#though at the same time I don’t mind if friends reply to me like months later since I’m never urgent about anything I text

[caravanlurker]

Hi I'm Lauren I'm new to this app, I'm just trying to make some friends. Can i be your friend?

Oh—sure! Cursory glance at your blog shows that we have a few interests in common. Who’re your top 3 Owl House characters?

[notiddygxthgf]

2/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: part two! its all smut lol. anyway, like I said, this one shot is finished (just split btw two chaps bc theres 11k words). but if u comment and persuade me who knows! I can always do another. im a whore for ur validation.

★ w.c.; 5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI COOCHIE <3

|  come over tn?

|  i got smth i wanna run by u first

YOU

|  omw.

You stood on Itadori’s porch, finger poised over the doorbell a month after your eighteenth birthday. You had been anticipating to see your best friend, Itadori. But as the door swings open, what you don’t expect is to come face to face with Itadori’s older brother.

Your heart drops, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his appearance. It felt for a moment as if time had stood still since you last saw him. He had only grown more handsome during your time apart. His dark hair was done back into two messy buns, deep bags residing beneath his deep eyes. 

Choso looked absolutely breathtaking . His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, showing off his toned physique, while the baggy black sweats he was sporting gave him an effortlessly cool appearance.

His presence exudes a magnetic charm that takes you back to when you were 17. His half smirk sends a wonton shiver down your spine.

“Hey there,” He says, deep, rich voice sending ripples of familiarity throughout your body.

When his lips pull away from his teeth, forming syllables and words, you couldn’t help but notice a small glint of metal near the tip of his tongue. You realized immediately what had seemed so different about him, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“You pierced your tongue?” You blurt out, unable to hide your shock.

Choso nearly snorts, though his eyes never leave yours. “You’re not surprised to see me?” He teases.

“I am,” You retort quickly, trying to regain your composure. “You’re home for the holidays?”

He nods, gaze still fixed on your red face. “Just came home last night.”

That would explain why I didn’t see you, you thought.

“I’m glad you came, though, I’ve been holding onto your birthday gift for a while now,” He sighed, stepping aside to let you into the house but keeping his arm braced on the doorframe. 

You slide under his muscular arm, doing your best to ignore the way your body bristled with electricity when you brushed up against him.

You set your bag on the ground near the door, kicking off your shoes and neatly pushing them aside while Choso locked the door behind you. 

“It’s in my room,” he said, passing you.

You followed him nervously up the stairs into his bedroom, heart pounding a little louder with every step. This would be the first time you would find yourself alone in Choso’s room, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

As you enter his bedroom, you drank in your surroundings – a rare sight. The room was a reflection of Choso’s personality; band tees all over the walls, sheets laid flat and clean, laundry sitting in a basket in a neat, folded pile – a subtle hint of organized chaos.

It felt both familiar and new at the same time. The air was thick with anticipation, and memories of your whirlwind summer fling with Choso came flooding back.

You brace your hands on the door. “Is Itadori home?” You ask him, hands tracing the doorframe while Choso rummaged through his drawer. You sat on his bed.

“Nah,” he replied casually.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to make sense of the situation. But told me to come over…

“Is he coming?” You tried again, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Choso rose up from the bedside drawer, extending a small box towards you with a slight grin. “Nope,” he said.

The realization hit you like a freight train. This was a fucking setup, and Itadori was the mastermind behind it all.

He wanted you alone with his brother. He knew about your fling with him. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

He knew.

He had set you up.

Your face was on fire. Still, you took the small box from Choso, an awkward smile on your face, and carefully undid the little bow. As you opened it, you revealed its contents – a tee shirt with Choso’s University crest on it, a glace pendant on a fabric necklace, and a box set of your favorite film saga.

Choso had never given you a gift for your birthday before, at least not anything beyond a card. Briefly, you wondered if it was his way of making up for your 18th birthday party, the one he had missed.

“Choso…” You began, a humorous grin on your lips. “Merch?”

He shrugged playfully, his gaze locked onto yours. “In case you miss me,” he replied, tone teasing yet sincere.

With a genuine smile, you leaned over and hugged him. “I love it,” you had told him.

Choso reached into the box for the necklace, gesturing for you to come closer. You leaned in, allowing him to loop the fabric over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin, your neck as he adjusted it.

He froze. You froze.

For a while, the room was quiet. There was an intense stare-off between you two. Choso cleared his throat, seemingly about to break the moment, but you had other plans. Gently, you gripped his chin between your index finger and your thumb, turning his head back to you. 

Gently, you tugged his lower lip down. He stuck his tongue out to wet the corner of his lips in return.

Your breath hitched as your gazes locked, and the air in the room shifted. Choso’s dark eyes shifted beneath your gaze, and you found yourself drawn closer to him.

You swallowed. “How bad did it hurt?” You asked, eyes fixed on the sliver of metal you had caught a glimpse of inside of his mouth.

Choso raised a finger towards his mouth, bringing your attention back to his tongue. “This?” He asked. “Hurt like a bitch, not gonna lie, but it healed up real nice.”

Wordlessly, he stuck his tongue out so you could see it up close. You examined it carefully – it really had healed up rather nicely. There was a small, silver ball wedged into the pink muscle. You wondered how it would feel on your lips, your neck, your body .

Choso closed his mouth. “I got it the first weekend after move-in day,” He explained.

“Why?” You inquired, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Thought it would look hot. What do you think?”

“I think it looks like a pain in the ass,” You retorted. “Don’t any of the girls you kiss complain about that thing?”

“Quite the contrary,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Why’d you ask?”

You tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled up inside of you, deep inside of you at the thought of him kissing other girls. You had to remind yourself who you were talking to here. You would have been naive to expect loyalty from a college freshman.

“Looks cold,” you commented instead. “I don’t imagine that would feel very good.”

And his eyes, those dark, beautiful cesspools of emotion, dropped down to your lips, lingering for a moment too long before returning to meet your gaze. “You wanna find out?” He asked.

“Piss off,” You scoffed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. But the blush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had on you. “Fuckin’ tease.”

He didn’t move back. No, instead, he leaned in a little closer. “You sure?” He whispered, warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. “I can show you how good it feels, if you want.”

And that’s how you wound up here, with his face buried between your legs. He kissed his way up and down the skin of your thighs. You made quick work of his twin buns, tugging the ties out of his hair.

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He lifted one of your legs onto his broad shoulder, running his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, pressing a kiss right where your ass met your legs. The metal ball on his tongue felt odd against your skin, but not necessarily unpleasurable.

You had never gone this far with him before. You were turned on beyond comprehension, hungry eyes drinking in the rosey hue that dusted his pale complexion while he sucked on your skin – hard enough for it to hurt, hard enough to leave a mark. 

