situation you were scared of what it was “what did you say? Wanda smirked “I told her you wanted to stay with me and that I was your mommy now”

“You fucking didn’t!” A slap landed across your face shocking you and holding your soon to be bruised cheek

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that again or the next slap you get will be a lot harsher on a very different part of your body” her voice was hushed as not to scare the boys who she hoped didn’t hear your silly outburst before.

You nodded falling back against the wall and sliding down it keeping your eyes on the woman who’s face softened seeing you scared “oh malen'kiy I’m sorry but you forced my hand, when you misbehave mommy has to punish you”

You didn’t say anything, you just kept your eyes to the floor so you didn’t see Wanda stood above you and she was now stroking your hair get you refused to look up at her “are you okay?”

You shook your head no “why me?” Your voice was a whisper and Wanda knelt down to you “because I see you’ve just been begging for someone to take care of you, you spend day after day trying to please other people while they do nothing for you, the way Carol treated you only for her to break up with you because you wouldn’t fuck her”

You felt wet tears fall from your eyes knowing she was right, you were too much of a people pleaser, and you never got any appreciation back, Wanda carried on seeing your tears

“I want to be the one that pleases you, I want to spoil you with everything you deserve” she pulled your reluctant self into a hug “I want to be the one who touches your body first, I want it bruised by my fingers and I want your moans to be heard by me and me alone” your tears were heavier now but not with sadness you didn’t think, you did really want someone to look after you, but Wanda was going about it in a harsh and manipulative manner.

“You belong here with me, your mother doesn’t car-” your phone lit up again and it caught Wanda’s eye so she handed you your phone back, a little annoyed it interrupted her “read what she has to say” through teary eyes you read the screen

Y/n: Your daughter is mine now ;)

*Several missed calls from mom*

Mom: Y/n? Answer the phone please! I know you’re still at Wandas but please don’t let her do anything!

Mom: She’s off her meds I’m sure of it! Her husband left her for a reason!

The phone was snatched away from you and you realised you were reading aloud which Wanda didn’t like “your mother, along with everyone else in this damn neighbourhood, thinks my husband left because of me and my issues, well what actually happened was, he was fucking his secretary, but that didn’t make him leave no, what made he leave was when he found me fucking her over his desk showing her which maximoff she should’ve chosen”

She dragged you to your feet by your hair dragging you through the house into a room you hadn’t been in before, she closed the door and let you go, you rubbed where she had her grip on you and looked around the room realising this was Vision’s office and your eyes landed on the desk, empty from where he’d cleaned it out when he left

“Are you thinking about it princess? Thinking about me naked with a strap on nestled deep in another woman yanking her hair back so I could spit into her mouth and make her swallow it like the dirty whore she is, my fingers leaving dark purple bruises over her ass as she fu-“

“Enough!” You shouted, you’d had enough, you were sick of her going from one extreme to the other “why don’t you go and get her then?! Go and get that woman you fucked in this very room, I’m sure she’d want to be abused by you again!”

Wanda smiled, like she didn’t just hear you tell her to go and abuse someone “but then who would look after my little girl? You need to stay with me at all times from now on”

You just laughed at her “I don’t have to do any of the shit you say I’m going home right now” you barged past her out of the office and down the stairs finally leaving but was stopped by a soft voice “y/n?” It was Billy, you turned around smiling at the young boy hoping he didn’t see more tears welling up in your eyes “what’s up little man?”

“Aren’t you gonna stay and help us with our Lego set? Mom said you’d stay” He looked sad that you were gonna leave him and it broke your heart “no Billy no I’m staying of course I am…I” you sighed seeing Wanda saunter down the stairs giving you a neutral expression “there’s no ice cream in the house and we can’t build Lego sets without ice cream sandwiches can we?”

You heard Tommy run into the room hearing the word ice cream “we’re getting ice cream?! Hell yeah!”

“Tommy! No bad language” Wanda finally spoke scaring you more than her son who apologised immediately “sorry mom but ice cream is the best”

“Curb your excitement boys, Y/n and I will get the ice cream, I’ll get Agatha to come and watch you okay?” You had no time to say anything before Wanda dragged you out of the house and forced you into her car putting your seatbelt on so you couldn’t get out “I don’t want my princess escaping now do I?” You refused to look at her, if you were forced to stay with her you’d make it a living hell for her

“It’s okay my love I know you’ll be a good girl for me sooner or later, even if I have to break that fighting spirit of yours”.

[villainousunsub]

and in your arms I find solace

pairing: Jemily

rating: G

summary:

late night at the office with just them left leads to them finally talking and being how they used to be, even if it is just for one night

AO3

Emily stared at the ceiling above her, the conversation with JJ still playing on a loop. Well, almost conversation. She could tell something was bothering the other woman, was relieved when she asked to talk. Then Tyler walked in and the moment was gone, she felt it, the shift in JJ’s demeanor. And now here she was, laying in her office and tossing possibilities back and forth in her mind. She groaned in frustration as her mind replayed the close to fear look in JJ’s eyes and then cut to the masked secret that she had seen in the bullpen a mere few hours ago. Emily knew she should have pressed, should have asked JJ to come up to her office, but things had felt different recently. Things were a lot different. She was focused on Elias and Gold Star, on making sure the BAU didn’t get pushed away and erased. So focused on making sure her team was okay, but they weren’t. She was focused on the outside, she had failed to see them individually. 

JJ was clearly falling apart, Rossi she was pretty sure was going insane, and Garcia was struggling with her personal life. She had no idea if the rest of them were even close to being okay, each and every one of them put on a tough face and never said no, but she was no better. Emily knew she should make an appointment with her therapist, to work out her own issues so that she could help and be better for her team, but god did she hate therapy. 

Her mind drifted back to JJ. 

It always did. Every night she would lay down, her eyes drifting, and her mind would wander back to every moment she had shared with JJ that day. Those memories let her breathe, let her find comfort and relief even on her darkest days. 

But the memory of today stung, the brush off after the panic of that morning, it didn’t sit right. Emily tried to recall anything she had done to push JJ away, that would make her recoil, but nothing had come to mind. She knew that Luke, despite her orders, had told JJ about BAU-Gate, but she knew. They had talked about it over wine years ago when she had come back to the team. 

So why did it bother her so? Why did the thought of JJ and the site hurt her enough to sit up and try and catch her breath. Emily dropped her head into her hands, her face warm and damp with tears. 

A clink of glass and porcelain echoed through the empty walls. Emily lifted her head, the sound putting her on high alert. She pushed herself up off the couch, walking just close enough to peak out her blinds, to see a slim female figure walk off down the hall to a back office. The gait, the sway, it all seemed very…JJ. Emily moved quickly, throwing the door to her office open and slipped around empty desks. She glanced in offices as she went, most empty of all life, some sprinkled with nothing more than a photo or name plate. Until she hit Morgan’s old office. A faint glow of cell phone light streamed through the window. She cracked the door, just enough to see a bundle of blankets on the couch. Messy blonde hair popped up from under the blanket, curious blue eyes meeting hers. The smile they shared, reached neither of their eyes. JJ sat up against the arm of the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Emily perched herself on the other arm, her foot nudging one of JJ’s. 

