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randombush3 · 6 months

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revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

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

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

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

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she misses you as soon as you pull away.

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

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

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

“Leah.”

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

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

“Is that a question?”

You blink. “I’m not sure.”

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

Do you want to?

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

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

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that.

“Course not,” Leah lies.

You let it convince the both of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels… good.

Liberating.

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

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

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

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

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

She wipes her mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel safe.

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

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

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

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

“Well, you know that–”

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

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice.

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

She had not expected this from herself.

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

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30.

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

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

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It’s just like therapy.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

“Do what, my daughter?”

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

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

“I think you know the answer to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice.

The realisation is crushing.

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

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

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

Alexia is so very lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

“You have a lot to account for.”

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

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

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

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re a busy person, after all.

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

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

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, they’ve broken up.”

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

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

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

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

“I heard you were in London?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pray this goes well.

It does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Im-men-lee?”

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

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

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

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood.

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

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

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

The silence is awkward.

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

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

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

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

“She’s a very good person.”

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

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

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

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

“Hola,” you say shyly.

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

You try very hard not to burst into tears.

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

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I don’t care.

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

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

This is not a second chance.

This is a lift home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, London was great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps it never will.

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

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

“Lela, me tengo que ir.”

“Pero–”

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

It starts off innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re back to playing?”

“Sí.”

A doorway conversation.

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

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

“We play the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She opens the next bottle for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In Highgate?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia knows you well.

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

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

“Please.”

And she really doesn’t make you beg.

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

Parted legs and soft moans.

She slots herself between your thighs.

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

Your fingers repay the favour.

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

“Is it in the same place?”

You nod, panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re glad, you’re really glad.

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

And then it all comes crashing down.

Everything.

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “Okay.”

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

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”

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

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

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

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

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

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

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But now you are ripped down the middle.”

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

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

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

…

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

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

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

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

“God, you are such an idiot.”

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

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

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

“I think we are destined for each other.”

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

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

Is that an understatement?

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so, Alexia.”

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

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

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

Is this how Pandora felt?

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

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

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

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

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

...

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

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso fanfics #randombush3 #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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pinkthrone445 · 10 months

Text

~TAXI DRIVER~ (Smut)

Happy holidays yall! Here's Smutanta to make your horny wishes come true. Hope you enjoy it.

Pairing:Larissa Weems x Reader

Warnings:of course. Mention of cheating, explicit sex, oral, fingering, thighs riding.

Gender: Smut with plot.

Summary:Your wife was cheating on you and your life was miserable, you never thought you would find what you needed when at 3 in the morning a blonde stopped your taxi to take her home.

(If anyone who speaks Spanish knows what song I got this idea from, I love you)

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Another night, another long and tedious night driving your car, just a few trips in the whole day, you had barely made a few bucks. You always imagined that your life would be different, a better job, a well-formed family and a healthy, stable relationship with a faithful wife. But no, instead you were driving your taxi, at 2:40 at night, your wife was surely with someone else in a bar, with her back against a wall or against a person. In your glove compartment where papers from lawyers processing your divorce, wanting to get away from you the little you had earned in your life, wanting to take everything away from you to give it to her, to your wife, using your 'emotional neglect' as an excuse to justify the times she had cheated on you. Your hands clenched the steering wheel angrily, your knuckles turned white and you started clenching your jaw, you had so much tension in your body, you just needed a moment of peace, laughter and quiet, a moment to clear your head with someone, with a friend or something, you would if it weren't for your friends siding with her when you told them she had cheated on you, saying that it was to be expected because she was too much for you and that you hadn't taken care of her as you should.

So deep in thought were you that you barely noticed the woman waving you to stop your car, if it weren't for the fact that she was a tall, flashy woman, you might not have seen her.

She was a tall, pale and beautiful blonde, wearing a rather short sequined dress with a neckline in the back that reached very close to glory it self. The woman got into your car sighing angrily as she settled into the back seat, a black tear with mascara rolling down her cheek, at the same time the rearview mirror invited you to look at her calves, although you could and saw a little more than that.

It was 3 o'clock at night while you were zigzagging through the streets of the town following her instructions, her voice was deep and intoxicating, she told you that her name was Larissa while crossing her legs and taking out of her bag a strange cigarette, one of those that make you laugh, you offered her fire in a hurry while your hand trembled a little. You usually didn't let people smoke in your car, but you couldn't say no to that woman, especially as you watched as her lips delicately wrapped around the cigarette and her long fingers held it firmly as she took a good puff.

After taking a bit of courage, you decided to start a conversation with the intimidating woman

-"May I ask why are you crying?" - you whispered looking at her in the rearview mirror

-"Because of an idiot guy, who thinks that because he is rich he can come and cheat on me with another woman"-She spat with hatred in her voice and you laughed at the familiarity of the situation

-"Don't be sad because of that, count with my help if you're looking for revenge"-You answered and she smiled at you, even her smile was perfect, her red and seductive lips giving you a perfect smile. What were you trying to do? What does a taxi driver do trying to heal a wound? What does a taxi driver do in front of a woman like her? What does a taxi driver do when they dream of sleeping with their passenger? You started to wonder, it seems like you were deep in your thoughts for a long time, because she started talking again

-"I saw him hugging and kissing a younger girl, he was all over her and she was all over him and his wallet" -she continued telling you as you watched her intensely in the mirror. You should be thankful that the streets were quite empty, because otherwise you would have already bumped into someone because of how little attention you were paying to the street, very intoxicated watching the blonde speak. She would smile at you in the mirror and sit on her side giving you a great view of her long legs, you were dumbed down with the mirror a little foggy-"Turn in the corner, we'll go to my house, after a couple of tequilas we'll see what happens about your revenge offer"- she said in a seductive voice and without thinking for a second, you did as she asked.

Her house was immense, it stood out among the buildings of the city, its great gates gave way to an earthly paradise. Upon entering, a large carpet and a beautiful fireplace caught your eye, the house was comfortably warm, very welcome after having been all night in the cold of winter.

The blonde removed her expensive coat very gracefully and hung it in the closet at the entrance, carefully she stood behind you removing your jacket from your shoulders. A shiver ran through your body as you felt her hands on your body, you had been very distracted looking at the house that you hadn't noticed when she approached.

With one of her long fingers, she ran along the contour of your jaw and then walked into the dining room, making you follow her without saying a word. You looked like a street dog that would unconditionally follow anyone who gave her affection, it was as if she had a magnetic field of her own and you couldn't help but feel the attraction and follow her wherever she was. The blonde prepared two delicate glasses of an expensive whiskey with some ice and handed you one smiling and then went to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. No doubt the woman was surprised when instead of sitting next to her, you sat on the carpet on your legs, right in front of her, at her feet. She caressed your cheek again, pleased by your actions, her gaze was intense and penetrating, while all you could do was watch her with puppy dog eyes, overwhelmed to hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

The woman emptied her glass in one gulp, a couple of drops escaped from the side of her mouth and fell down the neckline of her dress, carefully you leaned on your knees to be at her level and licked the path that the liquor had made, a mixture of liquor and the intoxicating aroma of her mixed on your taste buds, when you reached the valley of her breasts, you gave her a little bite, earning a choked moan from her. Larissa took your hair in her hand and pulled it a little making you look into her eyes, burning you again with her intense gaze

-"Strip, now"-She commanded you with her voice thicker than moments before, her eyes were also darker than the first time you saw her. You started to take off your clothes quickly, but she grunted in disapproval-"Slow, put on a show for me sweetheart"-She smiled seeing the surprise in your eyes, without a doubt she was taking the reins of the moment and that pleased her. Slowly you removed your shoes, continued with your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one without taking your eyes off her. When you dropped the garment to the floor, her gaze focused on your chest and abdomen, Licking her lips, she ordered you to take off your pants, which you did as well. When you where in your underwear alone, she made you kneel again at her feet on the soft carpet. Under your intense gaze, she wrinkled her dress at her waist ,smiling as you sighed at the sight of her legs-"Go ahead Doll... Eat"

When she gave you permission, you got closer to her and stood between her legs smiling and kissing her knee and thighs, grabbed one of her long legs and put it on your shoulder making her keep them apart, you gave small bites to her thighs, followed by your tongue and soft kisses. The blonde moved restlessly under your kisses, even more so when your kisses climbed closer to where she needed you most. The scent of her skin was intoxicating and addictive, you could spend hours kissing her soft, flawless skin. Her legs were so white that they almost looked transparent, some veins standing out on her velvety skin, a void canvas that needed more decoration . You couldn't help your impulses and made her a hickey that stood out a lot on her thighs, very close to her crotch. The blonde let out a little scream and pulled your hair again, making you look at her

-"Behave... Ask permission next time or you won't like what will happen next..."-Her teeth were clenched almost as much as her grip on your hair, after a few seconds she let go of you and you took her underwear with your teeth, taking it off little by little, she helped you by lifting her hips so you could remove it completely. A thread of her desire stretched from her crotch to her underwear making you salivate. When you took them off completely, you were left admiring how wet she was, no doubt you were doing something right that she liked very much. You took a second to admire her features, her chest rising with need and desire, agitated and restless, her nipples standing pressed against the fabric of her dress, the veins on her neck stood out against her skin as they did on her thighs, her hair a little messy compared to how combed it had been as soon as you met her. When she connected her gaze with yours, you gave a long lick starting from her entrance to her clit, her head immediately tilted back letting out a deep moan, moan that built up desire between your legs too. Gently you began to make your tongue dance on her clitoris, and then went down to her entrance and back up to repeat the process, the blonde's legs were shaking, specially the one on your shoulder. When you gave a strong suction against her button, the woman raised her hips against your mouth to get closer to you, taking advantage, you put your hands on her ass, squeezing her buttocks and sticking her closer to you, devouring her with more desire and less restriction and control. Her moans became louder and erratic, as did your movements against her.

-"That's it, that's right doll, don't stop... Faster"-She murmured between moans and grunts, your tongue found her entrance and very easily settled inside her, while your nose pressed against her clit. You couldn't breathe much between her legs, but at that moment your survival wasn't as essential as it was to see her come undone on your face. The blonde's hands found your head making you stick impossibly closer to her. In desperation you moved your tongue faster, with less and less air in your lungs but more force in your tongue and movements. Larissa began to spasm over your face, in a particular pressure with your nose against her button, the blonde let out a loud moan coming over your face, soaking your chin and neck. She had such a rich taste that it was addictive, and although her body was still shaking against you and sensitive, you couldn't stop your movements, not even when your lungs were screaming for air and you were feeling a little dizzy, you wanted to stay there cleaning her with your tongue. But apparently it was a lot for the woman who had been begging you to stop, but with your head pressed between her thighs you weren't listening. It wasn't until, with the leg that was on your shoulder, she pushed you backwards, causing you to fall back sitting on the carpet. You finally took a breath of air that you desperately needed, a little dazed from the shortness of breath and from being glued to her for so long, you looked at the woman who still had her legs spread in front of you. Larissa was looking at you gawking too, not only had you given her an incredible orgasm, but seeing you in your underwear, with your chin and chest stained with her juices and your dazed face looking at her, made her feel desperate too.

-"Come here"-she said still out of breath and helped you up from the carpet, making you sit on one of her thighs. She gently caressed your jaw and started kissing there, making you feel restless, the blonde gave small bites on your jaw and lips, but without kissing you, a soft moan left her lips when she tested herself on your mouth-"You did a good job, you look beautiful with my juices all over you" - she whispered over you and finally kissed you. A kiss that started slowly, but when she began to bite your lip you began to lose the little control you had, a moan came out of your mouth and she took the opportunity to stick her tongue in you, while one of her hands caressed your waist and slowly went up to caress one of your breasts. Without noticing you started moving your hips on her leg, which made her laugh as she saw and felt how desperate you were for her, even though you had your underwear, you were soaking her leg. With incredible speed and dexterity, the blonde took advantage when you raised your hips, to put her hand underneath your core. With one of her fingers she ran your underwear to the side, making the most pronounced part of her palm press against your most sensitive part, while her fingers brushed against your entrance, torturing you but not putting them in

-"You're soaking wet and I've barely kissed you, do you find so much pleasure licking my pussy?"-She whispered over your lips and you nodded, but she gripped your jaw tightly making you look into her eyes and you gasped for her strength-"Talk, use your big girl words"-She said in a raspy voice

-"Yes... Eating you out makes me fucking wet, I could live licking your pussy and making you moan my name all my life"-you whimper against her lips and tried to kiss her again but she didn't let you

-"Very good baby, but I don't remember moaning your name..."-She smiled arrogantly

-"There's still time" - You responded arrogantly, but your smile turned to a moan when she stuck two fingers into you and kissed you passionately. Desperately you began to move your hips over her hand, especially brushing your crotch against her palm and moaning over her lips. The blonde pinched your nipples and twisted her fingers inside you-"Please, faster, almost there..." - You answered

-"Beg.. Say my name..."-she whispered and bite your neck. A tear escaped your eye and you moved desperately over her hand, but she withdrew it from between your leg

-"No... No please, don't be mean..."-You opened your eyes looking at her desperately

-"This it's me being nice... I say... Beg and say my name"-She bit your shoulder marking it

-"Please Larissa... Please make me cum"-you begged and she smiled, sticking her fingers back into you and massaging your clit with her thumb, the blonde watched as you desperately moved your hips on her, letting out moans and nonsense, begging her to let you climax

-"Fuck, you turn me on so much with the noises you make, I bet it's been a long time since someone have stretched you like this, that beautiful tight pussy taking my fingers so well"-Larissa bit your neck and one of your breasts, still massaging your clit and moving her fingers inside you. A choked moan left your lips as you began to spasm, finally reaching what you had longed for, wetting the blonde's hand and thigh with your juices. She continued with her movements a little longer, making your orgasm last a little more. Exhausted, you dropped your head on her chest, breathing heavily. She carefully pulled her fingers out of you and licked them letting out a happy moan-"You taste so well... Are you all right sweetheart?" - she asked, and you nodded with your eyes closed.