Tenderly, Choso reached for your panties. He appeared to be on the precipice of a decision. 

“Can I…” He panted, trailing his thumb over the thin piece of fabric that separated the two of you. “Can I take these off?”

You nodded quickly, lifting your hips up for him while he guided the panties off of your legs. 

He licked his lips and parted your legs a second time, fully exposing you to his ravenous gaze. 

“You look like heaven,” He breathed out, voice trembling. He took a moment to admire you, smiling at the way you tried to hide your face. “Wanna taste…”

You had never done this before. The one man you had ever dared to hook up with hadn’t bothered. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him get down on all fours and dip his head down between your legs like a man with his head bowed in worship. 

Though you were far from holy, in that moment, you felt like you were God.

His tongue was hot and wet against your skin, licking a stripe from bottom to top. The metal ball of his tongue piercing caught on your puffy clit, eliciting a quiet gasp. 

“Feel good, baby?” He teased, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. His eyes flitted between you and your pussy – spread open for him like a buffet – pupils blown wide with desire. His pink lips parted around his tongue a second time, and this time you watched him.

Watched him press the metal ball against your clit, rolling over it in slow, steady circles.

You felt like you could die here. 

He adjusted his grip on your hips, pulling you down on the bed until you felt his nose pressing in between your folds. He kissed your heat, moaning into you.  Then, without so much as a warning, he began to eat you out like a starved man.

“Fuck, Cho–” You cried out for him, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his inky black tresses. You had never felt so good in your life, like he had been waiting for this as long as you had. You were sensitive, far too sensitive to comprehend the way your body felt, the way his tongue piercing felt as it glided over your hot flesh.

He didn’t slow down. He licked, slurped, and kissed your swollen clit, keeping that unforgiving pace up until your hips began to jump against his tongue.

“Shit,” You hissed,

He moaned into you in response, meeting your gaze with an intense fire burning behind his eyes. His tongue massaged you up to what you know would be the hardest orgasm of your life – that damn piece of metal made for one hell of a stimulant. It felt like it was pressing right up into your pressure points, deeper than his tongue was able to reach.

You felt yourself come apart at the seams, reduced to a moaning mess in a matter of minutes, riding his tongue like your life depended on it. He stopped moving for a moment, letting you grip him by the hair and ride his face. 

You couldn’t look away.

He looked amazing, fire burning behind his eyes, fingertips biting into the skin of your thighs, brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes never left yours, not even once.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, sitting back and allowing him to resume what he had been doing earlier – that thing with his tongue. 

And resume it he did, assuming a more demanding pace this time. It almost made you want to cry – the pace, the ball on his tongue – it was almost too much to bear. It felt so good.

You felt that familiar coil in your abdomen, almost like you were about to cum, then in a moment’s width he had pulled away. 

You struggled to regain your surroundings, vision cloudy and hazy with pleasure. You could hear your rampant heartbeat racing in your own ears. 

Choso leaned back with a stretch, cracking his neck and licking his lips. The entirebottom half of his face was drenched, dripping with an obscene mixture of your slick and his spit. 

He looked gorgeous, even when his face was tinted red. 

“Choso…” You breathed, letting a breathless chuckle slip between your parted lips.

He grinned back at you. “Any complaints?”

You didn’t glorify him with a response, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up and over you. You searched for his lips, locking them between yours in a messy, heated kiss. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet.

“Shut up and fuck me, Kamo,” You panted with a grin of your own.

That was all he needed to push you onto your back, diving back in to ravage your lips again. It was all a rushed, passionate haze – he tugged your tee shirt over your head, you shoved your skirt down to your ankles and kicked it off the side of the bed. He leaned back with a stretch to reach for the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side. 

Your mouth nearly watered for him. He was everything you had dreamed of and so much more. Well defined arms, pecs, abs – a few tattoos littered the broad expanse of his chest. His torso tapered down into a thin, slutty waist. You let your hand slide down his abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from him as your painted fingernails caught on his toned abs, ghosted over the large tent in his sweats that left nothing to the imagination. 

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated. The last man you were with was about 3 inches (which was probably for the better, because it had been your first time). He felt about three times as big as that. Maybe more.

It didn’t take long for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your ass flush against his navel. He reached for a handful of your hair, jerking your head to the side, then uttered against your ear, “G’nna fuck that attitude right out’ta you.”

He left you for a moment while he undid the strings of his sweatpants. You couldn’t watch. You knew if you saw it, you would have doubts. 

But you found yourself looking back anyway, right as he had told you. “Wanna reach into that drawer and grab me a condom?”

“Are you um…” You swallowed. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

You knew you were clean because you were so disgusted by the man you had hooked up with before Choso that you’d taken yourself to the planned parenthood in town the day after to be tested. Even if you had used a condom.

Choso’s brow quirked up at that. “No, I don’t have any STDs. I get tested twice a year.”

Oh. Okay.

Again, you didn’t want to think about how many women had taken his dick before you. 

“Never gone raw before, though,” He mused quietly, hand rubbing mindless circles over the skin of your ass. 

“Really?” You asked.

“Is that a surprise?” He retorted, though he didn’t seem very hurt by your comment. “Can’t babytrap me.”

You thought about definitely didn’t think about Choso being a father. 

“Is there any way for you to, like…” You hummed, trailing off. Your inexperience had never been more disgustingly apparent. “Pull out?”

“You’re talking like this is your first time,” he laughed breathily.

You paused. His eyes widened.

“Is… this your first time?” He asked again.

“I had sex with this one guy from my class a while ago,” You said after an awkward silence. “He was small and, like, really bad at it.”

Choso seemed humored by your honest admission, though it came at the expense of your own embarrassment. “Why’d you go through with it, then?”

“I only did it to get back at you,” You turned your head back to the pillowcase below you. With a pout, you admitted, “Thought for some reason that by me having sex, I was proving something. I was younger and stupider, okay?”

“So… you’ve only had sex once?” He asked. You didn’t realize this was an interrogation. 

You nodded embarrasedly. Somehow this was more humiliating than being spread open for him like you were right now.

“You sure you want this?” He hummed, roaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was strangely intimate. When you nodded, he sighed. “We’ll go slow, then. I don’t wanna hurt you–”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” You cut him off, finally turning back to look at him. “I can take it, okay? Just answer the damn question.”

Choso leaned down over you, pinning you into the bed, kissing down your spine. “We can… do backshots,” he murmured against your skin. “Want that?”

“Mhm,” You sighed, easing into his touch.

You had waited far too long for this for something like a condom to get in between the two of you. You wanted to feel him. All of him. 