“Hey you.” JJ rested her head on her knees, “What are you still doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same. I thought you went home hours ago.” “Oh yea, no. I just had too much to do so I thought I might as well grab a couch and start early tomorrow.” Emily watched as JJ turned to face away from her, refusing to look at her as she spoke. 

“Right,” Emily moved down to the cushion, “and that’s why you’ve been camping in this office for what? A few days? At least if the couch and blanket don’t lie. I would be able to judge based off the take out containers but they are a little too good at cleaning even empty offices.” 

“Emily-” 

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand, even if I don’t know what is happening, I get not wanting to go home even if there is nothing lurking in the dark there.” 

“I want to talk to you about something, but I don’t think I can.” JJ pulled herself more into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. 

“I’m here. No matter what happens.” Emily rubbed her hands up and down JJ’s legs before pulling them into her lap. “But if we need to sit here until everyone clocks back in before we speak again, I can do that.” 

They sat in silence for a while, Emily drawing incomprehensible patterns as JJ picked at the blanket on her lap. Eventually JJ shifted so that her feet were hanging off the arm of the couch and her head was in Emily’s lap. Emily picked her hands up, pausing for a moment before dropping them to run her fingers through blonde hair. She could feel JJ relax under her touch, the motion putting them both at ease. 

“He told me. Which is fine. I mean I don’t like that it’s being brought up again, but I brushed it off.” She could feel JJ tense as she prepared herself to continue. “But he looked. He went out of his way, he let Voit get to him, and he looked. I told him it was taken care of and to trust you, and he didn’t.” Emily’s body froze, she knew that Luke wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saying something to JJ. She didn’t think he would go as far as to look at the site, knowing what it was, who it was about. She thought back to her last visit years ago, the way it made her feeling seeing herself and her friends on the screen before her. 

“They updated it. It isn’t us anymore.” JJ curled into herself more, pulling one of Emily’s hands with her. “Injure. Jean. Fear. That’s what they changed it to. They rewrote it all and put me as the face. Me. My face, my body, my everything. The internet has evolved so much for a moment, for a moment I had to make sure it wasn’t actually me.” “He saw you.” “All of me. Emily, how many people have seen it? Why did he look? Why did he look deep enough to know it was focused on me.” JJ’s voice broke as tears started falling down her face again. “ I can’t look at him. I hate myself if even a sliver of skin is shown. I can’t go home, face my kids, my husband. God, my husband. He didn’t even know about it the first time and I can’t tell him about it now. I mean hell we barely talk unless it's about the kids. I know this is what he wanted, for us to fall apart. But I don’t know how much more I can take Emily.” 

Emily wrapped her arm not tangled in JJ’s hair around the other woman’s waist, pulling her closer until most of her body was in Emily’s lap. She held her through the shaking and crying, until they were both still and breathing once more. Emily placed a gentle kiss onto JJ’s head, never once loosening her grip. 

“It’s okay to fall apart. I’ll be there to help pick up the pieces. You know I’ve always had your back, in and out of work. Don’t let him make you second guess that. I’d rather you sleep on the couch in my office so I can help keep the demons away then locking yourself in here.” JJ sagged against Emily, her body finally relaxing after holding it all in for so long. 

“We can never let him tear us apart. I don’t know what I’d do without you Emily.” 

“Probably live in this office if they’d let you.” 

“I would go home at some point. Can’t use the same 2 outfits forever, at least not around these people. God can you imagine what Garcia would say?” They both laughed, before holding onto each other even tighter. 

“How about we camp in the office for one more night, then tomorrow we both have to go home at a decent time. Or at the very least, we have to make it one of our houses.” 

“Are you claiming my couch already Emily Prentiss?” 

“I’m sure Will wouldn’t mind the bed being a bit tighter than usual, your couch kills my back.” JJ turned to face Emily, the smile finally reaching her eyes even in the low light. 

“We could kick him to the couch?” A matching smile graced Emily’s lips before she nodded. 

JJ laid her head on Emily’s shoulder, pulling the blanket over the both of them. One more night wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t ruin everything they had overcome. Wouldn’t make her question a decision she made years ago. Her eyes slowly closed, becoming heavier and heavier with every thought, the arm wrapped around her steady and tight. Keeping nightmares away.

[koushuwu]

» 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 *:･ﾟ✧

» 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kageyama tobio x reader | 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,7k | hq masterlist

» 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you crashed at tobio’s place in italy on a vacation, he was contempt to sleep on the couch. but you, on the other hand, was having none of that.

» 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬): fluff, slight angst i guess, sharing a bed, best friends younger brother, suggestive content, a lot of feelings bc i’m emotional, rushed ending (sorry), no editing we die like neji. lmk if i missed something.

the first time kageyama got you in his bed, he could have sworn he might actually die. it didn’t mean anything. two people can sleep next to each other, without it meaning anything. right? right. that’s what you’d said when you told him it was fine, sharing the bed. he really hadn’t meant for it to happen. he’d been contempt with taking the couch while you were here, visiting him in Italy. that’s what he’d planned to do all along when you’d asked if you could stay with him for a while, on vacation.

you, on the other hand, weren’t having it. the first night, he’d been rigid. impossible to convince when you said you’d take the couch. and so he took the couch. the next night, you’d tried again, with the same result. and then the third. but on the fourth night, you decided to try a different tactic.

“i’m not asking you to switch places with me tonight,” you’d said. you looked at him with a look that he couldn’t quite place.

“no?” he questioned instead, deciding instead to just be relieved that you’d finally given up. it wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed sleeping on his couch. but the sole implication that he might even consider leaving you to sleep on the couch while he took the bed? you of all people? that was simply not going to happen. ever. he’d much rather lie on his couch every single night with nothing but his own thoughts and longings, knowing you were just beyond the wall, soundly sleeping between his sheets, than let you be uncomfortable for his benefit.

“nope,” you agreed lightly. tobio was relieved but then you spoke again and the air was all but knocked from his lungs. “you’re clearly not going to agree, so let’s share the bed instead.”

“what?” he asked, breathless. as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. he mustn’t’ve. because he could have sworn you just suggested sharing a bed with him. him. tobio. your friend's brother. her younger brother at that. that couldn’t possibly be true.

“yeah,” you said, as if what you’d suggested was the most normal thing in the entire world. which it wasn’t, by the way. “it’s a double size bed. it’ll fit us both.” so he really did hear you correctly. he blinked once. swallowed. took a breath. trying to steady himself.

“no.”

“yes it will,” you said, and it took a second before tobio understood what you meant. it would fit the both of you. but it wasn’t going to. not gonna happen. it really wasn’t like he’d prefer the bed. it wasn’t like he hadn’t dreamt of sharing a bed with you. as if he hadn’t laid awake for countless hours, imagining you in his arms until it arised an entirely different, very physical problem than just the sleeplessness.