After a few minutes,the two of you were lying on the couch, you delicately drew meaningless shapes on her chest and abdomen, going over the moles and freckles that where there with your fingertips, while she looked at you curiously. After everything you had done, you now looked much more relaxed and calm and so did she

-"What are you thinking?" - she whispered, looking at you curiously

-"That you didn't deserve any of that, of what happened to you... You're not alone in this, I suffer too, although I know it's not exactly the same... My wife and my schedule have opened a gap in my life and she cheated on me too. It's funny how we suffer on both sides of the social classes, no matter how much money we have or how different our lives are, we were both cheated... You suffer here in your mansion and I suffer in my humble apartment"-You responded by speaking without thinking or holding back much. The blonde stood up carefully while you watched her still sitting on the couch

-"Come with me, I want him to know I'm not alone, I want him to know what we did tonight" - she replied, stretching out her hand to help you stood up, thing that you did. After getting dressed again, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and you drove to the bar she had told you to, where this men was, the man who had dared to cheat on such a beautiful woman.

As the two of you entered the bar, her hand rested on your waist possessively guiding you through the crowd. When you saw her husband, he was hugging a woman, woman you instantly recognized. You laughed thinking about it, whether destiny was big or that city was very small, when you realized that the woman he was hugging was your wife.

Who would have thought that from that night on, her boyfriend and you wife, play to cheat on you two seeing each other in the same bar, while the tall blonde always stops your taxi at 3am in the same spot every night.

#larrisa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #larissa x y/n #larissa x you #larissa weems smut

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cannedpickledpeaches · 5 months

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The Drive Home

Floyd Leech x Reader

Notes: Haven’t finished the side stories for Insert Your Name so here’s some Floyd angst while you wait.

Somehow or the other, over the years, you’ve become Floyd’s designated driver.

You’re good friends, so of course you go to the same parties. You don’t drink, so of course he needs someone reliable and sober to take him home . . . if he isn’t going home with a new friend. The latter happened often enough in university that you only showed up to events when he was too hammered to leave with anyone else.

You never bothered to learn about his more personal life. It wouldn’t be too weird to ask—he’s happy to volunteer information unprompted, regardless—but you simply aren’t interested. You’re his childhood friend. It would feel almost gross to like him when his parents’ home welcomes you as warmly as your own. Jade and Floyd are just like your annoying brothers, that’s all.

You’re also really good at convincing yourself.

When you were young and fueled by emotion in high school, you constantly dreamed about Floyd if he was the perfect boyfriend. One who was attentive, fun, and loyal. One who would treat you as someone special, who would never get bored and cast you aside. One who would devote his entire being to you.

Maturing is realizing that’s just not Floyd. And you can respect that. Maturing is understanding that no matter how much your heart likes him, that fairytale prince you conjured in your daydreams with his face doesn’t exist. Maturing is realizing just because you like him doesn’t mean he’s good for you.

But you still like him. You tried, but you can’t change that.

Neon letters flicker and cast their light over the interior of your car as you wait in the driver’s seat. After graduating from university, he moved on from frat parties to clubs. Even while parked by the curb, you can hear the booming music thrumming in your steering wheel. The bass pulses like a second heartbeat.

A tall silhouette stumbles to the door on the passenger side. Neon pinks and purples from the sign behind him light up the flyaways in his messy hair. When he opens the door, the stench of alcohol crashes into you the same way he crashes into the seat. The cologne swirling around in the headache-inducing miasma doesn’t help in the slightest.

“You stink.” To alleviate your nostrils, you roll the windows down. The muted music transitions into a different song with the exact same beat. “I’m thinking about kicking you out and making you walk home.”

“Don’t do that, s’not nice.” His words sound as though his tongue has lost half its flexibility. “Ya’ve got your best friend in your car! Would never dream of doin’ somethin’ so mean, wouldya?”

“If you throw up over the seats, I’m kicking you out. Too bad my best friend isn’t worth cleaning up whatever’s in your stomach right now.”

“Won’t throw up.” His snicker ends in a groan. It takes him several tries to secure his seatbelt. “Fuck. Feel like the world’s spinnin’.”

You pull out a plastic bag from the glove compartment and shove it in his lap.

For a good stretch of the drive, he’s content with humming to himself. You don’t play music in case it makes his headache worse. He makes enough noise to fill the car anyway. His off-tune humming switches through several melodies, some you recognize, some you don’t.

The humming fades into silence. At a stop light, you glance at Floyd to make sure he’s okay. His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. You think he’s asleep until his eyes flash open and he gives you a grin.

“Eyes on the road.”

“Just making sure you didn’t kick the bucket.” You catch a glimpse of a red stain on the right side of his Adam’s apple. Your gut twists unpleasantly. “If you’re gonna sleep, turn your face to the right.”

“Why? Y’don’t wanna see my handsome face or what?”

You look forward as the light turns green. “No, you told me to keep my eyes on the road. I just don’t want you transferring those lipstick stains onto the seats.”

“Ain’t gotta be salty that you don’t get laid.” You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

“That’s because I have standards.”

“Like what?”

“Something higher than ‘has a hole.’”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “Jealousy ain’t cute on ya.”

You’re aware. Painfully so. Jealousy feels ugly, gnarled, like a twisting mess of poisoned vines reaching insidious tendrils through your veins. They eventually follow your veins back to your heart, squeezing its walls with every lipstick stain you see on his skin. The wish to possess, to confine him in your clutches when the thing he hates above all others is to be tied down—that isn’t cute in the slightest.

Maturing is keeping the worst thoughts inside. A mature adult like you won’t throw a tantrum or cry dramatically in front of him. No, a mature adult like you can do that in the privacy of your room.

“What’s cute on me, then?” You swallow hard. He won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow. Probably. Not when there are so many other, more interesting conversations from the club to remember.

Awkward silence fills the car. Your fingers leave sweat on the steering wheel. Focusing on the road might help distract you from the odd pause from his ever-present noise.

“Your hands.”

You very nearly step hard on the gas by accident. You weren’t expecting an answer at all, much less this one.

“Why? Is that a fetish, or . . . .”

He barks a laugh. “Nah, who knows?”

“Ew. I’ll kick you out.” Both of you know you won’t. If you’re being honest, you’re a little flattered that he thinks your hands are cute, even if it’s in a platonic way. “Why my hands?”

“Dunno. Just the part of ya I was lookin’ at when y’asked.”

Now that’s an odd answer. At a stop light, you look at him again. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and a lazy grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“I told you to face your right.”

“Right, right.” He sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t oblige. “How’m I s’posed to give ya a proper answer when I’m not s’posed to look atcha?”

“You can’t think of cute things about me if you aren’t looking at me?” You scoff, turning onto a side street. Almost there. “Think of me in your head or something.”

“My head can’t do ya justice.”

Your heart almost skips a beat. Almost. Because you think of all the other people he’s said those words to. All of a sudden, you feel much less special.

Childhood friends. Maturing is understanding that is all you are, and that is all you will ever be, and that you will never, ever be in a relationship with Floyd Leech unless you want it to come crashing down in infinitesimal pieces.

“I like your eyes, too. Always lyin’.” He laughs. “The eyes of a liar, that’s what ya got. But I like them more this way.”

“Doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Well, it is.” His chuckles fade into the ambient rumbling of the car for a few moments before he starts rambling. “I like your laugh, too. And the way ya come to pick me up even when ya complain. And when ya scoff when I do somethin’ nice for ya, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’re happy anyway. And your nose when it scrunches up. It gets red when it’s cold.”

“Most people’s noses get red when it’s cold.” You choose to ignore everything else he said.

“Not mine.”

“Most humans.”

It’s the novelty that attracts him. You’d have thought that after living with humans all this time, the novelty of flushed skin would have worn off, but it’s hard to tell with Floyd.

“Wouldya like me more if I was human?”

His voice is nearly lost in the humming of the car. You keep your eyes straight ahead. Vaguely, you wish there was more traffic in this side street. Something to keep your mind off the odd vulnerability in his voice.

“I like you the most the way you are,” you say, and it’s the truth. No matter what he is, human or mer or otherwise, you like Floyd as himself. You’ve fallen in love with a natural disaster, and you only barely have enough sense not to throw yourself in the midst of it. The winds would shred you apart. You desperately struggle against the part of your mind that whispers: at least you would have had it once before being destroyed.

But you’re older and more mature now. You won’t indulge that emotional side of you.

You stop outside his home and put the car in park. “We’re here. Get out of my car.”

A mix between a groan and a whine drags itself out of his throat. The alcohol might be making him woozy, but he can walk to his door just fine. You won’t need to help him anymore than this.

He unfastens his seatbelt and leans over to you. The hug he gives you is so uncoordinated, it feels like he’s simply throwing his weight onto you, his arms flopping uselessly.

“Thanks,” he says a little too loudly for his mouth to be next to your ear. “See ya ‘round.”

“Don’t ask me to pick you up again.”

“Ya say that every time.” He laughs again. Laughter always hides just under his tongue when he drinks. “Ya still come when I call.”

“I won’t anymore.” You don’t mean it.

He waves off your remark and plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You stiffen, but you’re sure he’s too drunk to notice. With a boisterous farewell, he stumbles out of your car and disappears beyond his front door, leaving the ghost of his kiss on your skin.

You hate being a mature adult. If you weren’t, maybe you would’ve called after him. You might’ve rolled down the window all the way and pulled on his collar, yanking him close enough to kiss him on the lips. Consequences be damned, caution to the wind, whatever else they say about being young and reckless. But you’re a mature adult, and the best you can do for both of you is watch as he leaves.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twst fanfic #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #older au

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elaina-writes-things · 8 months

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I haven't seen a single episode of Hazbin Hotel yet. Prime's fuckin' expensive lmfao

Anyway, my TikTok FYP has been flooded with songs from the show, and fortunately I got a look at Big Daddy Lucifer himself, so...I think it's pretty clear I wanna take that for a ride.