Choso rolled back, slipping his tip between your fold and swiping it through your slick. You watched him, watched the way he bit his lip at the sensation, eyes glued onto the place where you met him . 

He pursed his lips, letting spit fall from his lips. You watched it dribble down, landing right onto your twitching hole. 

That was so fucking hot .

Then, without a word of warning, he pushed the tip in. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, feeling the burn, the stretch of his girth inside of you. He paused for a moment when the tip was the only thing inside of you, brows drawn together, breaths shallow.

It took everything you had not to cry out in pain. You had been waiting your whole life for this.

But, shit, it hurt. He was big. You felt your body struggle to accommodate him.

Maybe some prep should have been in order…

Oh well, gotta see it through.

As if sensing your internal dilemma, Choso reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed a soft kiss to the back of your neck. 

“You okay?” He asked you.

No . Yes.

“Yeah,” You bit out. “Just… I ‘jus need a minute.”

“Just tell me when,” he pressed another kiss to your hot skin. “You’re doing so good.”

It took you a few more minutes to adjust to him. Every minute, he would slip in a little further, just enough to make your skin hot and flushed. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, throbbing against your spongy walls.

Eventually, you gave him the green light. And, fuck, it was like something inside of him had snapped. He slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush with your ass. He drew out, slowly, then thrust back in again.

It felt like he was pulling you apart over and over again, snapping his hips against yours in a progressively harder fashion. 

Choso whimpered quitedly, pausing his harsh movements to change pace. You clenched around him in response, something that made him double over. “Ah, fuck,” He gasped. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He drew back, thrusting into you once more. You felt your whole body jolt forward with a loud moan of your own.

With wild, passionate eyes, Choso pulled out again, leaving just enough room for the tip. Then, he slammed back into you. Again, again, again – he was relishing in the way you cried into the pillow.

“Fuck, fuck,” You chanted, like some sort of sinful prayer. “ Fuck me, Cho– ”

“Might not last long if you keep callin’ my name like that,” He gasped, tangling a large hand into your messy tresses and gripping it tightly. 

You drew your brows together, allowing yourself to be lost in the pleasure, the attention he was giving you. What would Itadori think, you wondered, if he walked in on you like this – face down ass up in his big brother’s bed?

“Choso ,” You groaned into the pillow. It felt like he was scratching an itch deep inside of you – not your coochie, but your soul. It felt like you were made for this. “ Choso, Fuck. ”

Itadori slipped into his house with a quiet sigh. He kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the floor, and then reached for his scarf. It had been one long, hellish day. He felt bad making you wait for him, but he didn’t doubt that you would have made yourself right at home in his bedroom by now. You were probably sprawled out over his bed, passed out or playing with his PS5.

He froze when he heard something come from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being moved around, or something like that. There were voices, too.

With knitted brows, he walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Was it coming from up there?

“Fuck, Choso,” He heard a vaguely familiar – albeit very muffled voice – moan. 

It was you. You and another muffled voice.

“Choso, Choso!” 

“Right there?”

“Fuck– yes! Don’t stop!”

He quirked a brow. Then, with a sigh and a dejected shake of his head, he hid away in the kitchen.

“Please!” You gasped, you fumbled around behind you in search of his hand. He grabbed it, pinning your arm behind your back and thrusting into your sore pussy from a new angle – one that made you feel dizzy. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been going at it. All you knew was that you never wanted it to end, that your mind was a blissful haze.

Your body slid up against the bedsheets – up and down, up and down, clenched fingers leaving wrinkles in their wake. 

“Fuck me harder,” You pled.

And fuck you harder he sure did. His chest rolled against your backside, pinning you into the mattress and holding you right where he wanted you. Then he fucked you a little harder.

You were all but screaming his name at that point. “Choso–” 

The head of his cock was bullying into you, beating against that spot deep within you that made your feet fly up, rubbing the back of his thighs as if to tell him ‘ keep going’.You gripped the sheets with unwarranted strength, feeling yourself drip and clench around him – hearing the obscene squelch you made when the two of you met in the middle. 

“ Fu-u-uck ,” You cried, voice high and weak.

“Quit suckin’ me in like that,” He chuckled, though it was cut short by a deep, guttural groan as you did it again. “ Shit , you want kids or somethin’?”

There was a knot in your stomach. A vaguely familiar warmth that seemed to only grow hotter by the second.

“ So perfect, so wet ,” Choso commended you, licking the shell of your ear, peppering butterfly kisses to the back of your neck. Your name fell out of his pretty lips between a cacophony of sinful noises.

You felt yourself get lost in him, craning your head around to take another look at him. His angelic face, scrunched up with pleasure, mouth hanging open just slightly, pale face dusted with pink. Inky black hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The muscles in his chest and torso rippled.

“I’ve wanted you…” You gasped, trying your best to articulate despite the stimulation he was giving you – it was almost too much. “Since I was young – fuck .”

His hips stuttered. He pulled your hair away from your neck, kissing the junction where your jaw met your neck. 

He gripped your hair to crane your head back, slowing his thrusts to long, deep strokes that had you trembling. 

“The feeling was mutual,” Choso grunted, trying to keep himself together.

You felt your eyes roll almost all the way back into your fucking head, mouth hanging open, drooling shamelessly on his pillow, his sheets.

You were close. So close.

Those deep, lust-filled eyes of him weren’t doing anything to slow the train that was coming. Each thrust, each slide of his cockhead against your g-spot brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel even better than I imagined,” He growled, and you nearly came right then and there. 

He moved his hands so that your hips were up in the air for him, bringing his other arm around your neck to pin you there. When he picked up pace this time, you felt yourself drip – like, actually drip – all over him.

I wanna have his kids .

Your moans and pleas matched the pace of his sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, too. You could hear it. No, seriously, noises like that should have been criminal.

The feeling of being filled by him was driving you up the wall – almost as hard as he was currently driving you into the mattress. You never wanted it to end. 

But, shit, it was about to.

“Choso,” You whimpered. He didn’t slow down. “Think ‘m g’nna cum.”

“Yeah?” he gritted out, breath fanning over your neck and your cheek. He reached a hand down, releasing your neck to rub slow circles on your puffy clit – a speed that felt foreign compared to the harsh strokes he was giving you, but not entirely unwelcome.

That was all it took to have you hurling towards the edge, ass jumping up and down to meet his thrust in the middle, to take as much of him in as you possibly could.

“Yeah, shit,” He gasped. He was trying to hold on for you, but you were making it realhard. “G’nna cum for me, baby? Lemme fuckin’ hear it.”

You were all but throwing it back on him, mindlessly chasing your release like a bitch in heat. The moment you got the green light, your orgasm snapped. You cried out his name one final time, arching your back all the way into the sheets, spasming wildly around him. The shock tore through you in waves.