“no, i meant no. we’re not sharing the bed,” he said, clarifying. his voice felt thick. like it may betray him if he didn’t keep it leashed with everything that he had. because honestly. truthfully. he wanted to share the bed with you. he wanted to lie next to you. to smell you all around him. to put an arm around you and hold you close to his chest. he wanted to, but–

“why not?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“because–” his voice trailed off, needing a moment to steady his voice. to keep his wants in check. to come up with a good enough reason, that didn’t entail him confessing the feelings he’s harbored for you, since before he even had the words to describe what it was. but of course, you picked up on his hesitation and crossed your arms.

“go on,” you prompted. shit.

“what about miwa?” he said in a last ditch effort to save himself, and even as the words crossed his lips, he knew it sounded absurd. what was he even insinuating? he didn’t know. he just knew that he couldn’t risk it. it was dangerous at best and he no matter what he wanted, he couldn’t just take such a chance. he couldn’t. right?

“what about her? she’s not here, tobio,” you said. your gaze searched his face, for what, he didn’t know. but he hoped whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it. he really, really hoped you wouldn’t find it. “it’s not like we’ll be taking her sleeping spot from her,” you said, and tobio almost heaved a relieved sigh. you didn’t seem to notice the potential implication of bringing up his sister to you. her best friend.

“no, i know, but–”

“it’s just sleeping,” you argued, cutting him off. it was a wonder how you managed to do that, considering how soft the words were, when you spoke them. as they settled in the air between you two. and even as tobio felt something clench in his chest, this was the best possible thing you could have said. because at least it reminded him to keep both feet on the ground. reminded him that what you were suggesting were just that. sleeping.

“i know,” he repeated. and he did. he did know. he did. but even then, it would be impossible for him to keep his feelings under wraps when he’d have you so close that he could smell you. touch you if he just reached out. there was simply no way. when even the thought of you in his bed in the next room could do things to him. he didn’t even dare imagine what it would do to him to be right there next to you. then you stepped back, averting your gaze. the hold you had around yourself tightened slightly, and when you spoke, tobio felt his whole world crumble.

“does it really repulse you that much to simply sleep next to me?”

“what? no! no, that’s not it.” tobio stepped forward. hands itching to reach out. to grab you. to hold you. to– but he didn’t. because was scared. scared what would happen. how you’d react if he did. how he would react if he held you close to his chest. how–

“okay. so what's the issue?” you said, voice now hardened into something firmer. and when you looked at him, your eyes matched your tone. he couldn’t be sure if you were mad. or frustrated. or scolding him like a child. probably the latter, he ruefully had to admit. “just give me one good reason and i’ll drop it.”

“i–” he swallowed. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t.

“you don’t have any, am i right?” you asked, when he didn’t continue. he looked at the floor, unable to meet your gaze when you carried on. “i just don’t want you ruining your body and your sleep by staying on the couch because of me. we’re just going to be sleeping. people can sleep next to each other without it having to mean anything. i’m not taking no for an answer this time!”

“okay,” he said. defeated. and honestly, it wasn’t like he wasn’t happy to sleep in his own bed instead of the couch. he was. but he was also scared, even as he finally caved. “okay. i get it. we can share.”

and that was how he ended up in bed with you. his childhood crush. but not just that. the woman he was still very much in love with. his sister’s best friend too. and he was sure, absolutely certain, that this night would be his last. or maybe he’d already had his last and this was some peculiar amalgamation between heaven and hell, designed just for him.

you looked so peaceful while you slept. tobio’s gaze traced the features of your sleeping face. the way your lips parted slightly. your eyelids softly closed. the way your eyelashes fanned out over your cheekbones, and how the crease between your eyebrows smoothed out entirely. it was definitely heaven, that was for sure. but even though you were right there, looking like all of his dreams come true, he couldn’t touch you. couldn’t kiss youz couldn’t breathe you in. couldn’t put his arms around you. worse yet, he couldn’t even think about you. because thinking about you, would bring him nothing but trouble. so torturous hell it was indeed too.

it was safe to say, that tobio would not be getting much sleep that night. he felt fidgety, and his brain kept spinning, and spinning, and spinning, and spinning. more than once did he close his eyes, hoping to drift off, and more than once he found himself watching you with tired, aching eyes. he was tired. so tired. but yet, he couldn’t calm down. for what felt like hours, he just watched you, unnervingly aware of his own breathing. his body. and yours. all to aware of how the bed moved whenever he did, even the slightest of shifting his position. seconds, minutes and hours to tick by painfully slow, but at one point, he closed his eyes and flitted off into a light sleep.

something pressed against tobio’s front. something warm. something that smelled nice. you. his eyes opened wide when he remembered where he was. or rather who was here with him. your back was pressed against him and his arm draped around your middle. you must’ve turned around while he’d slept, and somehow you’d ended up in his arms. you were right there. right there. and you shifted against him, pressing further up against the length of his body. and the length of something else. the sensation all making him suck in a breath, that he quickly tried to disguise out of fear that it would wake you up.he should move. he should let go. shoot back. or maybe even shake you, and allow you do move away from him. but then you nestled even further against him and he couldn’t. he really should. but he couldn’t. not entirely. but he could loosen his grip at the very least. let happen what would happen. if you stayed, you stayed. if you moved, you moved. that was a nice compromise, he convinced himself. but truly, he simply just wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. and so he did. or he tried, but your groggy voice startled him, all attempts at giving you space, clattering to the floor when you spoke.

“don’t let go. it’s nice.” and it was probably safe to say, that even then, this night, despite being both heaven at hell, was undoubtedly the best night of tobio’s entire life.

[kywaslost]

Just Rest Will You? - Dean Winchester

A/N: Ahh, how I miss writing for Supernatural. Definitely discovered I can’t write as well for this fandom as I can for others, but here I am! I’m writing at least one fanfic for every character I’ve ever written for (with a few exceptions) because why not! Dean Winchester is story #3!

“How’re they doing Sam?” Dean asked harshly as his foot pressed the pedal of the Impala further down. “Sam?!” There was a whimper, then a groan, coming from the back seat. Dean’s eyes furrowed in worry. “Hang in there Y/N. We’re almost to the hospital.” 

    “They’re losing a lot of blood,” Sam answered, pressing his flannel harder against your wound. “Stay with us, Y/N. You’ll be ok.”

    And they were right. When you arrived at the hospital the doctors kept you overnight. They gave you a blood transfusion and stitched you up. With the assurance of Sam and Dean, they let you go home. You were miserable, though. You were stuck either in your bedroom or the living room. The brothers wouldn’t let you do anything, even research. You were allowed to read, but that was it. No case searches, or anything that would cause you stress. 

    What the brothers didn’t know was that not doing anything stressed you out more than any hunt ever has. You felt useless, laying around while Sam and Dean searched for anything that went bump in the night. You tried to get up and move around. Searching for books to read but they forced you to lay down and let them do it all for you.

    One night it was just you and Dean. Sam went out to get groceries and pick up dinner, leaving on the couch in the library and Dean sitting at the table. You had a hard time standing still, however, and it was driving Dean insane. You tried several times to stand and browse the shelves, or go to the kitchen for a drink, but he stopped you every time. 