I may make a part two. I may not. All I know is that I needed to write about him or it'd consume me.

~~~

Goddamn. Literally.

Look, you hadn't been a saint when you were alive, but you definitely hadn't anticipated eternal punishment in Hell. You hadn't killed anybody, or stolen anything, or been a huge hedonist. As far as you were concerned, you'd lived an extremely average life, the only remarkable part being that huge semi truck flattening you after the driver fell asleep behind the wheel. To you, the fact that you were condemned was bullshit, which is why you'd found yourself doing everything in your power to make it through this clearly-hastily-thrown-together rehab program at the Hazbin Hotel.

Now, though, standing in the lobby and watching a delicious little king strut around, you realized you wanted — needed — to fuck that guy more than you needed to get to Heaven.

"Charlie said her mom's pretty much out of the picture, right?" You whispered to Vaggie.

"Uh, yeah?" She whispered back, glancing at you briefly with her one good eye, then back to watching her girlfriend give Lucifer a tour of the hotel. "Why?"

"Just asking," you mumbled, enthralled. He was singing, now, with a voice like the gorgeous fallen angel he was. You wanted to know how musical his moans sounded, and what other sorts of things that mouth could do.

A glass of water suddenly appeared in front of you, held in a pink-gloved hand. You looked at Angel Dust, who smirked back and winked.

"Drink it up you thirsty bitch."

"Shut up," you hissed, taking the glass and pointedly setting it on the counter. His smirk only grew.

"Don't gotta be supes tall to ride that ride," the spider continued.

"Oh my god."

"Nah, He ain't watchin'. I could, though, if that's your thing."

You wanted to bury your head in your hands but refrained. If you did that, you wouldn't be able to stare at all six of Lucifer's wings. Those things were huge. How often did he preen them? Were they sensitive? Were they an erogenous zoNE OH SHIT CHARLIE AND HER DAD WERE COMING THIS WAY.

Like the others crowded together on the edge of the lobby, you straightened up and plastered a polite smile on your face. Down the line, your names were called out, and the king of Hell shook every corresponding hand. Then, he was face to face with you, and it shouldn't have been as adorable to need to tilt your head down just slightly to meet his eyes as it was.

"And this is another one of our guests! They volunteered to stay! Voluntarily!" Charlie boasted, giving her dad your name. Your hand fit nicely in his — warm, he was exceptionally warm. You didn't realize how cold Hell was until just this moment — and noticed how terribly it was trembling.

Lucifer repeated your name as Charlie gave it, staring almost as intently at you as you were to him. You'd give almost anything to hear him say it again.

Fuck, he had such pretty eyes.

"Thanks! I get that a lot!" He grinned. You'd said that out loud like an idiot. In your periphery, you could see Angel trying his best not to burst out laughing. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"That's good," you murmured without thinking, eyes flitting up and down, "your body deserves to be praised."

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

The hand clasping yours tensed up, squeezing briefly, painfully. You both stared at each other with wide eyes, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then Lucifer quickly withdrew, turning away as though you weren't there and had never existed to begin with.

You ignored the curious look Charlie gave you, the wheezing coming from Angel, the annoyed understanding from Vaggie, and everything else as you excused yourself to go up to your room. Your face was beet red and your stomach was tight with shame. You wanted to disappear under the bed sheets, never to be seen again. Had you really just told the king of Hell you had a thing for praising people? At the very least, he probably thought you were a total whor—

Squeak!

You lifted your head up from where it was buried under all your pillows, coming face to face with a little, rubber ducky. It was cute, sporting two, rosy cheeks and a white top hat.

Gently lifting it, your fingers brushed against a scrap of paper taped to the underside.

"If you meant what you said, I'm free tonight."

A phone number was scrawled on the back. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest as you read and reread the note, unable to fight the stupid grin on your face.

"Holy shit," you blurted, "I'm gonna fuck Lucifer."

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #YEAH I WANNA FUCK THE SHORT KING. HIS WIFE IS APPARENTLY MIA SO NOW'S MY CHANCE.

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ominoose · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐱𝐢 - 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: A taxi pulls up beside you to rescue you in the rain, turns out its no ordinary cab. Warnings: Smut (f!recieving oral, vaginal sex), google translated Spanish. WC: 2.5k A/N: Thank you to @minispidey for brainstorming this with me <3

The rain was unrelenting, the pavement reflecting the bright neon lights of New York as you stand at the corner of the block, holding your jacket over your head as if it could save you from the sudden storm. Taxi's were roaring past, almost splashing you as they sped on through busy street's, yet not paying any mind to your out stretched hand, waving wildly in the hopes of shelter and a ride.

With a sigh you drop your arm, trying to shake off the water that was running down onto your dampening top. There was no use, no way were you going to manage to catch a stray taxi on a Saturday night. As you turn in defeat, resigning yourself to walk home, a honk and bright lights catch your attention.

A slick, black taxi cab pulls up next to you, the windows completely tinted, shielding the interior and driver from view. You stare in confusion, looking left and right. Everyone was walking by with haste, hunched under umbrellas and rushing to get out of the rain, no one was stood waiting for a cab.

The hum of a window rolling catches your attention, and when you glance back towards the cab a man is resting an arm on the car door. A black flat cap sat low on his face, casting a shadow over his eyes, leaving only a dark mustache and a casual smirk to define him.

"You getting in or what, querido?" The voice had a husky New York drawl, casual and confident as he gestured between you and the door.

With only a moments hesitation you hurriedly step towards the cab, opening the door and dumping yourself into the seat, your jacket thrown beside you. For a moment you felt bad, wetting the leather seats of the one taxi that would stop for you.

"Thanks for pulling up, I was about to give up. Thought I was going to have to walk it home in the downpour." You huff out, offering a friendly smile to the man as you buckle in.

"No hay problema, wouldn't want a pretty lady like you getting too wet." The taxi rumbles to life, merging with the rest of the cars of and setting off.

It was a spacious cab, the kind that had two rows of seats facing one another with enough space in the middle to stretch your legs out. There was two clean towels folded on a seat to the left, with water bottles and a pack of wipes in the car door. 'What a nice cabi, leaving little amenities for customers', you thought before looking up at the glass separating the back and front of the taxi, trying to peer at the mysterious driver.

Stray dark curls peeked from the back of his flat cap, resting on the collar of a leather jacket and black gloved hands patted the wheel in a rhythm as a soft, classical Spanish song sounds through the radio. The man held an aura of mystery, leaning back against the seat like he'd done it a thousand times before, but you couldn't shake the feeling he held a cat like awareness. There was something about him, exuding a raw masculinity that he wielded nonchalantly.

"So, you dried off yet or are you still wet?" A small flush works up from your neck as he speaks, hoping he hadn't caught you staring.

"No I- I'm still a bit wet. Didn't want to waste your nice towels there, I'm basically soaked through so there'd be no point. Hope you don't mind me getting your seat a bit damp." You laugh a little self-consciously, looking down sheepishly at your wet clothes. You were thoroughly drenched.

"Soaking through you say?" The man repeats mirthfully, tutting a little, "No, the towels would be no use now, not when you are only going to get wetter."

You nod, smiling, chuckling with him automatically before his words sink in.

"Wetter?" You blink in confusion, glancing out the window at the passing lights as the taxi drives on, "Wait, I never told you where I wanted to go."

The man looks at you in the rear view mirror, dark eyes creasing with mischief.

"I'll tell you where I am going to, bebé. I am going to fuck you with my tongue until you've pulled out at least three clumps of my hair. Then I am going to fuck you into those back seats until your ass leaves a permanent imprint." The words were spoken casually, with a wave of his hand as if he was discussing any usual fare.

The taxi turned into a car park, slowly driving up a few floors before pulling into an empty corner. The lights were dim, flickering periodically, and if it weren't for the lights on in the taxi you likely wouldn't have been able to see much.

"W-What?" Your heart was almost thudding out of your chest, and as the man turned to look at you he only smirked in response, looking amused. His lack of an answer sends shivers down your spine, in both excitement and alarm.

As you're left processing the situation he's stepping out the front of the taxi and into the back, slamming the door behind him and sitting directly in front of you, legs spread and arms clasped atop his knees as he stares you down.

"So, cosa bonita, I think it's time we see just how wet you are, sí?" A leather clad finger gently taps your knee and slowly strokes up your thigh, all the while his eyes never leave yours, watching over your reactions with a dark intensity.

You don't stop him, exhilarated as you glance down to see his finger stop just at the top of your thigh making your breath catch in your throat. You gaze back up at him to see his eyes flicker to the top of your jeans before looking back at you, quirking his eyebrow expectantly.

Swallowing nervously, you take the hint, unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, sliding the wet denim down slowly to your knees and yet by his expression it's not enough. You're forced to stand awkwardly, hunched over so you don't hit the roof and trying to fully lift your leg out your jeans when his gloved hands suddenly impact your ass with a loud smack.

"You weren't joking about being soaked through bebé, those panties will need to go too. Can't have you completely ruining my leather seats." He doesn't pay any mind as you gasp at your reddening rear, he only pats your thigh, encouraging you to strip for him.

Once again you do as he bids, biting your lip as you pull your underwear down past your knees. A deep groan leaves his throat as he brings a finger up to stroke over the skin of your thigh.

Without warning his hands grip at the soft flesh of your waist, pushing you back onto the seat as he kneels with one leg in front of you, nudging your thighs open with the other. Without hesitation's his head delves snugly between your thighs, kissing a line up and down your glistening folds.

"Dios mío, so fucking wet..." The man mumbles as he delves his tongue into your heat as deep as he can, his nose nudging at your clit while his gloved hands massage your thighs.

Your head slams back against the headrest of the seat as you arch into him. Flinging your legs over his shoulders, you knot your hands into his curls, knocking his cap off as you fight to bury his tongue further into you.

As you slowly start to grind against his face he splays his palm over your abdomen, his thumb reaching down to rub circles over your bundle of nerves. The stitching of the leather adds a hardness that has you keening with pleasure, griping his hair tighter. Just as he predicted.

He smirks into your skin, fucking you in deep strokes with his tongue, curling it into your walls as you pant harder and louder before he pulls back. The man licks his lips in satisfaction, a small string of slick coating his mustache and he tilts his head almost innocently as you whine at the emptiness you now felt.

"Aw, there there querido. Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel very, very good, all you have to do is lay down on those seats for me."

There was something about his voice, so calm yet commandeering, that had consistently doing anything he asked. With a breathless nod, you shift yourself and lay flat against the cold, now damp seats of the taxi, knees bent to fit.

"'Atta girl." He chuckles, patting your leg before he unzips his black trousers, pulling them and his boxers down in one practiced motion. His erection bounces up against his white shirt, leaving a tiny wet spot as a bead of precum slowly bubbled from the top. It was thick, a large vein curling up the underside and your lips parted in awe.

The man maneuvered himself between your legs, turning you on your side a bit to comfortably press himself against your as he shrugs off his leather jacket and chucks it onto the other seats. He keeps his gloves on, squeezing your thighs one more as he holds your leg up. His other hands strokes up and down his cock slowly, tapping it against your clit, drinking up your mewls and whines with a smug expression.

"Feel goods, huh? You ain't seen nothing yet." His words are all the warning you get before he slides into you all the way, bottoming out completely. He hisses as presses fully into you, squeezing your thigh enough to leave marks while his other hand pulls your shirt up to your chin, leaving your chest exposed. His hand leaves goosebumps in its wake as it smooths over your bare skin before he leans down and licks a wet strip from your belly button all the way up to your breasts.

"Please..." You whisper, begging as you push back against him, desperate for more friction, "Please, move, god I need more."

"So needy, maybe the neediest lady I've had yet." Before you can fully process the word's he pulls out until his tip is barely inside you, pausing for a moment to grin down at the look of anguish on your face before he thrusts back into you.

The man sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with enough force to rock the taxi. The inside is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin while you gasp and moan loudly, too caught up in the searing pleasure to restrain yourself.

His leather thumb flicks your clit cheekily, a sharp yelp leaving you breathless at the touch before he rubs circles over it. The man was clearly experienced, angling his thrusts experimentally until he hit the spot that had your head craning back against the car door and left you seeing stars. Once he found your sweet spot he made sure to hit it with precision each and every thrust, unrelenting as he matched his pace the thumb swirling over your bud.

"That's right bebé, keep taking my cock, so fucking good for me." He sneers down at you, huffing hard through his nose as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand finds the bar on the car door and you grip it until your knuckles turn white, the pleasure coiling in your stomach almost becomes too much to bare and you're surprised you haven't cum already.

He seems to sense how close you are and groans as your walls preemptively tighten around his cock, but he kept his pace, not even letting his thumb falter as he fucked you into oblivion. The taxi was creaking from how badly it was being rocked, to anyone outside it would've been obvious what was happening within, but the outside world was lost to both of you.

"Oh god, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come." You were babbling, eyes screwing shut as you arched against him, grinding yourself into his hardness.

"Do it, come on my cock, come for me." His sharp grunts were the last thing you heard before that coiling heat in your stomach bursts through the rest of your body, flooding ecstasy into your veins. Your nails rake down his shoulders as your body tenses, the walls of your pussy pulsing around the man's cock as he came.

The sudden feeling of his fingers bruising grip on your thigh was your only indication he'd come undone as well, the snapping of his hips stuttering as his thumb slowed its march around your clit.

You both lay there panting, trying to catch your breath as your limbs went weak, a very faint tingling present just underneath your skin.

After a moment the man pulls from you with a deep breath, his face neutral as he moves to grab a bottle of water from the car door.

"Not bad." He muses, taking a quick swig of popular, "I think you'll be popular, you make good noises. This'll get a fair number of views."

Slowly you sit up, wincing a little now you no longer have pleasure to dampen just how hard he had been plowing into you. The man throws a towel and pack of wipes at you, taking another drink.

"What do you mean? Views? Did you record this?" You ask each question in rapid succession, confused and concerned at the prospect of being filmed without consent. Letting a random taxi driver take you into a secluded parking garage for sex was a bad enough decision, having it plastered over the internet was a whole other game.

The look of confusion he turns to you with doesn't help.

"Uh, sí? How else would it be posted?" He looks you up and down for a moment, eyes narrowing as he tries to discern why you seem so bewildered.

"Posted? Posted where?!" At your words a flicker of understanding flashes over his face and the man turns fully to you, brow furrowed.

"To the porn site. This is the Fake Taxi. I pick up the actress from the designated spot, drive her, fuck her good, then it goes for editing and whatever before it is put online. You were standing at the designated spot." He speaks bluntly, watching you with narrowed eyes as you take in what he's saying, watching the realization dawn on you.

"Oh." You thought you'd gotten lucky when the sleek cab pulled up next to you, assumed he had saw you waving just before giving up. Neither was true, you'd been mistaken for a porn star.

"You are not the actress." The man states, not even a question at this point. It was obvious he'd picked up and fucked the wrong girl, and you find yourself curling up under the towel in embarrassment.

"No. I'm not."

He stares at you, face completely stony. Even as he takes another drink of water his dark eyes never leave yours. His expression shows nothing, giving no indication of whats going through his mind and the silence, the tension, has your heart beating a little faster as you wonder whether you were in trouble.

A gloved hand is held out in front of you as the mans signature knowing smirk curls its way back onto his face.

"I'm Jake Lockley. We make a good team."

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #omiwrites #i realised this was my first time ever writing sex #holy shit #weird i havent done it before #anyway #if its shit lmk i appreciate honest criticism

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baurbiediv · 2 years

Text

it kills me

pairing → joe burrow x reader

warnings → swearing, accused cheating, joe being a bootyhole

synopsis → you’ve given up almost everything to love & be with joe, and when you have given him an ultimatum, one of you isn’t willing to give up the other one. but is this everything that you wanted?

authors note → surprise surprise! new series based off the lovely song by melanie fiona, it’s been stuck in my head nonstop for the past few days + since there’s no school/classes for me tomorrow i’ll do my absolute best to get my wip’s done and published!!

additional notes → not proofread, y’all know i can’t spell fr