Your hips jolted with hypersensitivity while he fucked you through it.

Choso’s hips stuttered. He twitched, like he couldn’t take another minute of this, then he remarked, “That was so fuckin’ hot, holy shit – fuck, wait–”

He slid out of you rapidly, leaving you to gasp at the sudden loss of him. The next thing you know, he was stroking himself to completion. He came with a broken whimper of your name, spurting ropes of warm cum all over your back.

You took a moment to catch your breath. He did the same. A few moments, actually.

The silence that followed was deafening. He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. You collapsed into the bed.

He had left the bedside at one point, though only for a moment before he returned with a warm wash rag. He cleaned his love paint off of your spine.

Then, tossing the rag into his hamper, he collapsed next to you.

You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him with all of the strength you had left in you (not much). “Shit…” 

“Shit,” he agreed, licking his lips. “You were great.”

“You were better,” You said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home tonight, though.”

Choso shrugged. He reached down, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Sleep here, then.”

Sleep here.

You recalled many nights of him walking girls to the door. Choso never let girls stay the night.

He wants me to spend the night with hiim.

You laughed, reveling in the irony of it all. Years and years of pining led you here, to this. “What would Itadori think?”

Choso threw an arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “Fuck what Itadori thinks.”

Your world went black a moment later.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the aftermath of a steamy evening with the man of your dreams. Choso, your best friend’s brother. The one you had fucked.

His lips were pressed into the slightest pout. You watched him snore, taking note of how peaceful he looked while he slept, taking note of the way his tousled black hair fell into his pretty face.

With a contented sigh, you reached for a shirt that lay nearby – his shirt. The one he had taken off yesterday. You slipped out from beneath the covers, padding quietly out of Choso’s bedroom. Your feet were quiet against the wooden steps.

As you entered the living room space, you contemplated sneaking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed sustenance. It had to have been later in the afternoon at that point – you assumed that you and Choso had been sleeping for a few hours, at least. Your stomach grumbled in agreement.

Just as you were about to step into the familiar kitchen, however, you froze. There, sitting at the table, munching on a Kit Kat bar like it was no one’s business, was her best friend. 

Itadori.

“Hey…” You said rather awkwardly, heart racing. “You’re… you’re home.”

Itadori quirked a brow, looking you up and down curiously. His eyes noticeably lingered on your neck, right were you had a sneaking suspicion Choso had marked you with his lips and teeth. 

“Hey,” He finally said. “You two finally done up there?”

“You heard that. Of course you did,” You sighed, dropping your stiff arms and plopping into the stool next to him at the kitchen island. You faceplanted into the cold surface, groaning, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know my brother’s good in bed,” Itadori took another bite. He placed a heart over his chest, feigning an exaggerated cry of, “ Choso– oh, Choso, don’t stop, I’m cu–”

“He told me you weren’t coming home,” You groaned, even louder this time. You were glad that Itadori couldn’t see the nasty shade of red that had painted your features.

“He lied,” Your best friend chuckled, crumpling the wrapper of his Kit Kat bar and tossing it in the trash bin. He stood off, dusting his hands on his pants, reaching for his phone. Then, like nothing had happened, he said,  “I’m ordering Chinese. You want?”

You raised your head at that, taking a slow glance at the room around the two of you. “I could go for some beef and broccoli…”

You loved the bond you had with Yuuji. Unbreakable, truly. Sometimes a little toocomfortable. This was, undoubtedly, one of those times.

Itadori dialed a few numbers into his phone. He paused, raising his brow again, “I think you’ve had enough meat tonight, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You sighed, though you laughed a bit at his joke. 

Images of Choso flashed through your mind. The image of him spitting on the tip before slipping it in. The image of him tangling a fist in your hair, craning your head back to look at him while he pounded you into the mattress.

With a faint smirk of your own, you remarked. “You’re probably right. I should save room for all of the meat I’m gonna be eatin’ tonight after you go to bed.”

“Please shut up,” Itadori sighed, running the palms of his hands over his exasperated face. With a shake of his head, he held the phone up to his ear. “I really don’t want to think about my brother putting his dick in you. Not while dinner is also in the question.”

You shrugged. Your phone buzzed. Turning it over, you read the new message you had received.

CHOSO    just now

Whered u go beautiful

Your phone chimed a second time.

CHOSO    just now

Steamed dumplings n fried rice plz

You turned the screen over with a grin, telling Itadori. “Your brother wants steamed dumplings and fried rice.”

“I’d say fuck my brother, but tonight’s game night and I don’t want you taking that literally,” Itadori sighed. Still, he unmuted himself, telling the woman on the other side of the phone, “Another order of fried rice and dumplings, too, please.”

Yuuji Itadori really was the best friend a girl like you could ask for.

a/n: hi there my little steamed dumplins <33 lmk what u thought!!! I love reading ur comments and dms. again, this is a one shot, but I would totally drop another part if yall would like -- gotta show papa choso some love. comment and lmk what u think pookiesss

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

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[irisintheafterglow]

what if all i need is you? (college bsf!suguru x you)

summary: after failed attempts to find a date to a relative's birthday party, your best friend acts as your fake boyfriend.

wc: 2.8k

cw/tags: fake dating, best friends to lovers, first kiss, implied fem!reader but no specific pronouns used (wears makeup and heels), swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, reader is kinda mean at the beginning but they're just stressed, satoru being satoru

note: back on my suguru bullshit! hope you enjoy :))

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <33

“You remember the plan?”

“Yep, I had it down the third and fourth times you repeated it.” You send him a glare out of the corner of your vision, carefully pulling the mascara wand up across your lashes. The dim car lights weren’t the ideal environment to finish getting ready, but whatever time you could waste out here was time you didn’t have to spend at the party. 

“It’s all there. $250, like we agreed,” you say without looking at him as he flips through the stack of money from the yellow package hiding in the glove compartment. “I’m not giving you more, so don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” he reassures you, watching as you tensely tap fine glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes and spread it over your cheekbones. He inhales and you already anticipate what he was going to say. “You know, I really shouldn’t be taking your money–”

“I don’t care that you don’t want the money, Suguru. It makes me feel better, so please, shut up and take it,” you state for what felt like the tenth time. He sighs in defeat, eyeing you like you were a tiger pacing around a cramped cage in a zoo. Having your best friend go with you as your fake date to a relative’s birthday party both complicated and simplified things at the same time, which made you all the more tense for what might happen. 