    “Quit moving around,” Dean griped from the table. You were trying to take a nap, but you were so anxious you couldn’t sit still. You kept moving around, rolling over or sitting up every minute. “Just go to sleep already.”

    “I can’t--” you were cut off by a sharp pain in your side where your stitches were. Then you felt blood running down your side.

    “That’s why,” Dean said with a sigh, rushing over to you. He lifted up your shirt to assess the damage. “You pulled your stitches.” He stood. “I’ll be back.” Dean returned a few moments later with a first aid kit, instructing you to lie down so he could patch you up.

    You pulled your stitches again the day after, only this time Sam was with you. He was letting you help him cook. When you reached up in the cabinet, you felt the same stinging pain in your side. Sam had to restitch them.

    Dean confronted you that night while he was helping you to bed. “Why can’t you just take it easy and rest?” he asked, throwing your blanket over you. “You're driving me insane, baby.”

    You looked away from him. “You don’t get it.”

    “What do I not get?” He sat down beside you. 

    “I hate feeling helpless,” you confessed, tears welling in your eyes a bit. “I can’t do anything except lay around while you and Sam work on saving the world.”

    Dean placed a hand on your shoulder. “Well, you can’t get any better if you keep injuring yourself.” His thumb rubbed against your skin gently. “I get that you want to get back to work, but tearing your stitches is only slowing you down. Sam and I are just trying to look out for you.”

    You sniffled, then nodded. “I know, but I don’t like feeling like this.”

    “Scoot over,” Dean instructed. You did as asked, watching as he slid under the covers and laid down beside you. His arms wrapped around you gently, carefully avoiding your wound. “You’re not helpless, Y/N.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “Now get some rest, and take it easy. You’ll be back in shape in no time, I promise.”

[yurozo]

a study in silence (fenhawke)

(e) fenris is selfish for loving hawke the way he does, but can't help but forever remain in her orbit. circling in her presence, but never getting close enough to taste it. he's simply accepted that hawke is something that will always remain out of his reach, until she reaches for him first. fem!hawke and fenris romance, in the moments between.

1. Fenris lingers in the Hawke mansion for far longer than usual, lounging near the fireplace in relative silence. Marian and him were never ones for rushing through a good bottle of wine; it was always an unspoken rule between them, even when they could rarely agree on anything. He nurses the wine glass with an uncharacteristic languidness while he pretends not to notice the way Hawke is watching him out of the corner of her eye. He watches her just as sneakily in turn, at how her legs stretch out on the couch opposite him and how her arm flexes when she lifts her glass.

He feels a sort of shaky relief that he’s performing in the act of indulging something after all the years of having nothing. They have that in common, he supposes. Hawke tries to break the silence, chattering on about some recent adventure of theirs that Fenris had definitely been on. Regardless, Fenris lets her go on, watching her with a keen eye and a curled lip that looks suspiciously fond. Despite the fact he’s a man usually prone to quiet, his demeanor always stone and sly, Fenris finds a particular calmness in her endless discussions of whatever comes to her head. Ultimately, Fenris is a weak man only for her, in the way she provides a form of relief for him– Fenris can simply sit and enjoy her endless meandering and take sips out of her glass when she pretends she’s not looking.

“Are you staying the night?” Hawke breaks the lull in her story, looking over at him with an expression Fenris can’t decipher.

“I suppose.” Fenris answers, still staring down at his glass. “The walk is far too long to make at this time of night.”

Hawke snorts at that. “Ah, yes. Walking to the other end of the street too much of a labor?”

“Exactly.” There’s a bit of a sly grin on his face. “Not after this much wine.”

Fenris doesn’t want to think about how much of a habit he’s made of staying the night at her place, sleeping stiffly in her armchair and trying desperately not to think about what she looks like in her bed. That every single time he will lie and tell her that sleeping there was comfortable, and the smile that she gives him will ultimately ease the ache in his muscles. The knowledge of Hawke in clothes other than her armor is enough to keep him out of the bedroom, because Fenris knows deep down he does not have enough self-control to be a gentleman about it. And knowing Hawke, she’s most likely sprawled out under her sheets, her dog curled up at her feet. The thought makes him smile anyways.

“You can sleep up in my room if you like.” Hawke’s voice lowers, and she looks away from him to stare down at her hands. “I do hate to see you sleeping on the chair like that.”

There’s a long silence that stretches between them, one that feels different than the others. It’s like a thick fog that settles on Fenris’ shoulders, clouding his better judgment. It’s a line that they’ve never dared to cross, despite their budding friendship over the years. Sure, Fenris has dragged her back home after a particularly tough venture outside of the city, or more often than not back from The Hanged Man. Despite this, he had never dared to cross the threshold into her bedroom. It felt private, like a barrier that always kept their friendship from developing into something more.

But then again, Fenris is a weak, weak man.

“Alright.” He answers, taking another sip of his wine. “I don’t believe the dog will fit on the bed with us.”

Hawke laughs. “He can survive sleeping on the ground for one night.”

They head up to the bedroom minutes later, once the bottle of wine has been thoroughly indulged. Fenris follows at her heels like a puppy, his fingertips lightly tapping against his thigh. Hawke pays no mind to it, opening the door for the both of them and gesturing to him to walk in first. Fenris takes a deep breath, and passes the threshold.

The first thing he notices is that the room is more sparse than he expected. There’s very little personal belongings in her room, save for a journal and scattered pieces of armor. Hawke had never been one for keeping things for herself, often being annoyingly generous with her gift-giving. He had been at the receiving end of it far too many times for him to count.

He lets Hawke climb into bed first while he takes off the remaining pieces of his armor. Fenris takes his time carefully placing it into the corner of the room, waiting for Hawke to change her mind. She doesn’t, and instead watches him undress with a sly grin on her face. He gives her a slightly scolding look, and she dramatically turns her head with a smile.

“Enjoying the view?” He climbs into bed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Just admiring the Maker-given gifts.” She smiles back, settling under the covers.

Fenris lets out a light scoff, turning to face her. “I didn’t take you for an Andrastian.”

“I’m not.” Hawke answers simply, facing him as well. “But some sights almost make you believe.”

Fenris knows that part is true, at least. The sight of her once again, of Hawke lounging in her bed in something other than the armor he normally sees her in is enough to make even the most sadistic man believe in something more. Something pure and unbidden that Fenris is just self-hating enough to believe he will never deserve. Hawke had always been something that felt just outside of his grasp– humble enough to humor him with their friendship, but always too good for him to have. He’s thought about running away, about leaving Kirkwall and Hawke behind for good, but Fenris is selfish. There is no better fitting punishment for a man like him; to want something so badly, to hold it and feel it in his arms, and know that he is never going to be worthy of it. It’s a constant push and pull, a tease of something more without ever crossing the boundary.

There’s that silence again. That forgiving, comfortable silence between them that Fenris is too familiar with.