you knew how passionate joe was for football the minute you saw him step onto the field to play for lsu.

there was a fire that burned inside of him so very brightly, and he wanted people to see that for themselves. joe was very grateful to have met you throughout the duration of his time attending lsu.

you two couldn’t have met in the most cliché way possible though, you’d taken a position as an athletic trainer out on the field along with your best friend & roomate, eden.

you’d gotten close with everyone, and even players on the team, but you’d caught the attention of a certain player, none other than the infamous star quarterback, joe burrow.

now, initially, you’d never really paid that much attention to him because you wanted to focus on yourself and what your path would be after college. but obviously some people would only experience college once in their entire lifetime, and of course you needed to make the most of it.

but of course, joe pursued you and he continued to take interest in you little by little. whether it was him purposely going out of his way to take a longer route to his classes, or ‘accidentally’ bumping into you at some random college party being held during the weekends.

it just so happened that tonight would be one of those nights where you miraculously bumped into each other at a party. eden had begged you constantly throughout the week to come join her at this party, and to which you finally complied.

eden stood in the bathroom doorway leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and the biggest smile plastered across her face, “you know y/n you’re very easy to convince.”

the only thing that you could do was purse your lips together and look at her with blank eyes. “so ignoring that lie, do you really want me to go to this party or are you trying to get with ja’marr? cause i mean i can make it happen-“, before you could say another word she screamed and disappeared into the bathroom before you could say another word.

“exactly.”

you wouldn’t admit this, but you purposely got ready an additional two hours before you initially had to leave. obviously eden noticed this but she wouldn’t say anything.

and so when the time came you two were out the door. hopping into the car and on your way, eden started giggling in the drivers seat. you didn’t pay any attention to her as you were occupied with fixing your lip gloss on the overhead mirror.

“y/n, i noticed you getting you ready way before we needed to leave, someone you seeing there?” she said nudging your arm, keeping your focus on the mirror.

you didn’t even look in her direction, “i don’t know what you’re talking about e, i’m just going to look good, feel good, and have the time of my college life.” you said, knowing you were lying out of your ass.

eden playfully rolled her eyes, “y/n, you know damn well i know you better than anyone else, plus that lie was literally horrible.” you sighed before closing the overhead mirror and you looked over at eden before admitting, “okay, i literally have not been able to stop thinking about joe for the longest time and i know it’s stupid because he could probably be fucking with me but i do like joe and i don’t know if he feels the same and ..”

eden squealed loudly and clapped her hands together enthusiastically before placing them back on the steering wheel. you looked at her with a ‘huh’ kind of face, “y/n you made it so obvious, any time you two get around each other, you both get all googly eyed” she said.

now that she said that, it didn’t take you long to realize that she was right, undeniably joe was charming, you knew he took an interest in you but you didn’t want to be heartbroken by his typical quarterback antics.

you wanted to believe that he was a different guy from the rest of them. “i know, i just don’t want to be hurt, i should trust him though, he does seem like a really sweet guy though.” you sighed, before you knew it eden parked the car a few houses down from the actual house.

she turned in her seat and looked at you, “look y/n you know i love you and i’m going to always give you the honest truth always, go for it. you i’ve never seen anyone chase for you as bad as he does,” you smiled as you both laughed at that, “and hell, even if you two actually do hit it off, who knows where you’ll be foe the next couple of years? and if you don’t hit off, fuck it, you’re hot as fuck and you know that.”

she smiled at you brightly as you hugged her tightly. “thank you e, i love you.” she patted your back and pulled away from you, “you know i got you, i’d never have you looking crazy out here anyway.” you both laughed again.

walking up to the front lawn, there were bodies that lingered around the porch and some that sat on the grass. you were walking side by side with eden when you heard ‘my shit’ by a boogie blaring from inside the house, you both quickly made your way into the house trying to find the center of the music.

time was passing by, you were smiling from ear to ear already enjoying yourself singing along to your favorite song with your best friend.

and shortly after you two found yourselves in the kitchen enjoying the array of different vodkas & tequilas, when suddenly people started scream and hold their phones out. being the two goofy people you were, you peeked your heads out the kitchen walk way like it was kind of cartoon or sitcom.

trying to see between the amount of people, low and behold, there they were, joe burrow & ja’marr chase, two of the most promising players that were to ever step onto the lash football field. both you and eden grinned excitedly at each other before taking your places back at the kitchen island.

you two couldn’t seem to keep your excitement and giggles down to the slight buzz of the alcohol but it was nothing that you couldn’t handle. after what seemed to be hours when in actuality it had been about 10 minutes, joe & ja’marr had walked into the kitchen, obviously you and eden hadn’t noticed due to you two having your backs turned to each other.

“is that my girl eden?” ja’marr said which caused the both of you to jump slightly and turn around. eden’s face lit up as she quickly made her way to hug ja’marr.

you smiled at the both of them, you knew she had a huge thing for him but you never knew if they actually took it to the next step. you took this as the time to just make your move, at this point it was now or never. “hi joe.” you said as joe’s face lit up, “hey y/n.” he opened up his arms and you took this chance to walk over to him and hugged him. at that moment your head was spinning and you couldn’t pinpoint where your mind was in that exact moment.

when joe’s arms wrapped back around you, you felt your entire body relax into his touch. the way he felt, the way he smelled was more intoxicating than the alcohol you consumed which made your head spin.

you looked over and say eden silently cheering you on. you winked at her and smiled. after a while you pulled away from joe as eden did the same with ja’marr. you looked at eden, she had look of brewing up an idea.

“ja’marr what is she thinking?” joe said before bringing his red solo cup to his lips,

“you’re asking the wrong person, you should be asking her!” ja’marr said as he pointed to you while laughing.

quickly, you held up your hands in defense. “let’s play cup pong! since you guys don’t have a game this weekend, all limits are off! loser has to skinny dip and jump into the pool.”

“i’m in.” you said giggling while grabbing the cups and setting them up. unbeknownst, joe was watching your every move, your skin glowed (complimentary of the fenty body glitter) in the dimly light kitchen.

few people had passed through the kitchen but didn’t care to acknowledge the four of you, which you mentally thanked. you poured the small amounts of tequila into the cups and downed the minuscule amount that was left.

it was you & eden on one team then joe and ja’marr on the other. “who starts first?” joe said as she placed his hands onto the kitchen island.

damn he looked good.

“we’ll go first!” eden said as she quickly grabbed the small neon purple ball, she bounced the ball onto the table and watched it land in the cup on the other side.

you noticed ja’marr sending small glances at eden, but she was too oblivious and made it her sole mission to win this game of cup pong. but you occasionally noticed joe sending you glances as well, too flustered to do anything you quickly looked away to avoid any eye contact feeling as though you’d just pass out from nervous he made you.

joe was very aware of how he made you feel, and he was determined to make you his. minutes passed by, eden had managed to completely demolish them by leaving only two cups left.

“man you guys actually suck.” you said laughing.

“i’m used to throwing long distance, not short distance.” joe said with a look of fake hurt on his face as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

you shook your head laughing as eden handed you the small ping pong balls, “y/n don’t mess this up!” she teased, “eden, they literally have 6 cups left to our 2, i don’t think we’re losing this game any time soon.”

“alright! time to skinny dip! chop chop!”

eden said clapping her hands. ja’marr playfully rolled his eyes, “do we actually have to?” he said before taking his shirt off. “you ask that while taking your shirt off, so yes, you answered your own question.” joe sighed as he took off his shirt.

you laughed as joe handed you the rest of his clothes along with ja’marr handing his to eden. joe took his glasses off and placed them on your head, “don’t need these getting damaged.” he said before diving head first into the pool.

man were you enjoying life right now.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic

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fetusgooseandjuice · 2 years

Text

My Princess

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x fem!reader

Summary: Shuri brought her girlfriend, Y/N, with her to a party she was invited to. But when a man can’t take Y/N’s ‘no’ for an answer, she results in using a hand signal to get Shuri’s attention.

Word Count: 4,021

Warnings: Sexual Assault & Attempted R*pe| Mentions of murder | Violence

REQUESTED

Your POV:

"After you, m'lady." Shuri said, opening the car door and holding her hand out for me to take.

"Why thank you. I feel oh so honored." I joked, playing along with her antics and getting in the car.

She chuckled, grabbing the seatbelt and reaching over to buckle it for me.

"Shuri, I think can buckle my own seatbelt." I shyly giggled.

"Well you are my princess, so I must treat you like one, right?" after clipping the seatbelt, she moved her head to kiss me.

"I love you." she whispered against my lips.

"I love you too." I murmured in response before she shut the car door, and walked over to the drivers side to get in.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, darling. Have I told you that yet?" she looked at me with loving eyes as she plugged her phone into the aux to play my playlist she had saved.

She always played my favorite songs whenever I was in the car with her. I never asked her to, it was just one of the many ways she showed her love for me.

"Six time already. I've been counting, but I love it." I responded, gazing at her.

"Good, that means I'm doing something right." she smiled.

"You know you look stunning as well." I wanted to make sure she felt as confident in herself as she made me feel.

"I tried to match you as best as I could, so thank you baby." she leaned over to peck my lips before shifting the car out of park, and then resting her hand that wasn't on the steering wheel on my inner thigh.

Shuri was invited to a party, and of course she asked me to come with her. We would both prefer to have night in together where we could just lay in each others arms, but she thought it would be rude to turn down this offer. So she brought me along to make it a little more bearable.

After following the GPS to our destination, we pulled into the parking lot of the venue. I barely got to open my car door when she reached over and put her hand over mine on the handle to pull it shut.

"Absolutely not. What are you doing?" she quickly asked.

"Opening the door to get out?" I sounded confused.

"Stop it, when have I ever made you open your own doors? I'm gonna get it for you." she swiftly got out of the car and jogged over to my side, opening the door and giving me her hand to help me out.

"Was that really necessary?" I chuckled.

"Like I said earlier, you're my princess so I'm gonna treat you like one." she shrugged her shoulders with a smile, wrapping her arm around my waist to keep me close as we walked towards the building.

Entering the venue, we were met with light chatter and the smell of wine. We didn't get to walk inside very far before a man approached us, greeting my girlfriend.

"Shuri, you finally showed up! I was starting to think you were gonna ghost me." the man joked.

"I was thinking about it, but I could never be the mean, right?" she responded with a laugh.

"Eh, that's debatable. Who's this lovely lady you have here with you?" he asked, looking at me.

"This is my darling girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my good friend, Ross." she introduced us.

"Ohhh, so you're the girl she never stops talking about. It's a pleasure to finally meet you,

Y/N." he kindly said, holding his hand out for me to shake.

"The pleasure is mutual, Ross. Shuri never stops talking about me?" I shook his hand with a smile, looking from him to my girlfriend.

"Yeah, I've heard so much about you that I feel like I've known you my whole life." he teased Shuri about how much she talks about me.

"Okay, okay. I don't need you giving her anything else to hold over my head for the rest of my life." Shuri jumped into the conversation.

"Alright, I'll stop...for now. Anyways, there's a few people over there that wanted to meet you earlier, but you weren't here. Do you wanna go talk to them now?" he gestured in the direction of the guests who wanted to talk to her.

"Maybe, just give me one second." she responded. Ross nodded his head before walking away.

Shuri turned to face me, "Are you okay with me going to talk to them for a few? You can come with, or if you don't want to I'll stay with you." she gently grabbed one of my hands and intertwined our fingers, bringing my hand up to place a kiss on it.

"You can go ahead. I'm probably just gonna get a drink from the bar, I'll be fine." you smiled up at her.

"Okay well if you change your mind, you can always come find me. Or call me, and i'll come find you." she stated, making sure I knew that she was here.

"I know, Shuri. Go ahead, I'll catch up with you later." I encouraged her.

She put a hand on my waist, the other on the side of my face to pull me closer so she could lean down and give me a few soft kisses. I cupped her cheeks, and it felt like the world around us completely disappeared.

But I knew that she wasn't going to pull away first, and knowing she didn't care about the fact that we were still in public, I pulled away first so it didn't go further than a few innocent kisses.

"Baby you already kept them waiting long enough by getting here this late." I quietly voiced, pulling away.

"Alright, I'm going. I love you." she gently said.

"I love you too." my voiced match the soft volume of hers. She pecked my lips one more time before walking off to go find Ross.

I watched her disappear into the crowd of people before I made my way to the bar. I approached the counter and waited for a bartender to become available.

"What can I get for you?" he asked after serving another guest.

"I'll have a white wine, please." I answered with a small smile. He nodded his head, pouring the drink into a wine glass and setting it down in front of me.

I thanked him before he went to tend to another person. I was about to take a sip of my drink when a voice caused me to pause.

"Well hello there, beautiful." I turned my head to see who was speaking to me.

I was met by a man who was much taller and bigger than me. He was staring down at me with a grin that I just found creepy.

I looked back down at my drink, muttering a small ‘Hi’ so that I didn't seem rude.

"Do you mind if I buy you another drink?" he offered.

"Oh, no thanks. This is probably the only one I'm gonna have tonight." I kindly turned down his gesture.

"Really? Not even just one? You know, we could get to know each other better." he put his hand on my arm, trying to reason with me.

"No really, I'm okay." I said, taking his hand off of me, trying to make it known that I wasn't interested.

"Well then what's a sexy little thing like you doing here all alone?" he questioned.

"I'm actually not here alone. My girlfriend just went to talk to some friends real quick." I replied, taking a sip from my glass.

"And she left you here all by yourself? Now that's just not right, is it?" he made another attempt at touching me, and put his hand on the small of my back.

I tensed up at this contact, feeling very uncomfortable. I didn't really know what to say and he could tell, so he made his intentions crystal clear.

"What do you say I take you home with me? Show you how a precious girl like you should really be treated." his hand started moving lower down my back.

I quickly recoiled away from his touch, starting to search the crowd for Shuri to try and get her attention. I knew how protective she was over me, so I knew there was a good chance that she had me in her line of sight. She always did in order to make sure I was okay.

Thinking about this, I thought that if I did one of our hand signals, then she would hopefully notice and come to help me. It was Shuri's idea to establish discreet ways for us communicate in public without using actual words just in case verbal communication was out of the picture.

I crossed my index and middle finger, then tapped them on the counter three times. This was our gesture for 'help'. I thought that if I continued tapping them three times, then she would eventually see it.

While doing this, I tried to talk myself out of the situation, "Please just stop. I already said I'm here with someone, I'm not interested."

He ignored my pleas for him to stop and continued moving his hand down my back, coming in contact with my butt.

Shuri still hadn't given me any sign that she saw me, so I just took it upon myself to try and push him away.

But since this man is more than twice my size, pushing at his arms barley affected him. In return, he grabbed me by my waist and pushed me against the counter, pressing his body against mine so I could hardly move.

"Maybe you'll be a little more interested after I show you what a good time really feels like." he harshly whispered into my ear, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to a more secluded part of the venue.

I fought the grip he had on me with everything I had, trying to pull back, but he was dragging me like I barely put up a fight. We eventually got to a spot that was completely empty, the only source of light being the lights that were hung in the main part of the building.

He roughly shoved me against the wall, starting to kiss my neck. I could feel the roughness of his beard against my skin while he groped my hips, my breasts, then moved down to my ass.

I was writhing as much as I could, trying to get away, "Please, please stop." I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Shut up, and just enjoy it." he growled, moving my dress up my thighs, his hand starting to slip under it.

My body was beginning to get tired as my attempts to squirm out of his grasp were useless. I was about to just give up until he was aggressively pulled off of me. I took this opportunity to pull my dress back down, covering my upper thighs again.

I heard the sounds of him being thrown against a wall, and punches being landed followed by his yelps of pain. But I could hardly see it through the tears in my eyes. I only wiped them away when I recognized my girlfriends voice.