Date me for a month and earn $250! No commitment, no long-term relationships! Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXX for more info! is what the flyers that you stuck to the bulletin boards around campus proclaimed. It was a last-ditch effort to find a date to your grandmother’s cousin’s birthday party and a direct result of your family being too curious about your dating life in college. The plan was simple, in your head. You would find a random person to pretend to date for a month, bring them to the party, and then break up with them a week later. No harm done and no questions asked, right?  

“Any takers on that dating flyer yet?” 

“No,” you groan, letting your forehead hit the desk with a dull thud. It was harder than you thought it would be to find someone to act as your fake boyfriend. “All they want is sex or to negotiate a higher pay. They think I’m a hooker or a trust fund baby, I guess.”

“I can confirm that you are neither of those things,” he chuckles from the other side of the line. “Unless, you have some news to tell me.” You snort and shake your head, taking notice of the darkness outside your window. It must have been hours since you first started your phone call with Suguru and forced him to help you through a homework assignment, and the rumbling in your stomach was becoming a little more insistent. 

“Shit. It’s late, so I’ll let you go. Sorry for keeping you for so long.” You start to tidy the various study sheets and highlighters scattered across your desk, carefully straightening the polaroid of you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko on the day of your high school graduation. “Thanks for helping me, even though I’m gonna forget all of this in a few hours.”

“I don’t mind teaching you again. Have you eaten yet? Because I’m starving.” The rumbling in your stomach becomes more of a growl at the mere mention of food and you silently curse him for reminding you that all you had in the cupboard was instant noodles. “If you say no and then proceed to make those sodium bombs you call food, I’m gonna hit you with an inflatable mallet.”

“Okay,” you reply. “Then, I won’t tell you.”

“Smartass,” he mutters and you hear the clinking of his car keys being grabbed from off the hook above his desk. “I’ll be there in ten. Grab a jacket; it’s chilly out.” Twenty minutes later, you’re bundled up in a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop near campus, barely able to eat from sheer anxiety. It was a shitty situation you’d found yourself in and the only way to get through it unscathed would be to disappear off the face of the planet. Your best friend seems to notice you poke at your noodles with your chopsticks and sets down his pair with a determined look. “Alright, what’s bothering you?” You shrug and avoid his eyes, leaning back into the dark corner of the booth. 

“Nothing,” you mumble and he raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m just stressed about this stupid party thing.”

“Remind me why you need a date for this in the first place?”

“My grandma’s cousin is super old. Like, one foot in the grave old,” you state plainly and some water shoots out of Suguru’s nose as he tries to cover a laugh. “I’m serious! I’ve never known her and, from what I can gather, no one really likes her anyways.” You hand him a clean napkin with a small, amused smile while he continues to cough uncontrollably, humming at the small thank you he manages to choke out. “But, my family wants me to at least act like I have a boyfriend for the night so she can have peace of mind.” You give him a knowing look and it takes him a few seconds to put the pieces together.

“Wait, your family wants you to pretend to have a boyfriend so your grandma’s cousin can die at peace?” You nod slowly and his face contorts into something like horror and shock, unsure of whether to laugh or feel sorry for you. “Shit. Sorry, I mean–”

“No, it’s okay,” you giggle. “You can laugh. It’s fucking ridiculous. To be fair, they just told me to find a boyfriend. They didn’t specify how long we had to be together.”

“And that’s why you put the flyers up,” he concludes, “to hire someone to play your boyfriend for the night.” You nod again and he shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind.” Your jaw drops in indignance and you threaten to drop an ice cube in his ramen in retaliation.

“I think it’s a pretty smart idea,” you argue.

“What if the guy catches feelings?”

“Sucks for him. I’m not paying him to fall in love with me,” you reply bluntly and Suguru shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Is what I’m doing wrong? I’m only seeing it as a business transaction, plain and simple.”

“A business transaction that hasn’t actually transacted yet, and the party is when?” You feel your face start to heat in embarrassment. He made a good point.

“Tomorrow,” you mumble. “The party’s tomorrow night.” 

“See? There’s no way you’re gonna find someone good enough in time.” 

“Well, what do you propose I do? Skip it entirely and kill the old lady early?”

“That’s definitely not what I was suggesting,” he corrects. “What if you just…took me instead?” You freeze, a little shocked by his idea. It was true that a certain amount of attraction existed in you towards your best friend, something that you swore never to act on for fear of losing his friendship. You never bothered asking if he felt the same because you knew him too well; you knew how he was around girls he liked, even though the last one was when you both were in high school. Sure, it was possible that he started liking you once you started college, just like you noticed him in a different light during your first semester. But either way, you were resigned to letting the feelings come and go as they usually did. Except, the feelings hadn’t left for three years. “Are you silent because you’re mortified or silent because you’re thinking it over?”

“A little bit of both,” you admit.

“How so?”

“You do know my family has been wanting us to get together for years now, right?” An unreadable look passes over Suguru’s face, a look that you can’t decipher even after knowing him for so long. 

“I’m well aware. Your parents have pulled me aside several times trying to pass along family heirlooms to use when I inevitably get on one knee.” Your eye twitches and you make a mental reminder to scold your family when you see them next. “But why is that an issue?” Truthfully, it wasn’t that much of an issue if you set aside your own feelings. Having Suguru there meant that he already knew the dynamics of your family, how to handle your relatives, and had a general grasp of what to expect at the party. It simplified things, but your own harbored feelings complicated any thought of acting like a couple. It would feel too real and you knew how much it would hurt when the clock struck midnight and you went back to being friends. That’s a little too much to unpack over ramen, though. 

“I just don’t want them making you uncomfortable,” is what you settle with telling him. Something like disappointment blinks across his face, but disappears just as fast as it comes. It’s replaced with a wry smile, one that makes your head fuzzy and stomach bubbly. 

“They won’t. My only focus is you,” he promises before launching into a new conversation about his latest biochem project. Now, ten minutes after your heels crossed the threshold of the front door, Suguru was doing a little too good of a job of only focusing on you. Even though the music of the venue blares and there’s enough family and friends to stampede you like poor Mufasa in the Lion King, Suguru doesn’t seem to care about any of it. He falls into his role as your ‘boyfriend’ as easily as the last piece of a puzzle being maneuvered into place, holding your hand with a steady grip, then snaking it around your waist, and sending you fond smiles when nobody's watching. Your parents are delighted, to say the least, and drag him away from you at the first available moment. You settle in a corner of the ballroom with a small plate of pickings from the dessert table and wait for him to return from his interrogation with your parents. 

“It’s about time you two got together,” a familiar, sing-songy voice says quietly from over your shoulder and you flinch, instinct telling you to stab him with your ornate plastic fork. You turn and find your other best friend wearing a tie and a shit-eating grin, tucking a silver hors d'oeuvres tray under a lanky arm.