Hawke reaches over, unthinking, and presses a soft fingertip to Fenris’ face. He doesn’t move, too frightened to move, as her hand slowly cups the edge of his jaw. Another moment passes, his gaze crooked, before he wraps his hand around her wrist. His movements are slow– careful, like approaching an animal you wouldn’t want to scare away. Fenris is many things, cold and cruel and heartless; but here, in this moment, he’s vulnerable. He’s gentle.

It should stop being a surprise at this point, Fenris thinks, that she can so easily convince anyone to bend to her whims.

It still doesn’t prevent how his heartbeats trips and doubles over itself as she shuffles closer to him, the warmth of her thigh sinking into his skin. Ordinarily, he would move away. He’s too familiar with affection being used as a form of control, too familiar with the cold sting of a lash against his back. But this feels different, her hands are soft and warm and everything that Fenris is not.

There are certain things in the catch of a breath, in the flex of a muscle that had always entranced him. An unspoken language, one that says so much with so little sound. For all the talking Hawke does, she can appreciate Fenris’ silence in a way few can. In the moments before, Hawke looks down at Fenris’ wrist and studies the skin there– tanned and thin, his lilac veins too close to the surface. Nothing about Fenris had ever seemed fragile until now, when he’s peering at her with too large eyes and a strange sort of vulnerability.

Hawke leans forward and presses her lips to his. There’s no spark, no fireworks, no final piece fitting into the puzzle. It’s peaceful, and it’s gentle, and it’s silent. There’s no sound in the room except for the light puff of air that escapes Fenris’ nostrils, and the soft sigh that leaves Hawke’s mouth.

Perhaps the silence isn’t so bad.

In a moment, it changes. What was once gentle turns into something more. Flurried hands pull at his chest, greedy and wanting. Because her every whim is his purpose, and because his purpose is somewhat clouded and inhibited– Fenris complies. Under the endless staccato refrain of you should not be doing this and Hawke deserves better, Fenris' heart feels like it’s alive for the first time. Everything about this feels good, and he is selfish to the core.

“Curse you, Hawke.” He finally grumbles, their lips just inches from each other. She looks at him curiously, but the glimmer in her eyes gives her intentions away.

“That’s not the common reaction I get from people after kissing them.” Hawke laughs; bright and cheerful and happy. “What brought that on?”

“You made me need you.” He whispers, looking into her eyes with that look of vulnerability again. Hawke’s hand wanders to the back of his neck, and she pulls him in for another kiss.

“The feeling is mutual.” She smiles against his lips, and this time it’s Fenris that moves in first.

When he walks out the door that night, he leaves his heart behind the threshold, and tries not to cry at his first unselfish deed.

2. The silence is different after that. It’s stilted and awkward, and everyone else has begun to notice. Even Hawke is uncharacteristically silent, in a way that only Fenris can hear. They’re walking through Darktown, trying to find another damned sewer to crawl through when Varric finally says something.

“So, are you going to spill the details?” He asks, looking up at Fenris with a wry smile. Fenris only looks back at him with what can only be described as an expression of scathing anger, and Varric holds his hands up in surrender. “Just need some details for the novel, you know how much my readers love the tragic romance.”

“There is no romance to speak of.” He answers quickly, perhaps a little too quickly for his liking. Varric glances over at Hawke, then at Fenris, and his expression turns thoughtful. Fenris scowls. “Whatever you are writing in your head, stop it.”

Varric simply laughs, and re-adjusts his crossbow. “Alright, broody. I’ll drop it. But I care about Hawke. Try not to let her suffer for too much longer, yeah?”

Fenris looks ahead, and pretends he didn’t hear him.

3. He can tell Hawke is suffering. He can see it in the tears building in her eyes, her sluggish movements. The walk back from Foundry is silent again, and none of the other party members have the courage to speak. Fenris watches Hawke walk into her mansion with a conflicted look on her face, before Varric pats him firmly on the back.

“Go talk to her.” Varric’s voice is firmer than usual. “It’s best if it’s you.”

Fenris nods at Varric in thanks, and opens the front door. The moment it shuts, the first thing he notices is the lack of silence. He can hear Hawke crashing about her room, dropping her armor on the floor with a loud clang.

He heaves a deep sigh, and walks up the stairs. The banging stops.

Fenris is starting to have second thoughts once he reaches her bedroom. Thoughts that he shouldn’t entertain when he sees her sitting at the foot of the bed, the very same bed that they had shared one night months ago. These thoughts were dangerous and impossible, and Fenris tries to suppress the feelings lingering in his chest. It’s not what Hawke needs, and above all, Hawke is what matters. Especially now, when she needs someone so desperately.

He lingers by the doorway. “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”

Hawke continues to look down at her hands, at the blood that still stains her fingertips. She hasn’t bothered to wash it off, and Fenris has the sinking feeling that she’s not going to for a while yet.

“It was all my fault. If I had been faster-” Fenris cuts her off before she can continue.

“You are looking for a forgiveness that I cannot give to you.” He sits down next to her, just close enough that their thighs brush against each others. Any more contact would cause Fenris to crumble, so he limits it to only what he can handle. Only to what Hawke needs, and nothing more. A line in the sand, drawn by Fenris in a desperate attempt to keep himself from giving into his selfish desire once more.

“There is no forgiveness for people like me.” She answers sadly, and Hawke’s face carries that same vulnerability that Fenris once showed her. People like us, Fenris wants to say, before he stops himself. If anyone deserves forgiveness, it’s her. The people’s champion, pushing the same boulder up the same hill countless times and hoping for a different result. Once again, they’re the same in that regard.

“There is nothing you could have done.” While his answer is blunt, both of them know it's true. This is the way Kirkwall works, circling the same tragedy and suffering like water entering a drain. The city lets it sink into itself, before spitting it back out with more tremendous amounts of force. It’s unfair that it has to be her, the person who has given everything to this terrible city, only to receive nothing but tragedy in return. The city does not pick and choose which ones are worthy of something better, no matter how much Fenris wishes it could be so.

“Perhaps.” She replies, so soft that it hurts. Fenris sighs, and like he’s done it a hundred times before, covers her hand with his. Her touch is warm, just as she is, and Fenris pointedly does not comment on the tears that splatter on his hand.

It’s Hawke that turns her palm up, lacing their fingers together. When Fenris casts a sidelong glance at her, she’s staring ahead at the wall like nothing is happening. Before he can do something incredibly stupid and out of character for him, he squeezes her hand once and lets go. He stumbles towards the door, ignoring the way he can feel her eyes on him.

“I’m here if you need me, Hawke.” He says, right before he closes the door. “I always am.”

When he finally shuts himself away, Fenris stands in the hallway for a moment too long and tries to force air into his lungs. Hawke’s expression is branded into his mind, the way that she cried and crumpled before him. In all the years that he’s known her, he’s never seen her so weak.

Everything ever written, all the books that Fenris forced himself to read after Hawke’s appalled shock at his lack of education cannot describe this feeling in words. Fenris was not someone made to love, he was made to hurt and follow orders, and this type of tenderness is entirely unbecoming to someone like him. But Hawke is someone made of love– it pours over her every word, laced in every tender affection she so freely gives.