~~~

Shuri's POV:

"It's so nice to finally meet the queen of Wakanda. We really admire what you've done." a kind woman said to me.

"Thank you. I try my best, but it's not always easy." I smiled at them.

"You make it seem like you've done it your whole life. The technology you create, and the way you handle everything. It's just amazing." a different man said to me.

"Yeah well, I'd have to thank my girlfriend for a lot of that. She's so supportive, and most of the technology we make are her designs." I replied.

There were a few people that Ross introduce me to who wanted to meet me. They were really nice, but the overwhelming amount of compliments were beginning to become too much.

It tried to be kind and stay engaged in conversation, but my attention was shifting from time to time so I could check on Y/N. She was all the way across the building, but I still made sure that I had a clear view of her.

Everything was okay until I saw a man approach her. To me it seemed like it was just a friendly conversation until I saw him begin to touch her. She moved away from him, so It didn't seem like I needed to step in just yet because she was handling it.

"Is everything alright?" Ross brought me out of my thoughts when he saw that I was focused on something else.

I shifted my eyes to look back at them, "Hm? Yeah everything's fine. Continue what you were saying." I nodded my head. But when I looked back at her, she had her fingers crossed and they were tapping on the counter in front of her.

I knew that was the motion that meant 'help' because I came up with it. So at that point, I knew everything was indeed not fine.

I made up a quick excuse to exit the conversation I was in, "I'm sorry, could you excuse me for just a moment. I'd like to use the restroom, and then get a drink."

They nodded their heads in understanding before I started to make my way through the large crowd as quick as I could to reach Y/N. But it seemed like every few seconds I was either bumping into somebody, or being stopped by someone who wanted to talk to me.

I turned down every person who approached me, my mind set on reaching Y/N. But I ran into someone just as I saw the man grab her wrist and drag her away from the bar. I tried to follow them, but I lost sight of them in the crowd.

I started to practically run in the direction I thought they went. Stopping when I heard my girlfriends voice, I could hear her quiet pleas loud and clear. My blood boiled when I heard them, turning down the small corridor her voice came from.

I saw the same man who was talking to her at the bar pressing her against the wall. He was kissing her neck, his hands being anything but gentle on her body as they slipped under her dress. My heart broke at the sound of her cries.

So when I saw this I didn’t hesitated one bit to rush over to them. I grabbed the man by his shoulder and pulled him off of Y/N. Pushing him back into the wall, I punched him across the face with all the strength I had.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him further into the wall, "What. The fuck. Is wrong. With you." I punctuated each word with a blow to his head.

"I swear to god I should kill you for touching her like that. I should kill you for touching her period. For even looking at her the way you did." I had to hold him up against the wall because he lost his bearings.

"I heard her say 'stop' loud and clear from down the hallway. Do you not know what 'no' means?" I asked him with anger present in my voice.

When I got no answer from him, that just aggravated me even more. I punched him once again and I could tell it broke his nose, but I couldn't care less considering what he just did to my girl.

"No means fucking no. I saw her trying to be as nice as possible when turning you down over at the bar. But since you're so insecure that you can't seem to handle rejection, you have to deal with me now, and you can already tell I'm not going to be anywhere near as nice as she was." I said sternly, looking him directly in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, please-" he tried to say, but I cut him off with a scoff.

"Please? Ten seconds ago you had my girlfriend pinned against the wall while you fucking groped her and she asked you to 'please stop'. Now what? You expect me to show you mercy or something?" I questioned, furious.

When he nodded his head, my blood boiled over and the punch that connected with his face caused him to fall unconscious. I let go of his shirt, allowing him to fall to the ground. I was breathing heavily out of anger until I heard the quiet whimpers of my beloved.

I turned around and saw her trying to cover herself. Even though she still had on the same dress she wore when we got here, I knew she felt too exposed. Seeing the tears on her face shattered my heart, and the pure frustration I once felt disintegrated as I hurried over to her.

Pulling her into a tight hug, she started to sob against my chest. Her hands were clinging onto the back of my shirt as if I would evaporate into thin air if she let go.

I tilted my head down to kiss the top of hers, "You're okay now, baby, I've you got. I'm not going anywhere, I promise." I cooed.

Her broken up cries continued, and a few of my own tears rolled down my cheeks seeing how scared she was, "I'm so sorry I didn't get to you sooner." I whispered.

I let her cry into my shirt for as long as she needed. When she started to calm down, she lifted her head to look up at me.

"Thank you." she murmured.

I shook my head, "No, darling. Don't thank me. I promised that I'd always protect you."

A few seconds of silence passed before she spoke up again, "I tried to get him off. I-I said no and everything but-"

I stopped her, "Shhh. I know darling, I know you did. I won't let that happen to you ever again." I placed a kiss on her forehead.

Seeing how shake up and distraught she was I thought it would be best to get her to the comfort of our home, "Come on, my love. Let's just get you home now, okay?"

She nodded her head and pulled away from my arms. Before making our way to the exit, I took off my suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders to make her feel more comfortable.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and guided her through the crowd, once again turning down every persons attempt to talk to me. Once we got outside, the wind of the cold night caused both is us to shiver. I just pulled her closer to me hoping that it'd help her a little while we walked to the car.

She reached to open the passenger door, but I stopped her, "Now we had this conversation earlier, didn't we?" I raised a playful eyebrow at her and she giggled.

My heart swelled seeing her gorgeous smile and hearing her cute laugh. I opened the door for her and offered her my hand. When she got in, I grabbed the seatbelt and reached over to buckle it for her."

"Shuri," she whined.

I chuckled, "You are my princess, and princesses get treated as such." After I clipped it, I moved to kiss her nose and then shut the door.

I walked over to the drivers side and got into the car, “Music or no music?” I questioned, looking over at her.

“Music, but can you turn the volume down low?” she asked me.

“Anything for you, baby.” I responded with a small smile, plugging my phone into the aux and playing the playlist she made.

I would normally put a hand on her thigh to comfort her whenever I drove. I debated on doing that this time, not wanting to upset her.

We sat in comfortable silence for most of the ride, only talking when she quietly asked, “Can I hold your hand?”

I smiled to myself, taking a hand off the steering wheel to intertwine my fingers with hers, “I love you, angel.” I said.

“I love you too, Shuri.” she replied back.

When we arrived home, I put the car in park and started to get out of the car when I noticed zero movement from her. I turned my head to look at her, and my gaze softened when I saw her fast asleep.

I got out the car, closing the door as softly as possible before walking over to her side. Opening the door, I took my suit jacket from around her to put it on so that I could put her hand bag in the inner pocket.

My hands were now free to gently pick her up, holding her from under her thighs and her back. I closed the door with my foot before making my way inside. She woke up when I started to climb up the stairs, lifting her head up before letting it fall back onto my shoulder.

“Shuri?” she tiredly mumbled.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. You can go back to sleep until I wake you up to change into pajamas, m’kay?” I coaxed her back to sleep.

She murmured a few incoherent words before falling back asleep. When I reached our room, I pushed the door open with my foot and gently laid her on our bed. I didn’t want to disturb her by turning on any lights, so I navigated the room in the dark.

I picked out pajama’s for her and put them off to the side while I changed into my own comfortable clothes. When I was done, I grabbed some makeup wipes from the bathroom and then made my way back over to the bed.

“Y/N,” I whispered, stroking her cheek to slowly wake her up. She hummed, not wanting to open her eyes.

“Come on, baby. We’ve gotta get you out of this dress and into these comfy clothes.” I quietly told her.

She just hummed again in agreement and I chuckled. After moving to the foot of the bed I undid the straps of her heels and slipped them off her feet, setting them on the ground.

I moved back up to put my hand on her shoulder, shaking it to get her attention.

“Can I help you change, my love?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she finally shook off enough sleep to reply to me.

“Alright, could you sit up for me, darling?” she sat up straight with my assistance.

I slowly started to move the straps of her dress off her shoulders, giving her time to protest. When she didn’t, I helped her out of her clothes and pulled my shirt over her head. Then helping to pull her pajama shorts up her legs.

I threw the clothes into the laundry basket and grabbed the makeup wipes. I sat propped up against the headboard, guiding her to lay her head on my lap.

Starting to remove the makeup on her face, I admired how beautiful she looked like this. The moonlight shining through the window only partially lighting up her face, but she was still breathtaking.

When I was done, I tossed the wipes into the trash can beside the bed. Getting under the covers, I didn’t even have to pull her into my arms because she automatically moved to lay her head in the crook of my neck, her hand resting on my chest while she let herself fall back into a deep sleep.

I wrapped my arms around her in a protective manner and kissed her forehead, “I love you so much, my princess. Get some sleep.” I whispered, not sure if she heard me or not before she fell asleep.

In that moment, I made a silent promise to her that I was going to protect her with everything I had. No matter what it took.

#shuri x fem!reader #shuri x reader #letitia wright shuri #shuri x y/n #shuri angst #shuri fluff #shuri x you #shuri imagine #mcu shuri #shuri #shuri udaku x reader #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri fic #shuri black panther #queen shuri

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stariwrites · 1 year

Text

This is probably incomprehensible cause it’s 2am where I am but I had to get this out.

GN reader x Jason Todd, pining, summer, basically just that feeling where you’re hanging out and don’t want it to be over. The song they’re singing in this is Granite by Sleep Token. This is incredibly self indulgent.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Roy said, opening the car door. The lights blinded you at first, so used to the only glow coming from the radio.

Jason smiled, the two doing their excessive secret hand shake from a time where they were both younger, sidekicks of Batman and Green Arrow alike. You watched them in awe.

You wondered what it must be like to have that kind of closeness with somebody—not that you didn’t have close friends, but none of you had your own handshake or secret language that followed Roy and Jason. It made something settle heavy in your chest.

Roy looked back at you, giving you a fist bump. “You’re gonna join too, right?”

Warmth settled in your chest as you nodded with a smile. “I’d love to!”

He cheered stepping out of the car while Jason turned to face you from the driver’s side. He gestured to the now vacant passenger seat.

“You can move up front, if you want.”

If he noticed your surprise, he said nothing. You undid your seatbelt and got out of the car. Roy held the door open for you, dramatically. You smiled. Even though it was your first time meeting Jason’s friends it felt like you had known them your whole life.

“Why thank you,” you said hopping into the passenger seat.

Jason rolled his eyes at the display. “Get inside, Roy. It’s cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Shut up.”

You giggled while Roy finally went to go inside his house. The two of you waited in silence, making sure he got in okay. Once he shot a thumbs up from inside, Jason began to pull out of his driveway.

The music was quiet, calm. You watched the scenery as Jason drove. The night had crept in on the three of you, after visiting various places and restaurants it was time to call it a night.