“Satoru! What the fuck are you doing here?” You glance around to see if anyone has noticed you recognizing a random waiter and, thankfully, everyone is too engrossed in gossiping about your fake boyfriend for the night.

“I’m Suguru’s backup just in case things go south,” he drawls and you pinch the bridge of your nose with two fingers. “Here to cause a scene if something goes wrong.”

“You’re here to sabotage my relative’s birthday party?”

“Here to potentially sabotage your relative’s birthday party.” He sticks up his index finger in emphasis and you groan, rolling your eyes and popping another small brownie into your mouth. He copies you, plucking a cupcake from your plate and swallowing it in one bite. “I gotta say, it took you long enough. I’ve been in agony watching this entire thing pan out.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you high?”

“Not right now, no, but maybe later.” He shoots you a grin even though you know full and well none of you smoke. “I’m just saying that I’m happy you’ve finally realized your feelings for each other.” 

“What feelings? There’s no feelings,” you lie straight through your teeth and he sees through it like glass. 

“I may be stupid, but I’m not blind. If you don’t see that Suguru likes you back, then you’re the one with vision problems. Sucks for you.” He shrugs and you flick his arm lightly, glaring daggers at him but unable to fight down the curiosity poking at the back of your mind. 

“You think he actually likes me back?”

“He’s liked you since senior year, idiot,” he scoffs like your question was a funny joke. “I’m not here to fill in if he gets food poisoning from the questionable shrimp cocktail; I’m here to support either of you if your feelings get in the way and your dumbasses can’t communicate efficiently.” 

“That’s…really thoughtful of you, Satoru,” you mutter and he raises one eyebrow teasingly. 

“Wasn’t my idea. It was Suguru’s. ‘In case something happens and they’re not comfortable with me taking them home, for whatever reason.’ That’s what he made me promise and why I’m pretending to be a waiter for the night.” His attention darts upward to his best friend approaching your table and he pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Speaking of. Go get your man.”

“I hate you, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” He knocks his shoulder against yours before disappearing into the kitchen, on his way to probably steal a bottle from the wine cellar. 

“Uh oh, looks like you’ve found my undercover operative,” he jokes as he sets a drink in front of you and steals a cookie from your plate. 

“Actually, he’s the one who found me. You should fire that guy for blowing his own cover,” you remark and the corner of Suguru’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “It’s nice of you to ask him to be here in case something went wrong.”

“I’m an engineering major. We plan for the worst case scenarios.”

“What’s the best case scenario?” His eyebrows furrow in question but you don’t relent. No turning back now. “What’s the ideal outcome of this situation, besides the money?” He thinks for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek when a slow song starts playing through the loudspeakers. 

“Dance with me,” he replies, holding out his hand for you to take. Way to change the subject. “Please?”

“You’re not getting out of my question.” You let him lead you to the dance floor, trying not to get goosebumps as one of his hands finds your waist and the other laces his fingers with yours. “Why’d you offer to do this with me, anyway?”

“What, dancing? Or coming with you to the party?”

“Second one.” That unreadable look crosses his face again, the same one from the ramen shop when he first brought up being your fake date. It felt like anything he said was just covering up a truth that you both were dancing around; but, something in the air made you want to face that truth tonight.

“Because I’m your friend,” he murmurs and you can’t help feeling a little let down by his answer. You let it show in your face, but he’s avoiding your eyes. “That’s what friends do for each other.” He clears his throat and tries to blow a stray strand of black hair from his face, going deathly still when your own fingers brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.

“We’re just friends?”

“What do you–”

“What if I wanna be more?” His eyes finally snap to meet yours and his pupils are blown wider than you’d ever seen before, deep and dark and staring at you so intensely, you’re glad he’s supporting your waist. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze flicking up and down between your eyes and your lips. 

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers so quietly that you wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t inches away from his face. “I don’t wanna mess up what we have.”

“I don’t think we would be messing it up,” you point out just as softly. “If anything, we’d be making it better.” His thumb comes up to trace the outline of your jaw, sending chills up your spine.

“Are you sure that you want this with me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“I don’t know, because I feel like I don’t deserve you and–”

“Okay, stop talking,” is the last thing you say before you tilt your head up to press your lips against his. You’re careful and frustratingly gentle, giving him ample opportunity to pull away and reject you. But, to your delight, he kisses back with more fervor than you, like he’d been waiting for years to experience this feeling. He sighs into your mouth as you grab the collar of his button up and pull him even closer, his hands holding firm at your waist until you pull away to breathe. 

“Make sure you take down those flyers once we’re back on campus,” he breathes into your ear. You let your eyes flutter shut and hum in assent, leaning your head against his. 

“Why do you bring them up?”

“Because your fake boyfriend just got promoted to real boyfriend.” You initially dismiss the single click and bright flash as the photo booth serving its clients, but are also equally unsurprised when Suguru meets you outside your 9:00 A.M with a Polaroid between his fingers of you two dancing at the party. And the caption?

First kiss! (Taken by Gojo Satoru, ultimate wingman)

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[multifandomgirl08]

Glass Houses - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

Warning(s): Jos Verstappen (Being himself/an asshole), Mixed formatting (Story + Article), Max and Reader get into an argument about Reader going and meeting Jos, Max opens up to Reader about Jos, Max and Reader making up at the end

A/N: Although this chapter, like Stones To Throw, is pretty heavy in terms of topic. These were some of my favorites to write for this series. This is also the longest chapter of this whole series.

Words: 4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on. You and Raymond never talked much without Max around.

Max was at Milton Keynes for testing this week before the season started again, Nico was at school for the day and the sitter was taking care of Nikita for the few hours that you would be out of the house. When you showed up at the restaurant, you saw Raymond talking to someone who was sitting across from him.

As you got closer to the table you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. Raymond was sitting and talking with Max’s father. Who you had never formally met, or talked to at all. But you knew it was him, from the photos online to see the outline of the same man in your driveway 7 months ago. What was Raymond thinking inviting you to lunch with them?

You timidly walked up to the table before hearing Raymond speak, “Y/N,” He said with a slight nod.

“Hey Raymond,” You greeted him, letting your eyes sweep past Jos.

You didn’t want to look at him, mostly because of the stories that you had heard from Max and Victoria. Jos was a good grandfather to Victoria’s boys, but every time she brought it up with Max you could tell that he was getting angry about it. You always had to keep the peace between them when those conversations started.

Jos stood up from his chair reaching his hand out to take yours. You glanced at it and then at him. He was only slightly shorter than Max. Bigger in build from the fact that he wasn’t on an athletic diet like Max, who had to keep his weight down so he would be in top shape for when the season started in a few short weeks.