He wants to give that to her, help fill the chalice that Hawke empties so easily.

But that was before– before Hawke had crawled her way into his heart in that fussy and incongruent way of hers that Fenris loathes so much. Before he kissed her, before he broke her heart, and before he left his heart in that damned bedroom.

4. Isabela is staring at him again. An unsettling and calculating gaze that’s sending shivers up his back. He can tell Hawke is pretending not to notice, keeping her gaze forward and towards their destination.

“What are you staring at?” He finally says, glaring at Isabela with all the

“Trying to see something.” She smiles, and Fenris can just barely see the glimmer of amusement in her eye. Isabela’s up to something, and after years of knowing her, he knows when she’s about to stir up trouble for nothing other than her own amusement. “Anders and her have been getting close, don’t you think?”

Fenris says nothing, but the slight twitch in his eyebrow gives him away. Isabela chuckles to herself, and turns her gaze forward. When he finally responds, his voice is tinged with the slightest hint of jealousy. “What Hawke does is none of our business.”

Isabela largely ignores him, continuing her train of thoughts much to his chagrin. “I see him lurking out of her house at all hours of the night. Always with that sly look on his face.”

His eyes flicker over to Anders in pure unadulterated anger, and Isabela nearly doubles over in laughter at the cross look on his face. Over the years, Fenris had become increasingly obvious with his affections, and Varric had made it a regular habit to mention the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that always breaks through his stoic exterior at the mere mention of her name. He can feel the energy humming through his veins at the thought of Hawke with anyone else but him, because Fenris is selfish and terrible and wicked.

Out of the corner of his eye, breaking his unrelenting scowl in Ander’s direction, he can see Hawke look back at him with a concerned look on her face. He softens at that, and his markings fade to a dull hum. It only makes Isabela smile wider, at the way Fenris becomes so uncharacteristically weak from only a glance in her direction. The very thought of her with Anders, of him touching her the way he once did, is enough to bellow the pit of jealousy flaming in his stomach. This spirited pursuit of inactivity ends here, he decides, and follows Hawke a bit closer.

5. Driven by a morbid curiosity, and perhaps the lingering feeling of jealousy seeded and nurtured by Isabela’s comments, Fenris begins to drop hints. Increasingly expensive bottles of wine that happen to show up on Hawke’s kitchen table with no warning, lingering touches on her back after an arduous battle. He rubs a droplet of blood of her cheek with his thumb, his expression filled with an aching tenderness reserved only for her. He lets their legs press together in the cramped seats of The Hanged Man, shallowly excused to his friends by having a glass too many of whatever swill he drank this time.

Hawke had also drank too much this time, it seems, by the way she leans her shoulder into him with a casualness that Fenris envies. Every move, every dance of affection was always carefully calculated by him, and yet Hawke touches him like they had known each other for millenia. They eventually get shooed out of the bar, with Hawke hanging off his shoulder and reeking of still blood and ale.

She rambles on once again about something Fenris is only half-listening to, his mind preoccupied by thoughts that are once again impossible and dangerous. The curve of her lips, the arch of her back. The white-hot contact of her arm around his shoulder that sears into his skin like a brand.

“My point is-” Hawke speaks a little too loudly for his taste, especially considering that her lips are right next to his ear. “My point is– they obviously love each other. I don’t understand why they don’t just buck up and say it.”

“It is seldom ever that easy.” He answers simply, holding her waist a little tighter. Love had never been Fenris’ particular forte, no matter the amount of terribly cheesy novels Varric makes him read now. It is something that will remain locked inside of his chest, dampened by his terrible and unselfish desire to see her happy. Happier than anything a broken former slave could ever give her. “And Isabela’s not particularly the sentimental type.”

Hawke rolls her eyes, and sighs deeply. “I know. I know, and yet I want them to be happy. Love is so… stupidly complicated.”

Fenris can understand that, at least. The ardent and unrelenting desire to see someone they care for truly content. “Love often ruins people. She is right to be cautious.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is to love someone.” Hawke answers, her voice softer, less slurred. “Like that, I mean. I never thought I would be one of those sappy romantics, and yet-”

Fenris looks at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to ignore the way his heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. Hawke’s silent for a long moment as they stumble through the streets of Hightown at a leisurely pace.

Hawke looks at him, hiccups once, and smiles crookedly. “I like the new sword. It suits you.”

“Thanks.” He shakes his head, fighting the grin rising to his face.

They make it to her front door, and the moment between them vanishes into the night air. He leads her into her house, where they play cards and he lets Hawke believe she won fairly. All he can do is try to shove down the image of her smiling at him so openly to the back of his mind.

6. Fenris is pacing around her mansion, muttering half-impassioned Tevene curses into the open air. Hawke simply watches him stalk around the room, sitting in the armchair with a half-empty bottle of wine.

“Festei bei uno canavarum.” He mutters angrily, the markings tainting his skin casting the room in an eerie glow.

“No need to go overboard with the thanks.” She teases half-heartedly, tilting her head curiously at him. Fenris was particularly known for these random bouts of anger, but this was different. He was mourning, broken by a life lost. Fenris only looks at her scoldingly, but says nothing in return.

“Hadriana is dead. I should be free.” He finally says, his tone still laced with anger. The energy thrumming through his veins is running too hot to dampen, and Fenris lets that anger simmer off him in waves. Hawke doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by this, sipping at her wine while he storms about the room. Suddenly he stops, his gaze fixed on the fireplace with a withering expression. “I should be happy.”

“You still can be. This is not the end of everything.” Hawke answers, leaning forward slightly in her chair. “Danarius is not all that you are.”

Fenris still doesn’t move, his eyes still lingering on the ashes flickering out of the fireplace. “It feels like it.”

“I know. But this is a chance for you to start over.” She stands up, walking over to him to lean against the wall. He only looks at her briefly before the flames feel like they’re licking up his ankles, and he forces his gaze back to the dying fire. “To have a new life.”

The phrase ‘You could leave this all behind’ is left noticeably unsaid. Fenris doesn’t want to leave Kirkwall, the thought only ever crosses his mind for brief moments before being quickly stamped by his aching fondness for this place. Particularly for one person within it.

“I don’t want a new life.” I don’t want to leave you, is what he doesn’t say. She understands it anyway. “I thought I would be free.”

“You are free, Fenris.” He also notices the way she doesn’t use his old name, the one whispered to him in Hadriana’s dying breath. Hawke is looking at him with that expression that he once again cannot describe. “You always have been.”

Fenris watches as the flames flicker out, leaving behind only flaring embers. “This freedom tastes like ashes.”

“I know.” Hawke answers, reaching her hand out to gently interlace her fingers with his. “But this time it’s going to be different.”

7. It’s another night that he’s lingering about in her presence, nursing another expensive bottle of wine that he not-so-secretly dropped at her place. He had been ecstatic at her invitation to drink it together, using the wine as an excuse to ensure Anders will not be making any more night-time visits to her mansion. Hawke is tittering about the kitchen, complaining once again that he doesn’t eat properly, that his mansion is a mess, that he really ought to stay with her while they at least clean the corpses off the floor.