“Thank you,” you said. Ending the quiet between the two of you.

“For what?”

You shrugged continuing to look out the windshield. “For inviting me, your friends are really sweet.”

He snorts, putting his blinker on. His eyes glow in the dim light of the car. He looks beautiful basked in the various lights of the moon and radio.

“Wait until you hang out with them more, they’re menaces I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one I guess.”

He scoffs. “Rude.”

“Am I wrong?”

He hums, pretending to mull it over. He keeps one hand on the wheel while the other rests under his chin. “I suppose not.”

You sit a little straighter, basking in your small victory. He shakes his head, noticing. He has that look in his eyes, the one that took you a while to decipher but one you figured out anyway. He did it every time you acted a little too dramatic or did one of your quirks.

At first you didn’t know what to make of it but now you know it means one word and only one word: Cute.

It isn’t until then that you notice the song playing and gasp. “I love this song!” You say excitedly.

Jason glances between you and the radio before turning it up.

“Sulfur on your breath. Granite in my chest. You will never have to talk about it. You never want to talk about it.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the action. Happily, you hum along to the song and begin to dance slightly. You catch Jason stealing glances through the corner of your eye.

“I was more than just a body in your passenger seat. You were more that just somebody I was destined to meet. I see you go half blind when you're looking at me. But I am.”

Without warning, Jason puts the windows down, allowing the summer night air to fly through the car. You laugh, looking at Jason. He wears a large troublemaking grin, his black hair flying in the wind. Your breath is stolen from your lungs just looking at him. For the first time since you’ve met him, he looks like any other twenty year old you’ve met; carefree and full of life.

“When you sit there, acting like you know me, acting like you only brought me in to get below me. Never mind the death threats. Parting at the door. We'd rather be six feet under than be lonely.”

You watch the houses pass by and think about how many people you’ve just woken up when it hits you. You’re going back home, part of you never wants this to end.

The realization is a bitter one: you don’t want to go home.

You want to stay here at this moment screaming to this song with Jason. Both of you head banging and laughing at one another while screaming the lyrics like you’re the only two people to exist in the whole world.

You wonder if you’ve ever felt this free before, when you watch Jason once more. He drums on the steering wheel, his voice deep and hypnotic, your heart twists. You wish you could hold his hand.

Before you know it, the song ends and the two of you pull up to your house. He turns the radio down and turns to you, hair still a mess. You smile fondly.

“Tonight was fun,” he says, carding fingers through his hair.

“It was.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and pull your arms over your head. “Not to quote Roy, but he’s right. We should do this again.” You hide the disappointment of the night ending tucked away. You open the car door just as Jason does.

He rounds the front of the car and hugs you. You return the hug, it’s comforting. You feel safe, always feel safe whenever Jason hugs you.

The two of you pull away as you nudge him playfully. “Let me know when you get home. Okay?” It contains the words you want to say but aren’t ready to. I love you, be safe.

Jason ruffles your hair. “I will relax.”

Satisfied with his answer you walk up your front steps and put your key into the lock. Before you get inside he calls after you.

“Hey!” His eyebrows pinch together. He goes to speak before hesitating. He finally settles on two words.

“Sleep well.”

I love you too.

#stariwrites #Jason Todd x gender neutral reader #Jason Todd x reader

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perpetualproductions · 5 months

Text

Never Be The Same- Chapter 4:

Life in the City

- Marie tells Jordan about the crash. They discuss their futures. Jordan makes a call. Also, what happened to the table?

(Title song: Life in the City by The Lumineers)

CW: this one's pretty chill again.

3k words

<-Previous | Next->

Marie’s keys jingle as she fishes them out of her purse and goes to unlock the front door to her apartment. The moment she begins to push the door open, the handle suddenly yanks out of her hand as Emma appears before her. She gives Marie a quick welcome as she hastily pulls Marie into the apartment. “Hey Marie! Welcome home! I gotta go, don't want to be late! Byeeee!” She closes the door as soon as she's out in the hall.

Marie is left standing there, very confused by her friend's behavior. I mean, she knew Emma was taking the late shift today, but she still had plenty of time to walk to the diner. Marie was a little late getting home because of the whole car accident, but still… strange. She turns away from the door, shaking off the confusion and is met with Jordan sitting on the couch in their fem form. They seem to have changed their clothes from earlier this morning, now sporting a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats. They are also holding a mug, taking gentle sips as they watch what looks to be Office reruns. Marie puts her purse down and hangs up her coat near the door, then slowly makes her way over to the back of the couch.

Jordan jolts a little when they feel hands rest on their shoulders, but immediately relaxes when they realize they're Marie's. They look up and see Marie smiling down at them, the same smile finding its way into their own face. “Hello there.”

“Hi,” Marie replies sweetly, running her hands down Jordan's arms and lowering her head to give them a gentle kiss.

Jordan hums as Marie pulls away, a smile still stuck to their face. “Good day?”

“Guess you could say that.” Marie makes her way around the couch, sliding in right next to Jordan. She kisses them one more time before continuing. “I sort of saved a man's life today.”

“Wait, really?” Marie nods and Jordan puts their mug down on the coffee table, pausing the TV before fully turning to face Marie. “What- that's awesome! What happened?” Jordan says, genuinely excited for Marie. They know how hard it is for Marie to accept that she's a real hero sometimes, and especially hard to see that her powers aren't only meant for hurting people (or herself). They've seen her use her abilities to heal before. Hell, the first time they saw her powers was when she healed that girl at the club their first night out. They never doubted her hero potential since then.

“There was a car crash when I was making my way home. I saw it happen right down the street from me, and without thinking I started running towards the two cars. In one car, there was a guy, who turned out to be a doctor by the way, and I healed a large gash on his head. He also had a broken leg, bone sticking out and all, super gross. But yeah, I couldn't really heal that but I stopped the bleeding.” Marie explained the whole scene, gesturing about, and Jordan was super invested in every word she said, smiling as Marie explained her great feats of the evening. “So yeah, he said he'd be fine, and he's a doctor so I trusted that he would be, so I made my way over to the other car. There was a man in the driver's seat, completely passed out, and I realized immediately that his heart wasn't beating,”

“He had a heart attack behind the wheel?” Jordan interjected, eye brows shooting up in surprise.

“Yup. I mean, that's definitely a scary time to have a heart attack, right when you're driving. But luckily it was only the two of them that were hurt. I was able to use my powers to get his blood flowing again and his heart beating. Then paramedics got there so I backed off and came home.”

“Wow. Marie, that's amazing! Your powers are so cool. You're so cool.” Jordan exclaims, squeezing Marie's arms and looking at her with pure adoration.

Marie smiles back at Jordan, loving their enthusiasm. But of course, she just shrugs it off. “It's not that big a deal-”

“No, Marie. We're not doing this minimizing bullshit. It is a big deal! You saved a dudes life, Marie! That's fucking awesome!” Jordan bounces up and down a bit, still grabbing onto Marie's arms and causing her to giggle at the situation. “Nobody else can do what you do, Marie. I'm pretty sure that doctor couldn't've saved that man's life as fast as you did.”

“Don't think he could've done much with a broken leg.” Marie added, getting a look from Jordan in response.

“You know what I mean. Just accept it, you're a hero. And I'll remind you everyday if that's what it takes for you to believe it too.” Jordan says with a tone that makes Marie think they might actually be serious about that.

“I appreciate the compliment but please don't actually do that.”

“Then say it.” Jordan says, leaning back and crossing their arms.

“Say what?”

“You're a hero.”

Jordan and Marie sit there looking at each other for a good few seconds. Jordan raises an eyebrow trying to get them to go on and repeat the phrase. Marie exhales, giving in as she repeats in defeat. “Fine… I'm a hero.”

A smile stretches on Jordan's face at their success. “It'd be better if you actually believed it, but I'll take it.”

Marie mirrors their smile back, relaxing in their presence. It's not like she doesn't want to believe it, she just can't see herself as a hero. Not after everything that she has done, all the people she's hurt. She knows it's ridiculous and that all that stuff wasn't actually her fault, but it's just hard to break out of an image that you've seen yourself in for so long. Jordan and Emma both try to remind her every day how good of a person she is, so maybe one day she will believe it as much as they do. She pulls herself closer to them, moving to hold Jordan's hands in hers. “If it makes you feel any better, I do believe that you believe I'm a hero.”

Jordan breathes out a small laugh, “I can believe for the both of us in the meantime. I know you'll see it too one day. It's inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Marie repeats, raising an eyebrow at the choice word.

“Oh yeah, there isn't a future I can think of where you're not saving people for a living.” They say matter of factly, a bit of playfulness in their voice.

“Oh really? You've been thinking about my future?” Marie teases, enjoying the blush in Jordan's cheeks.

“Maybe?... just a little.” Jordan lifts their hand as they hold their pointer and thumb close together and squint their eyes. “But am I wrong?”

“I mean, no. Of course I want to help people. Save people however I can. But I don't know how I can do that for a living. There’s vigilantism, but that's kinda illegal without a license from fucking Vought. Which is 100% a no go.”

“Right…” Jordan nods along, understandably. “But, there are other ways to help people. Just think of how non-supes help people. Police, firefighters, doctors.” Jordan pauses thinking for a moment. “Wait a second. You'd be a great doctor! I mean, you can control blood. You know, the very thing that keeps us alive? Just think of all the people you could help. You can sense their heart rates, see if they're bleeding - internally or externally- or detect things in their blood. Holy shit, you could 100% be a doctor.”

Marie thinks for a moment, genuinely thinking over everything Jordan has said. They're right, they could do all of those things and more fairly easily with her abilities. She hadn't really thought about it before, all the benefits of what her powers could do in terms of people's health. I mean, she's healed people before, sure. Stopped bleeding, healed wounds, restarted hearts. She thinks back to the doctor she healed earlier today, what he had said to her about her powers and how useful they could be. Really thinking about it, it almost seems ridiculous that she hasn't thought about this before. She's been back and forth for a while on what she actually wanted to do with her life, what major she’d pick when she went back to college. What she could have a career in that didn't involve being a Vought puppet. She considered the force, maybe a PI, but a doctor…

“I could be a doctor…” she repeats slowly, looking back at Jordan, staring at them as she processes her thoughts. Suddenly, she pulls them back in for a hug, “Oh my god, Jordan! You're a fucking genius!” She pulls away and gives them a hard kiss on the lips, before getting up off the couch.

“Uh, you're welcome.” Jordan looks up at Marie, smiling at the sudden outburst of affection. “I'm assuming you like the idea?”

“Yes! Fuck. I have to start applying to med schools. What are the best med schools in the country?” She looks around the room for a moment, searching for the laptop that they've all been sharing, courtesy of Andre of course.

“Laptop’s over here.” Jordan says, pulling the laptop off the side table and onto their lap. They open it up and begin typing. Marie goes back over and sits back down, leaning against Jordan as they search away.

—

The two spend the next couple hours doing what they've been doing for the past few days; applying to colleges and scholarships and doing research on which schools had what they were both looking for. Both of course applied to most of the Ivy league schools and other prestigious schools in the area. They didn't want to venture far from their immediate vicinity, opting to at least stay in the north east side of the country. Except this time, Marie actually knew what she wanted to do, taking her time to look through the best med schools and programs in the country, genuinely excited by the thought of being able to help people and save lives for a living, using her powers in a way she couldn't've imagined a year ago. In a way that Annabeth could be proud of.

Jordan on the other hand, wasn't so sure what they wanted to major in. They had enough credits from Godolkin to at least cover the general education requirement, leaving them the next two years to focus on a major. They debated on going back to crime fighting, but really hated the prospect of working for Vought. Maybe criminology? They always enjoyed their forensics class, but they weren't sure they wanted to spend all day in a lab for the rest of their life. They weren't too bad with technology either, so maybe computer science or cyber security. They even thought about taking the doctor route with Marie, but it just didn't seem as appealing to them as it did for her, and they wanted to let her have her own thing.

There wasn't much that they could use their powers for. They were more made for physical combat situations. Brink had literally described them as ‘the perfect weapon’ before, which they were. Both quick and steady, hard to hit and able to take a hit. Offense and defense in one being. So they debated law enforcement, which would be like crime fighting without the supe part. They could help people, protect them, catch bad guys, and it wouldn't be under Vought. But… Vought was still the fucking problem. Since Vought exists, police aren't really needed as much, more there to patrol the public and if something did happen, they would call Vought to bring in the closest supe to deal with whatever crime was being committed. Jordan didn't want to be on crowd control while fucking homelander ‘saved the day’. So yeah, no point in that.

Jordan started to truly despise their situation. Sure, they were very grateful for their powers, mostly the whole gender switching part. But if it weren't for compound V and all the other abilities that came with it, they wouldn't feel so restricted with what they could do with their life. There were only so many paths a supe could take. Become a crime fighting supe for Vought, a famous Supe actor for Vought, or be detained and possibly experimented on by Vought. Or you could try to be a normal nobody who keeps their head down and doesn't use their powers in public too often, in fear of Vought. So yeah, Jordan really hates the fucking world right now, mostly because Vought is in it. But over the last few months (especially after being around Marie Moreau more often), they realized that there are other ways to do things, they just had to discover them. How Marie just did with the whole doctor thing. But they were lagging behind, which just made them more frustrated. A phone call from their parents did not help at all…

It started off as a simple check-in. Jordan was very aware that they've been avoiding their family, but they were really just avoiding their parents (mainly their dad). Regardless, they did want to check in and see how their siblings were doing. They felt a bit bad leaving them with their ever bickering parents, but were happy that they finally didn't have to deal with it themselves. It's not like they could do much about it, their sister was 16 and their brother was only 12. It's not like Jordan could take them with them, and it's not like they wanted to or had to either. Their parents were annoying, but they weren't abusive. Jordan had their own thing going on between them and their parents, but their siblings were fine. They weren't supes and, as far as Jordan knew, they didn't have any gender fuckery going on.