You didn’t want to shake his hand but did anyway. There had to be a reason as to why you were here. You just hoped it wasn’t to make a deal with the man who Max grew to despise as he grew up.

He gave you a half smile, and although it didn’t seem malicious you couldn’t help but slightly question it.

“Jos.” Max’s father said.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I know, my son’s wife.” He made a vague gesture towards you. “Where are my lovely grandsons, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You flinched internally at the word lovely. You loved the way Max said that word when he was complimenting you, or commenting on something that was going on. Hearing Max’s father say the same word and what followed after, made knots in your stomach start to form.

“I actually do.” You played with your wedding and engagement ring as you looked at him, not bothering to answer his question.

The more you looked at him, the more you could pick up the little parts of Max’s features that he got from Jos. His nose, his eyes, even though Max’s were a darker shade of blue. Max had a mix of Jos and Sophie’s hair. Luckily Max had gotten the majority of Sophie’s features.

“I was right, wasn’t I Ray?” Jos turned to Raymond. You could see his smile turn up a little more. “Max chose well.”

You had heard from Christian that Raymond and Jos were friends but never gave it much thought before now. You were sure that Max hadn’t told his father about the house, so Jos was keeping tabs on Max through Raymond.

“Is there a reason as to why I’m here?” If there wasn’t then you would like to go about the rest of your day. You still needed to get groceries before going and picking Nico up from school.

“I wanted to meet you,” Jos said before reaching for the glass that was in front of him. “Meet the woman who is going to help mold my grandson’s future in Formula 1.”

“You don’t know that, you have no idea if my son is going to keep karting.” You crossed your legs, your eyes traveling over Jos’ face trying to read into what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re son?” Jos mocked placing his glass back down onto the table.

“Yes.” You fired back. You didn’t need to hear this from him. Jos hadn’t been in Max’s life for a long time, and he had never even known Nico.

You watched as Jos’ shoulders went lax, sitting further back in his chair. His eyes studied you for a moment before he nodded.

“I’m surprised,” He crossed his arms.

“By?” You asked quizzically.

“My son finding someone… who can handle everything.” You wanted to question Jos. What did he mean by that? Everything? Did he mean Max’s career, his schedule, him being away all the time? Him having to raise a child by himself essentially for the first few years of Nico’s life?

You shook your head, “I don’t understand what you mean by everything. It’s not like my life is all that different. I’m married and I have 2 children. What’s so different about-?”

“I meant,” He said, cutting you off. “That you can love my grandson as if he’s your own.”

Your eyes hardened. Of course, you loved Nico as your own. How could you not? He was a sweet boy, who loved playing with his model cars, wanted to ride his bike around the driveway, and was always polite to those around him.

“There is no if, in that, it’s not as if he’s my own. That little boy is my son regardless of what you or other people might think.” You didn’t know Jos like Max did so you had no problem telling him how things were. “I can’t believe that you even though it would be right to make Max give Nico up. Max is an amazing father to our children.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you felt bad for him. He would never get to see what a great dad Max was to the boys. He would just have to hear about it from other people.

Jos moved forward in his chair almost as if he wanted to lunge at you. You didn’t flinch or move away.

“You think that you have a right to tell me this.” He said defensively.

“I have every right,” You calmly replied. You weren’t going to elaborate. You didn’t need to.

You made sure to meet his eyes and could see the recognition in them. He knew deep down that you were right. But he would never admit it publicly or try to talk to Max about it. He had too much pride for that. He had raised Max to achieve everything that he did and now got to revel in it when anyone asked who pushed Max to succeed. It was like Jos fed off it.

“If you want to keep tabs on Max through Raymond, that is none of my business, but please respect that my husband doesn’t want you near our children.” You moved out of your chair pushing it in. Jos had moved his hands onto the armrest of the chair as if he were going to get up. “My children’s career, be it racing or otherwise is none of your concern.”

You pushed up your hand to stop him from getting up from his chair. You didn’t want to be there. You should have just left when you saw that it was Jos here with Raymond.

You gave Jos one last look and you could see that whatever he was trying to accomplish by getting you here had failed. You collected your bag from the top of the table and walked away from them both.

You weren’t going to enjoy telling Max about this.

Five Days Later - Sunday

Wife of Formula 1 Driver, Max Verstappen, Y/N Verstappen seen abruptly leaving a restaurant just outside of Saint-Tropez

Anita Eriksson For DAILYMAIL.COM February 22, 2026

A few days ago one of our journalists was in Saint-Tropez and saw Y/N Verstappen, wife of 4 time World Champion Max Verstappen in a restaurant.

Verstappen's wife, Y/N was there for less than half an hour, and she was seen talking to who appeared to be Verstappen's father Jos, and his manager, Raymond Vermeulen. Over the years, people have started to notice that Jos Verstappen hasn't been present at F1 races and is never seen around the paddock anymore.

Rumors have spread that Verstappen banned his father, saying that he was too much of a distraction, making it hard for Max to compete. Verstappen's father was absent for all of Max's championship wins dating all the way back to his first in 2021. Just over a year after Verstappen's oldest son was born. Although, Jos being banned from the paddock has never been confirmed by Max or anyone from the Oracle Red Bull Racing Team.

From what the journalist saw, Y/N didn't seem all that happy to be sharing the same space with Jos. She sat down for a few minutes, didn't order anything, had what seemed to be a harsh conversation with him, and then collected her bag before getting into the navy blue Bentley Bentayga S 2026 that her husband bought her as a birthday present.

Jos Verstappen didn't look pleased after Y/N had left the table and was seen yelling at Vermeulen.

In December of last year, Y/N gave birth to Verstappen's second child, a boy named Nikita, named after racing legend Niki Lauda. Which they announced via. Y/N's Instagram. This is the first time that she has been seen out in public since the birth of her son.

One Day Later - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret

You had been in the kitchen making yourself something to eat after just having put Nikita down for his afternoon nap. Max had come storming into the room with his phone in hand, from the spare bedroom where his racing sim was set up.

"Did you have lunch with my father and Raymond while I was away last week?" 

You had stopped what you were doing and just looked at Max. You had never seen him so angry before. His expression was almost unreadable. You had only ever seen him look like this after something had gone wrong during a race.

You put down the knife that you were holding, "Yes." You started to say. You wouldn't really call the encounter that you had with Jos lunch, but to Max that would only be a minor detail. "Raymond called me and asked that I come meet him."

"You went, of course, without telling me." He stated, moving his hands a bit as he spoke.

You knew why Max was saying this. He didn't want Jos around you or Nico remembering how Max was after Jos had visited the house all those months ago. The following days after Max had been rather clingy with you and Nico, wanting to be around you as much as possible.