Fenris watches her with a keen interest, fingers tapping on the wine bottle in an uneven rhythm. “I think it adds character.”

“Character.” She scoffs, turning to face him. “The smell alone– I truly have no idea how you can even bear to step foot within it..”

“Because it’s mine.” He answers, his brows slightly raised. There’s a slight pride in taking something from his former master, in desecrating it to the point of abandonment. A property of Danarius’ that Fenris can completely destroy with very little consequences.

“At least clean it a little.” Hawke sighs, leaning back against the counter. “Just the entrance, so I don’t have to smell rotting corpses when I need to come get you.”

“For you, I will.” He grins slightly, taking another sip of wine. For her, he would clean the whole damn place. Get on his knees and scrub every inch if it makes her happy. But he doesn’t say that, just looks up at her with that slight grin he knows she loves to see so much.

“Good. Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to spend the night there.” This time, her tone is lighter, more teasing. The comment gives him pause, his fingers resuming that endless tapping on the wine bottle. The silence grows heavy between them.

“We never did talk about it.”

“About what?” She takes a step forward and seats herself across from him. Their knees slightly touch against each other under the table, but Fenris doesn’t move away this time.

“That night.” He finally says, looking up at her. Her expression crumbles, and he can see the exact moment that she recalls the heartbreak he caused her. The very same expression she wore the night he left, the night he took what he needed from her and left her broken under the covers. The silence closes his mouth and twists at his heart. He loves her in such a vain and terrible way, an ember desperately trying to keep the fire burning no matter how much he tries to be altruistic.

“You never wanted to talk about it.” Hawke looks down at the table, one finger carefully caressing the edge of the wood. She follows the grains delicately, and Fenris tries not to remember the way she had touched him like that once, like something fragile. But he does, and it kills him. “And I never wanted to push.”

“I thought it would be better if you hated me. If I could forget about everything that happened between us, if I could forget-” Fenris pauses, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I ask for it anyway.”

Hawke is still staring down at the table, her brows furrowed. “Remembering isn’t all so bad.”

He knows. Maker, he knows. Despite everything that’s happened, not only between him and Hawke, but with Varania and Danarius and everything else. Memory has brought him a terrible sense of tranquility that makes him uneasy. It’s painful, feels like being burned alive from the inside out, but the pain makes it real. Makes the memory real. “The worst thing is that I remember it.”

“I know.” She answers, finally looking up at him. Fenris looks at her eyes, at the way the light glimmers in them, and feels a part of him come to life. She remembers too, he knows in the way her eyes gaze through him.

“I cannot give you what you deserve. You deserve a lot better than me.” Fenris feels like he’s pleading, coming back to that line in the sand with a damned fortress, armed with cannons and soldiers. “A lot better than this.”

“I love you anyways.” She smiles at him. Stupid, caring, giving Hawke, emptying out what’s left of her just to see him smile. Her hand, once again, reaches out to lay on top of his. “But I need to know why.”

“I thought about what I would say to you. About the answer I would give.” Fenris can’t say the reason why he was so painfully and pathetically in love with someone who showed him a tender kindness when he was never deserving of it. That after seeing the past that made him, molded him into a lyrium-infused cold-blooded killer, he knew letting Hawke go would be the only chance he ever got to warrant her. That he made a stupid decision to try and be a better man, and it hurts her anyways.“I am a coward. The memories it brought up– I am not a man that could show you the love you deserved.”

“And yet?” She questions, her eyes peering up at him curiously. He loathes those eyes, the way it sees through every crack in his barrier so carefully put together by tattooed hands. “There must be a reason you’re bringing this up.”

“And yet I love you anyways.” He answers. “Because I need you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

Fenris lets himself be selfish, for this one long painful moment that sits between them. Love really is a complicated, all-encompassing thing. Fenris hates it, but cherishes the feeling anyways. He swallows the apprehension clawing its way up his stomach, and continues. “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

“Perhaps -” Hawks smiles, her expression going soft. Her fingers lightly curl over his wrist, the same way Fenris had once held her. “Perhaps I’ll hold this over you a little while longer.”

He lightly chuckles at that, and pulls her closer. “Don’t you dare.”

8. They’re laying in bed hours later, his arms wrapped around her waist. This time, he has no thoughts about leaving, no doubts about his place here. It feels right, and Fenris can comfortably sit in the silence with her.

“Do you remember what you said to me? About needing me?” Hawke is the first to speak, as she usually is. Her finger traces light patterns into his chest, nails pressing right at the edges of his markings. They hum lightly at her contact, a pleasant dull sound that reverberates in his chest. It doesn’t hurt this time, nor will it hurt anytime after.

Fenris remembers. He lets the silence speak for him.

“I’ve been thinking about it.” She continues on, trailing down towards his abdomen. “I think we’ve always needed each other.”

He thinks about it, about the ways that they had always sought the other’s presence in their darkest moments. How Hawke held his hand after Leandra, how Fenris paced about her mansion after Varania. Two stars forever in orbit, refusing to keep the distance between them. A blurred line in the sand, washed away and moved inch-by-inch until there was no longer anything standing between them.

“You’re not selfish, Fenris.” Hawke turns to him. “There is nothing about you that my heart won’t accept. I will love you to any end, against all the pain.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Fenris laughs., kissing her once more.

[graneymar]

JUST A FRIEND, PART 2 (Part 1)

SUMMARY: You cut Neymar off after you've come to the realisation that he doesn’t seem to want a serious relationship. The two of you try to move on from one another, but figure out there’s no escaping from your feelings.

WARNINGS: none I think

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader (Kylian as your best friend, Sergio as a flirt)

Now that Kylian found out about what was going on between me and Neymar - and me overhearing him saying that he actually does like me - I've been waiting for Ney to open up about his feelings and finally talk to me about it, but it never happened. I didn’t want to be the first one to speak up. I've already broken my best friends trust just to be with him, so I believed he owed me something.

Realising that Neymar wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, or simply didn't want one, while I got more and more attached to him and the little thing we had, I slowly started distancing myself from him. Whenever he called me to come over, I never was able to tell him no before, but knowing I had to get rid of the feelings I developed for him, it was the only right thing to do. So it happened that we haven’t really met in a month now. Yes, I missed him more than anything but I had to stay strong in order to get over my little crush.

Also, after only three weeks of us not seeing each other, he apparently invited his ex, Bruna Biancardi, to stay at his place in Paris. I loved and hated Bruna at the same time. She was a gorgeous woman, a total sweetheart, but she was with the man I wanted so bad.