So yeah, Jordan called, talked with mom, talked about Claire and Matthew (sister and brother, respectively), talked about dad, then talked with dad. By the end they were having an argument with both their parents (as fucking expected), all about college and Jordan's future and whatnot. Jordan once again insisted that their living situation was fine, that they have a job, and are in the process of applying to schools. What their parents didn't take so well was Jordan's intention of no longer majoring in crime fighting and going to the seven. After about an hour or two of going back and forth (hanging up at least twice, just to be called back), their parents eventually relented and gave Jordan a deal. Basically, as long as Jordan majors in something with good future prospects that will lead them to a successful career, they would pay for their tuition. But they would have to pick from one of the options their parents gave them and stick with it. Jordan hated the idea at first, but one of their options was cybersecurity, and they had to make up their mind at some point, so they agreed. They gladly hung up for the last time that night, not before their father told them how disappointed he was in them for their life decisions, but that just solidified the fact that they wouldn't be calling them again for a while.

A few hours rolled by and Jordan and Marie were done with applying for the day. It was getting late and Emma wouldn't be home for another hour, so they decided to pick up and head to bed early tonight. As they were about to make their way to the bedroom, Marie stopped and turned around. She had been getting the feeling that something was different with the space ever since she got home from work, and it hadn't clicked till now, exactly what was missing. “Jordan…”

Jordan stopped walking and turned around to face Marie, who was still standing in the middle of the living room, looking towards the kitchen. “Yeah?” They responded slowly, a bit of worry laced in their voice.

Marie turns around to face Jordan, a confused and questioning look on her face. “Where did the table go?”

Jordan moves to look behind Marie, looking at the empty space where the kitchen table used to be. “Table?... What table?”

Marie's eyes narrow as she steps closer to Jordan. “You know, the kitchen table. The one we had breakfast at this morning, before I had to run to work?”

Jordan's eyes are wide as they try to come up with the best way to go about this conversation, and not really finding it. “Right… that table. Umm… I don't know. Maybe Emma did something with it.” They shrug their shoulders, avoiding eye contact with Marie.

“Is that why she was in such a rush earlier? What did you two do with the table?” She's just straight up asking now.

“It's nothing bad.” They try to reassure her.

“Nothing bad? Well that makes me feel better.” Marie replied sarcastically.

“It's really nothing to worry about… we're going to IKEA tomorrow, by the way.” Jordan adds.

Marie pauses for a second. “Do I even want to know?”

“No. You don't. It's really not worth it.” Jordan says with 100% surety. They switch to their male form, their big brown doe eyes on display. “Can we just go to bed and talk about it in the morning? Please?” They plead with Marie.

“... Fine. You're lucky I'm exhausted right now.” She says, resuming her walk towards the bedroom, Jordan following after her.

“I love you.” Jordan says as they enter the room.

“Yeah yeah, just get over her and let me cuddle you.” Marie says tiredly as she pulls her pants off and crawls into bed.

“Yes ma'am.” Jordan says with a makeshift salute as they follow suit.

They both get into bed, Marie opting to be the big spoon, despite Jordan being in their larger form, but they don't mind it at all. The two cuddle together tightly before drifting off to sleep, Marie secretly dreaming of what could have possibly happened to that table, all scenarios sitcom worthy.

I'd say you have around a chapter or two till things start picking up. Anyways, thank you so much for reading this far! I appreciate it very much. Please feel free to leave comments on your thoughts or where you think this story might go. It's a little early to tell, but I'd like to see what you think so far. Thanks again to Venus (@paperdoll201 💜) for putting up with my long Limoreau rambles. Appreciate it.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Have a nice day!

Much love, 😎👍❤️

-PB

(what happened to the table???)

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oh-soo-diabolik · 1 year

Text

Family Trips and car rides.

warnings: swearing, emo life 👽🩵

“Pass me the fucking aux, you breast-less bitch.” His words tickle the edge of your ear.

With his body looming over the driver's seat, the drive was going to be a long and difficult one. Sucking your teeth you forcelt shove the white wire into Ayato’s hand.

“If you play some trash shit, I’m killing us all.” you sneer at the red head.

A snickering captivates your attention, your eyes flicker to its owner. Laito Sakamaki. “Including you, Laito. Anyway, why do you always have to-”

A sudden sound of music blasting through the speakers, shakes the car. “Jesus Christ, Ayato. Give us a warning.” You pester on.

The eldest brother Shuu, jumps in from his comfortable position, his blue eyes sends daggers into Ayato’s skull.

“Yeah whatever,— why does Shuu get to sit up front? You belong to yours truly, so it’s apparent who should be in front.” Ayato mutters, as he shifts back into the middle seat.

The once quiet car ride now filled with the sounds of cursing and screaming, this was going to be the longest five hour drive in vampire history.

“Yeah and because you, I’m a Vampire, done without my consent may I add. So now I’ll be ignoring you for the next two hundred years.” you retort, your hands grip the steering wheel.

You were now stuck with them for an eternity.

“Heh?! We live in the same house.” Ayato argues, you smirk in response as you glimpse into the rear view mirror at Subaru, who sat silently on the left of Ayato.

Dripping with anger and annoyance.

“I mean, Subaru did it for three hundred. I’ll get pointers from him if needed.” You snicker, Ayato glares at you, gritting his teeth. “Isn’t that right? Su.Ba.Ru~”

“Fuck you all, I hate it here. I want to die.” Subaru spurs, reaching for his airpods in his pocket. “Fuck, are we there yet?” he adds.

“Oi, Emo fuck, you think you’re the only one who wants to die?” Shuu chimes in, your eyes roll, they are the same as they were ninety years ago.

Only thing that seemed to change about them was their ‘human age’, they no longer the teenage boys you once knew, they were now college age and having an identity crisis, especially Reiji.

“Save the dying for after my birthday trip, why am I driving anyway? It’s my birthday.” You whine in annoyance, who in their right mind made the birthday girl/boy drive to their own birthday trip?

“Well, you’re the only one with a license.” Shuu says with a shrug, if you were in an anime you would’ve sweat-dropped by now.

You were always curious, how did an advanced species of creatures work around driving and insurance?

“So, how did you guys get around then?” You quickly shoot Shuu with a side eye reaction. Your tongue clicks as you notice the smirk on the blonde’s face.

“We have drivers.” was all he said.

“So why am I driving?” you question once more. “You fancy being a passenger princess?” You say with a teasing tone.

“Only if it’s you driving.” He grins, the sound of Ayato scoffing causes the blonde to stare at his brother. “What now?” Shuu says, his airpods wired casing, hanging around his neck.

“I want the front seat, lazy ass. Got too much dip on your chip.” Ayato taunts, Shuu howls with laughter.

“Fuck you and the dip. I’m the eldest, remember that. Her/Him and I fuck, not you.” Shuu continues to grill the younger Sakamaki.

“HUH?! I’ll kill you.” Ayato’s shouts, you let out a scream, you feel as all their eyes land on you.

“Now that I got everyone’s attention, shut up, my song is playing.” You mutter.

“Cut my life into pieces.” You begin.

As if creating a chemical reaction, the brothers (Subaru and Ayato mainly), begin to play their ‘role’ in the song. Subaru, guitarist, Ayato, the moral support.

“I should’ve burned in that village.” Reiji finally speaks up, his head leaning against the window as the car fills with laughs and terrible singing. Shockingly enough, Kanato was sound asleep, perhaps those edibles did come in handy.

end~

a/n; was in a goofy silly mood and decided to post this short fic for y’all. thinking of posting more like this. fanfic chap 2 is also coming soon ~ ya girls lazy.

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #sakamaki brothers #shu sakamaki #shuu sakamaki #diabolik lovers fandom

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marie-swriting · 2 years

Text

All Your life - Robin Buckley

Stranger Things Masterlist

Summary : Since you started dating Robin, you've been more and more distant with your friends and everyone feels like you're changing so much, even Robin who starts fearing she might be ruining your life.

Warnings : fluff, a little bit of angst, some jealousy, parties, bad friends, mention of dying because of the cold and car crash, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language so tell me if you see any or if I missed any warnings.

Word Count : 3.9k

French version

Song inspiration : Ruin My Life by Zolita

Hands on the wheel, you listen to Robin explaining to you Back To The Future passionately. She talks about every minute of the movie as she adds little comments about what she thinks. All your attention is focused on her, your eyes are also mostly set on her even though you’re driving. Robin is completely lost in her explanation so she doesn’t notice you’re distracted. When she finally realises, she reprimands you immediately.

“Calm down, I’m a real driver” You try to reassure her.

“I don’t want to die !”

“I know how to drive.”

“We'll talk about it the day you’ll have a car accident.”

“Hey !” you retort, appalled “Who is the one who has her driver licence between me and you ?”, you ask and she stays silent as you can see her annoyance on her face. “That's what I thought ! So you can’t criticise my driving.”

“I can when you put us in danger.”

“I know what I’m doing, Robs !”

“Yeah, well look at the road.” Robin orders you as she points in front of you.

“It’s not my fault if what you’re saying is interesting.”

“Do I have to remind you we listen with ears, not eyes ?”

“But I love watching your face lighting up when you talk about something you’re passionate about ! You’re even cuter when you can’t stop rambling.” You admit, making her cheeks turn red.

“Anyway, don’t make an accident !”

“Never, I care too much about you to put you in danger.”, you affirm, putting your hand on hers, “So you were saying ? Marty has to help his father ask out his mom to the ball ?”

Your question is enough to make her rambling once more. Robin starts analysing the movie again, but this time she makes sure you keep your eyes on the road.

Robin hasn’t finished talking about Back To The Future when you arrive at your destination half an hour later. You drove her to a lake you know. When you were younger, your parents used to take you there often. Not a lot of people know about it so you're pretty sure you’re going to be alone for your date. You set your stuff on the ground for the picnic. When everything is ready, you look at Robin with a mischievous smile and she knows nothing good is going to come out of your mouth.

“What ?” she asks, fearing the worst.

“I hope you brought your bathing suit, like I told you.”

“I was hoping you weren’t serious.”

“I’m more than serious.” You smile and Robin’s eyes get wide.

“But the water must be so cold !”

“Wimp. Come on, let’s go !” You say as you start taking your clothes off so you’re only in your swimsuit.

You run toward the lake and jump without wasting time. The water is, indeed, cold, but you don’t mind. You swim a bit before screaming at Robin to join you when you see her in her bathing suit. With reluctance, she walks to the water. She takes a deep breath before coming to you, swimming quickly. You laugh when you hear her teeth chatter.

“It’s so freaking cold !” She exclaims as you take her in your arms.

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna get used to it in five minutes.”

“Five minutes ? It’s too long ! I’ll have time to die because of the coldness.”

“Why do you absolutely think everything I want to do today will kill you ?”

Robin needs a second before answering you because of the cold.

“It’s not my fault if all of your actions can lead to an awful situation.”

“You’re not gonna die of hypothermia.” You state as you rub her arms to give her some warmth.

“If I don’t die in this cold water, I’m gonna get sick and that’ll kill me. I’m warning you, if it turns out true, I’ll haunt you.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Y/N !” She screams, horrified.

“I’m joking. I want you close to me, alive and in good health.” You reassure her before pecking her lips. “Let’s get out of the water ?”

“I thought you were never gonna ask it.”

She doesn’t give you time to answer before getting out of the water, hugging herself as much as she can. You laugh when you look at her like that, but deep down, you’re cold as well. You run to your car and pick up the towels and blankets. You go back to Robin and give them to her. She practically rips them out of your hands and dries herself fastly before enveloping herself in a blanket. When you’re done, you get closer to Robin, wanting to get both of you warm thanks to your body heat.

“You’re almost blue.” You say after looking at her closely.

“No shit, your lake is like an iceberg !” She retorts, her teeth still chattering.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“So you’re telling me you’re not cold, too ?”

You don’t respond immediately so Robin looks at you as if you were an alien as she thinks you’re warm.

“A little, yeah.” You murmur with a smile.

“Ah, see !”

When your body has returned to a normal temperature, you eat your picnic while Robin rambles on another subject. When you’re done, you lay down and embrace each other. You can’t be close physically as much as you want very often so you make sure to make the best out of it. In the middle of the afternoon, Robin’s head is on your chest and your hand loses itself delicately in her hair. You enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face, making this moment nicer. You close your eyes, relishing every second of it. At that moment, you think to yourself you could stay in that position all your life. You want to stay with Robin all your life. Your romantic thoughts are stopped when Robin whispers your name.

“Yeah, Robs ?” You answer softly.

“You know we’re going back to school next week ?”

“Yes, I’m aware of it. Why ?”

“What are we going to do at school ?”