Kylian and I were chilling on my couch, casually talking and being on our phones, when I clicked on Brunas instagram story, only to see her and Ney watching a movie together in his bedroom. My heart would’ve probably skipped a hundred of beats if I didn’t get used to these images lately. I instantly locked my phone and threw it onto the couch beside me. Kylian moved his head to look at me. "Are you okay?", he asked. I threw the blanket off of me and got up from the couch. "Yeah. I'll do the laundry", I answered. "Have you already washed my hoodie?" Kylian being my best friend meant occasionally having random sleepovers and him always forgetting some kind of clothing - his shirts, hoodies, socks. He always made sure he left something. Half of my closet was his, actually. "It’s in the dryer", I told him as I was collecting clothes around the apartment. "Hey, wanna do a casino night with Ney tomorrow?" Well, now my heart skipped a beat for sure. "With Ney? Why him?" Stupid question, Y/N, stupid question. Kylian shrugged, "Why not?" How was I supposed to get myself out of this situation without admitting I was heartbroken and cried myself to sleep every night over him? "I don’t know, I was just thinking of Achraf earlier and noticed we didn't hang out in ages. How about we ask him to go with us?" I tried to sound as authentic as possible, but Kylian was no one I could lie to. "You're trying to avoid Neymar, aren’t you?" By letting out a soft but desperate chuckle, I tried to hide the the fact that he just caught me. "No? Why would I try to avoid him?" Kylian rolled his eyes at my answer. "Because he’s seeing Bruna again maybe?" I shook my head from left to right. "Couldn’t care less. You know I love her." "Then let’s go with Ney and Bruna." Oh God, I would love to punch Kylian right into his adorable face in this very moment. "Are you insane? I'm not going to hang out with them after what Neymar and I had. It would be disrespectful towards Bru."

"Oh come on, she probably doesn’t even know about it." I crossed my arms in front of my chest and looked at him in disgust. "Do you think her not knowing about it makes it any better? He’s most probably lying to her, saying how much he missed her, talking about how he didn’t have anyone else because he still loves her oh so much, and you want me to simply sit there and support his lies? No Kyks, won't do that." Kylian first furrowed his eyebrows, but started laughing shortly after. "When did you become such a great fan of Bruna?"

"It doesn’t have anything to do with me supporting Bruna, I believe woman should generally respect and support each other whenever they can. Men fuck up our lives already, no need to make it even harder." He remained silent until he quietly gulped and looked me straight in the eyes. "And you’re sure you’re okay with him seeing her and the thing between you two ending?", he finally asked. No, I wasn’t okay, but I didn’t want Kyks to know. Talking about it wouldn’t make it easier anyway. "I'm fine, trust me", I put on a fake smile, "I just wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be around someone he slept with, so I don't want to put Bruna in such a situation."

"Good, as long as you’re alright, I am too", he proudly grinned at me, "Neymar and Bruna are not together though. They're just attempting to get closer again." "Well, hopefully they do", I murmured.

——————————————————————————

Entering the casino, I instantly caught sight of Achraf. He jumped up from his seat and walked towards Kylian and me, hugging the both of us. "I invited some of the boys, I hope you don’t mind", he told us. Of course, the only one I was looking for was Neymar, but I was obviously relieved when he was nowhere to be found. I sat down between Kylian and Sergio as the boys started gambling.

Half an hour and some glasses of champagne later, the boys all decided to use the bathroom, leaving me and Sergio alone. It has probably been just a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Sergio and I got along very well, we were joking around and realised we had a lot of similar interests. "I’ll never understand how Kylian decided to be just friends with you", Sergio said, causing me to blush. "We've known each other for forever, we're like brother and sister", I explained. Sergio nodded and smiled, "So, do you think Kylian would be fine with me inviting his 'like a sister' to a date?" My mouth almost fell open, I had a hard time finding the words to respond. "Tomorrow, 7pm, I'll pick you up?", he continued. I hesitatingly nodded as my lips slowly formed a small smile.

The main door swung open and from the corner of my eyes, I saw two figures walk up to us. I turned my head to see who it was and lost my breath the moment Neymar and Bruna stood right in front of me. Neymar eyed me up and down, his gaze eventually got stuck at my thigh, where Sergio casually put his hand on. His facial expression was bloody serious, meanwhile Bruna on the other side shined like the sunshine she was. "Y/N, haven’t seen you in such a long time! How’s life?", she asked and stretched out her arms to hug me. I returned the hug. "Couldn’t be better", I replied, coldly staring into Neymars eyes while still embracing Bruna. He shot me a glare and bit his inner cheek before moving his head to look at Sergio. "What about you? Anything new?", I asked Bru smilingly as I pulled away from her.

Neymar and Bruna sat right across from Sergio and me. I felt Ney watching my every move, especially observing how Sergio and I acted towards each other. I didn’t hear him talking or smile at someone for once at least, he seemed to be absolutely pissed off. No lie, I enjoyed him being mad.

"I'll be back in a minute", I excused myself and walked into the ladys bathroom. Not even five seconds later, I saw Ney coming in. "For ladies only", I simply said, not making an effort to even look at him. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?", he spoke up. I shrugged before turning my head to him. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You and Sergio. What is going on between you two?", he asked, slowly raising his voice, his brows furrowed. "That’s none of your concern, Neymar." He obviously didn’t expect me to react this way. "I think I have a right to know." I gasped. Who did he think he was? "Where’d you even get that right from? Your ex girlfriend literally has been with you the whole past week and now it is me that owes you an explanation?", I bursted out, my anger level visibly rising. "Have you ever asked yourself why Bruna is even here? First, you cancel all our meetings. Then you're not answering any of my texts and calls. Now I see you being all over Sergio. So yes, Y/N, I expect you to tell me what the fuck made you act this way." I placed myself right in front of Neymar, tilting my head up to look him directly into his eyes. "Bruna being here with you proves that cutting you off was the only right thing for me to do. I was more than wrong when I thought that whatever we had, I don’t even know how to name it, meant the slightest thing to you", I hissed before walking up to the door in order to get out. "How to name it?", he exclaimed and turned around to look at me again. I just wanted to get out, I couldn’t stand being in a room with him any longer, but I felt tears forming in my eyes, causing me to let go of the door knob and listen to his speech. "I'll tell you how I name it, I'll tell you what it meant to me. And it didn’t mean the slightest thing, it meant everything. I've always wanted you, Y/N, always, from the very first day we met. You were the reason I left Bruna. I would’ve never betrayed Kylian the way we did, but to me, it was worth it, 'cause I had you. Because I had you being the first thing I saw in the morning. Because I thanked God every day when I woke up with you in my arms, playing with your hair until you opened your eyes and smiled at me before hiding your face under the blanket. Because I was finally looking forward to come home every day after training, knowing you are there waiting for me. Because I couldn’t stop myself from watching you peacefully sleep every night, not understanding what I did to have someone as perfect as you in my life. Because I love the way your eyes light up when they look into mine; your cute grunt when you laugh too hard; the fact that you still cry after watching Titanic 20 times. Simply because I love everything about you. Simply because I love you, Y/N. Yes, we started our relationship the wrong way, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t change a thing - expect the situation we are in right now." At this point, endless tears streamed down my face. Tears of joy, of happiness, but also of overwhelmingness. "Please, just say something", he quietly spoke up after seconds of silence. I sobbed before turning around and staring right into these beautiful hazel eyes. Looking at the him made me cry even harder. Finally, I quickly walked up to him and crashed my lips into his. "I love you too, Neymar", I mumbled inbetween the kisses.