You stop stroking her hair and lift up her chin. You see on her face she’s nervous, you frown as you try to understand the reason.

“What do you mean ?”

Robin sits on the blanket as she tries to find a way to share her thoughts. Worried, you get in the same position, guessing it’s a serious conversation.

“Are we gonna act as if we don’t know each other ? Or are we going to pretend we’re just acquaintances ? I mean, in a perfect world, I’d ask you if you wanted us to act as a couple in front of everyone, but it’s not the case, so what are we going to do at school ?” she asks quickly.

“I want to be able to talk to you whenever I want. I can’t kiss you in front of everyone but I don't want to act as if you’re a stranger. I mean, if you’re cool with it, obviously ! If you prefer for us to be low-key about it, I’m okay with it.”

“I also want us to be as close to each other as we can.”

“Perfect then. Let them think we’re just best gal pals.” You smile and Robin does the same. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Jason told me he’ll have a party this friday to celebrate the end of the summer holiday, do you want to come with me ?”

“A party at Jason Carver’s ?”

“I know it sounds bad, but we don’t have to stay near him. We can just dance or stay with my friends. You can even invite Steve !”

“I think Steve has a date that night. But are you sure I can come ? He didn’t invite me.”

“The more, the merrier he is. There’s gonna be so many people, he won’t even realise there’s one more person. Besides, like I said, we can stay on our own and if it really sucks, we can always leave.”

“Alright, let’s go !” Robin confirms while you lay back down.

At Jason’s party, you talk with your friends whilst you’re waiting for Robin ー you couldn’t drive her so Steve is the one who brings her before heading to his date. Even if you’re listening to your friends, your eyes are set on the front door. When you see her coming, you don’t pay attention to your friends anymore and walk quickly to her. You don’t give her the time to react and hug her. She hugs you back immediately. When you break the embrace, you take her hand and bring her to your friends with a big smile on your face.

“Girls, I don’t know if y’all know her so this is Robin. She’s in the school’s band.” You smile, proudly.

“You play the saxophone, right ?” Your friend Crystal questions.

“Huh, trumpet, actually.” Robin corrects her, embarrassed.

“Same thing.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin. Did you guys have classes in common last year ?” Chrissy asks.

“No, we became friends this summer. She needed my help to find a movie at Family Video.”

After Robin’s answer, your friends start talking to each other again until Chrissy catches Robin’s attention.

“The drinks are in the kitchen if you want.”

“Right ! You must be thirsty.” you exclaim, “Let’s go. We’re coming back soon, girls.”

You bring Robin in the kitchen and pour her a drink after she told you what she wanted. You stay in the room to discuss, completely forgetting about your friends. You didn’t have the time to see each other after your picnic day so you make up for the lost time.

You’ve been talking for the past hour when Carol, another of your friends, comes and drags you on the dancefloor because her favourite song is playing. You don’t even have the time to apologise to Robin, because before you know it you’re already in the living room. You dance with your friend for thirty minutes when you finally manage to escape her to find Robin. You want to make sure she’s okay and you want to go to the living room with her as well. You don’t have to search for her very long. You find her in the kitchen, an empty glass in her, talking with a guy from the basketball team. You think he’s too close to her. Your jealousy makes an appearance without realising it. You walk toward them and stand next to Robin with a fake smile.

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to talk with Robin.”

“Sure.” Joshua nods but he doesn’t leave, making you even more annoyed.

“We should’ve left ten minutes ago to be sure to bring you back home on time.”, you say to Robin and she looks at you confused, “You should call your mom to let her know we’ll be late.”

“Wh-”, she starts but you look at her with insistence, “Oh yes ! It’s true. I should go, you’re right. See you, Joshua.”

You look while Robin is leaving the room before setting your gaze back on Joshua. Just by looking at him, you understand he’s totally attracted to her, making your jealousy grows bigger.

“Y/N, where have you been hiding that beautiful friend of yours all this time ? I never noticed her before.” He states with a grin.

“She’s in the school’s band. She’s there at every single match of yours.” You answer dryly.

“Now, I’ll know. Tell me, you’re good friends right ? So you know what her type is ?”

“Sorry, but you’re not her type.” You say, hoping he’ll let go. “Besides, she’s already with someone.”

“You know what we say, it’s not because there’s a goalkeeper that you can’t score.” He laughs and you try to not roll your eyes. “Is it serious with that guy ?”

“Yes, very serious.”, you state, crossing your arms on your chest, “This person loves Robin very much, just like Robin loves them. You don’t have a chance with her, Joshua. I have to go. Robin’s waiting for me.”

You ditch Joshua in the kitchen and leave Jason’s house. You meet Robin next to your car. You get in it and you start driving while your anger calms down.

“What was that made-up story about my mother ? I’m sleeping at your place and your mom set up a curfew at one am, it’s currently midnight.” Robin wants to know.

“I just wanted to leave the party. It sucked.”

“But, you were having fun with your friends.”

“I… I just wanted to spend some time with you.” You lie, but she sees right through you.

“There’s something else.”

“Alright, okay ! Maybe I was a little bit jealous.” You admit, ashamed.

“Why ?”

“Joshua.”

“He was a bit unbearable, but he was nice.” Robin says, confused.

“He was flirting with you !”

“What ? Not true !” She retorts and you laugh a little at her obliviousness.

“Robin, I can assure you he was. He even asked me what was your type and if you were with someone.”

“Oh… What did you tell him ?”

“That he doesn’t have a chance”, you start before biting the inside of your cheek, “And… I might have let slip that you were with someone. I didn’t say it was a girl, especially me, obviously, but he knows you’re in a relationship. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, but my jealousy spoke for me ! He just upset me so much because he was sure he could try and hit on you even though I told him you weren’t his type.”

You don’t dare to look at Robin, fearing she’ll be angry at you. Though, you feel her hand on your thigh, she smiles at you before talking “At least, he’ll leave me alone. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

Like you agreed at the end of Summer Break, you keep seeing each other at school ; you talk, work and eat together. Some of your friends are surprised to see your sudden friendship with Robin seems that strong. Even though they don’t make any comments in front of you, they don’t hold themselves back when you and Robin are not around ; they’re especially mad that you’ve dared cancel a lot of your plans at the last minute because of Robin. Once, you didn’t even come to a cheerleading practice because Robin was sick, obviously, your girlfriend reprimanded you but you assured her it wasn’t that serious. Although, Crystal doesn’t hesitate before bringing up this moment whenever she can. Chrissy seems to be the only one of your friends to support your ‘friendship’ with Robin, she defends you when she hears the other girls talking behind your back. However, you know these ‘friends’ talk more and more against you. You’re not a fool, you see the looks they give you, especially if you mention Robin or if she’s close to you, but you don’t pay attention to it. You were never really close with them anyway and you knew since the beginning most of them were hypocrites so you’re not impressed. As long as you have Robin at your side, it’s all that matters. Crystal, Carol and the others can keep talking, you just want your girlfriend next to you.

One Friday night, in November, there’s a basketball game at school. As usual, you have your cheerleader uniform and show your support to the team. And for Robin, she motivates the players with her trumpet and the band. One of the advantages with those games is that you can watch Robin discreetly. It’s not rare that you laugh softly while you look at each other for too long.

That night is no exception. With your teammates, you do your routine as the audience applauds you. At a moment, You make the mistake to look in Robin's direction, resulting in you messing up the choreography and end up accidentally stepping on Crystal's foot. She sends you a glare but you pay no mind to it. Robin tries to hold back her laughter as she plays the horn. You keep doing your routine as if nothing happened.

At the end of the game, Hawkins High’s team wins so you do your special choreography until the players go to the locker room. When everything’s over, you and your teammates do the same. When you’re almost done changing, there are only two girls left in the locker room. You take your bag and walk to the door when Crystal stops you by standing in front of you, Carol next to her.

“Will you explain to me why you stepped on my foot ?” Crystal asks you with a questioning look.

“I just mixed up the steps, it happens.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve made a mistake like that since the beginning of the school year.” Carol notices and you roll your eyes.

“I just need to work on the routine more, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“You especially need to come to the practices and be focused.” Crystal retorts.

“Look, if you have something to say, tell me now instead of making insinuations.” You start getting angry.

“All I’m saying is you’re more and more distracted, particularly during the games. You’re always looking at the band.”

“You mean the audience ?”

“No, you’re always looking at the band in particular.” Crystal corrects you with a mischievous smile. “Isn’t that right, Carol ?”

“Usually you’re looking near Robin.”

“So what ? I can’t look at my friend from time to time ?”

“I just find it weird that since you became friends with Robin you’re less and less invested. And don’t get me started on the times you dumped us, brought her or sneaked out at parties because of her. I mean, isn’t she supposed to have a boyfriend anyway ? She could leave us alone a bit.” Crystal continues and you clench your fists.

“You should stop talking.”

“I don’t even know why you keep talking to her. She’s not mean but she’s weird, you have to admit it.”

“You take that back now. I forbid you from insulting her !” You lose your temper as you take a step forward.

“Calm down, I didn’t say anything mean !” Crystal defends herself. “Besides, last time you invited her, she didn’t stop talking about the last movie that came out at the movies. Like we get it, Breakfast Club is a masterpiece, but we don’t need to know every single detail about it.”

“It’s true it can be a bit annoying.” Carol nods, thoughtful.

“If you’re not able to enjoy her company, I don’t know why I even bother talking to you. Robin is my best friend and it doesn't matter if you like it or not, I’m gonna keep hanging out with her.” You state.

“That’s your problem, but stay focused during the games, I don’t need you to destroy my feet before the end of the year. I mean, that’s if Chrissy still wants to keep you on the team. With everything you’ve been doing since we're back to school, I wouldn’t be surprised if she kicks you out.” Crystal says, waiting for your reaction.

“You know what ? She won’t have to bother to do any of this because I quit.” You inform them, seriously. “I don’t want to be a cheerleader anymore and more than anything I don’t want to be friends with hypocritical people and people who need to bring down others.”

Mad, you pass by them and walk through the door. When you close it behind you, you find Robin with an awkward smile on her face. You throw yourself in her arms, needing her comfort. She hugs you back tighter. A few seconds later, you leave the school grounds and drive to Robin’s, because you sleep at her place. On your way home, she’s silent and you know her mind is preoccupied by something. You don’t ask her anything, knowing she’ll come to you when she’ll be ready.

Tired from your day, you don’t waste a second before putting your pyjamas on when you arrive. In the comfort of her bed, you hold each other in the dark. You slowly start falling asleep while Robin has her eyes wide open. Your breath starts being even when Robin shakes you a little. You open your eyes while Robin turns on the light on her nightstand. For a second, you block the light with your arm before looking at Robin sitting in front of you.

“Sorry”, she says about the light, “I just needed to talk to you about something.”

“Tell me.” You murmur with a sleepy voice.

“Did you really quit the cheerleaders ?” Robin asks you and you frown. “I heard you. I know you argued with your friends because of me. I didn’t want to create any problems, I feel bad.” She admits, avoiding your gaze.

“Robin, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s a secret for no one that they don’t like me and they accuse me of ruining everything you do.”

“They’re just stupids.” You state as you sit as well.

“They’re your friends.”

“Were.” You correct. “Besides, I was never close to them. I always knew they were waiting for the perfect excuse to put me down. There’s only Chrissy with whom I get along and I know despite me quitting, I’ll still talk to her so don’t worry about it.”

“But still ! You quit cheerleading because of me but you love it.” Robin exclaims, feeling guilty.

“I’m not gonna lie, I wanted to quit cheerleading for a long time now, let’s just say Crystal and Carol opened the door for me.” You admit. “And even if I had loved cheerleading, I still would have left, because they’re not nice to you. I don’t like what they say about you. I’ll kill my cheerleader pseudo-career if it means being next to you. And also, it’s only high school, I can always do another activity. It’s not a big deal.”

“I just don’t want you to change because of me.” Robin whispers and you force her to look at you.

“Believe me, if I’ve been changing since we’re together, it only means something good. Since we met, you help me accept myself. I want to stop trying to be somebody I’m not. I want to be the real me. And it’s thanks to you if I have the courage to do it now.”

“I still have the feeling I’m ruining your life.” She affirms and you shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind if you ruin my life, if it means having you in my life. I mean it, Robin. I’m glad to have you by my side, so stop thinking you did something wrong, because it’s not true.”

Robin takes you in her arms, not knowing what else to do. You hug her more while stroking her back.

“Thank you for defending me, by the way.” She murmurs in your ear.

“No need to thank me, I wouldn’t let them call you names ! Was that what was bothering you ?” You ask her, breaking the embrace and Robin looks at you, surprised. “I saw the look on your face when I joined you after the game.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been having some fears for a few weeks now and hearing your conversation didn’t help me. I started being afraid. I told myself if I was really destroying your life without realising it, it was only a matter of time before you’d leave me.”

“Never gonna happen.” You affirm. “I’m with you and I don’t intend on leaving. I want to stay with you all my life, if you’d let me.”

“That's all I want.”

You press your lips on Robin’s while you put your hands on her hair. Her hands make their way to your hips, bringing you closer. You kiss for a few seconds before breaking it. You smile at her while Robin turns off the light. You peacefully fall asleep, knowing you’ll stay together all your life.

Stranger Things Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #stranger things x y/n #stranger things one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley fluff #Spotify

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