"I didn't know that Jos was going to be there." You hadn't but you should have assumed that it wouldn't just be a friendly lunch between you and Raymond either.

“You…” He started to say before he cut himself off. “You shouldn’t have gone. Not without me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Max.” You had always been able to handle things by yourself, that hadn’t changed. 

Max walked closer to you, leaving his phone face up on the counter. It was unlocked to show a Daily Mail article, with a photo of you from last week. It was you leaving the restaurant before you had gotten back into your car to go home.

Max didn't walk any closer to you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. You could see one of his hands slightly twitch as if he was going to reach out for you. He dropped his hand at his side and then ran it through his hair.

"Were the boys with you?" He asked. You watched as his eyes moved no doubt studying your face.

"No," You said with a sigh. You would never have taken the boys with you to meet Raymond alone. Maybe that's why you were so insistent that Sylvie stayed at the house with Nikita. Your instincts told you that it was better not to take Nikita with you. "Nico was at school and I left Nikita with Sylvie so I could go see Raymond," And your father, you thought. "And then went and got groceries before I went to pick up Nico once he got out of school for the day."

You knew better than to take Nico shopping with you, he would always put things in the shopping cart that you didn't need.

Max nodded but didn't say anything else to you. He walked out of the room, leaving his phone, not looking at you at all.

You picked it up and read through the article. There would no doubt be comments on Twitter about you with the hashtag #lionessverstappen. You had grown used to the moniker but never thought that your being protective over Max and the boys would lead to this type of reaction from Max.

You had never had to explain to Max why you did things throughout the entire time that you had been together. There had always been a reason and Max had understood that. Why couldn’t he understand this?

You didn’t follow Max out of the room because you knew if you did it would lead to both of you yelling at each other. So you just stayed in the kitchen and kept cooking. You finished making yourself food and then started the prep for dinner.

As you stared at the plate of food that you had made, you couldn’t help but push it away from you. You didn’t want to eat anything. You knew that you should since you were still breastfeeding but you couldn’t manage it. So you forgo eating and pull out your laptop to answer some work emails.

You glanced out into the backyard to see Max pacing back and forth while talking on the house phone, his hair in complete disarray from running his hand through it so many times.

As you looked at him, you wanted to tell him why you had gone to talk to Raymond.

Max didn’t talk about Jos unless he had to. He was always a sore subject. You thought that going and talking to Raymond would give you more insight into Max’s relationship with Jos. But after you had met Jos yourself, you were quick to realize that you should have waited for Max to talk to you about this when he was ready, even if he never would be.

After having only spent half an hour with Jos. You understood that Jos cared more for himself and the way he looked in the eyes of the media and F1 history than actually being a good parent/grandparent when it came down to it, or when it had anything to do with Max. He wanted people to view him as the person who helped mold a champion. It just happened to be that that Champion was his own flesh and blood.

The sound of the crackle from the baby monitor pulled you out of your thoughts. You left your computer open, rushing to Nikita’s room. Not noticing that Max had watched you leave before he sat down on the couch outside with his hands in his hair. The house phone now lying on the coffee table after he finished talking with the Red Bull team publicist.

You and Max hadn’t talked to each other all evening. Both of you paid attention to Nico at dinner and as you kept looking over at Max, there were only a few fleeting moments when you could feel him look at you.

This was the first time since you and Max had gotten married that you didn’t feel happy. After just a year of marriage, you had your first fight. Better now than later.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” He said after turning off the faucet in the kitchen after dinner.

You had sent Nico up to his room to finish his homework assignment, and Sylvie had taken Nikita to his room after his 7 pm feeding.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me.”

“What do you want me to say, Max?” You asked in urnist. “I didn’t tell you that I saw your father. I didn’t want to tell you given what we ended up talking about.” Even if you wanted to justify it by saying that you only meant to talk to Raymond that wouldn’t help.

Max gave you a pensive look, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I know.” He muttered before you saw his lips quiver. “What did he say?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” he pleaded. You shook your head not wanting to tell him before sighing.

“Something about helping mold Nico for Formula 1.” With those words, it was like you momentarily saw the color drain from Max’s face.

“He’s an asshole, and my father… and he-”

Max cut himself off with a sob. You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, holding his cheeks, and searching his eyes. Seeing the tears start to form, the storm brewing in the blues of his eyes.

You wanted to tell Max what Jos had said to you but thought it would be better for Max to get his thoughts out first.

“Jos had always pushed me to be the best when it comes to racing, and I, of course, let him because I thought it would make him proud of me.” He paused for a second as if he was trying to think of the right way to say something. “The only good thing he ever did for me was show me what it truly takes to be a father and love your children unconditionally.” He took in a sharp breath.

Max had pulled your hands away from his face. It was as if he needed the space to be able to get those final few thoughts out.

“There were always strings attached when it came to Jos being proud of me. If I wasn’t doing well, then he wasn’t proud of me. I know now, from the boys, that if you truly love your children, you put their interests first, always.”

That was why Max had such a hard time when Nico started karting. It was what Nico wanted at the time, and what he was still passionate about even now, but Max didn’t want to make Nico feel like, if he wasn’t doing well he wouldn’t be proud of him.

“I don’t want to feel as if he defines me, because I know that I’m nothing like him. But I can’t help it at times.” You didn’t want to keep telling Max that he was nothing like Jos. Being like Jos would always be Max’s biggest fear, and the only way that he would be able to get over it was for him to work through it. He would need you for that reassurance until the boys were old enough to be able to tell Max themselves that he had done the best that he could for them.

“I wanted to keep you away from him, so you wouldn’t see the parts of me that I get from him.” Max continued to say. “I can’t lose you, not when I’m grateful for all of the things that you have done for me, and our family.”

“You won’t lose me, I won’t let you.” You promised him.

Max was quick to drop his head afterward. “We don’t fight.”

It was true, you and Max didn’t have arguments. You weren’t those types of people.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t disagree on things in the future.” You said.

Max had held his hands out to you facing his palms out, inviting you to touch him. Offering himself up to you.

You moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours. “It matters that we worked it out.” He moved closer before resting his forehead against yours. “That we always find a solution, together.”

“We will.”

“I’m sorry, for getting upset with you.” He said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I went to lunch with Raymond and that Jos was there as well. I should have told you right after it happened.”

“It’s okay Schat,” Out of all of Max’s pet names for you that was the one he used the least. “I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to.”

“What did you say to him?” He asked muttering the words into your hair. Max was looking past you a little lost in thought.

You let out a small sigh, “I told him to respect that you don’t want him around the boys, and that Nico’s career wasn’t any of his concern.”

With those words, it put the conversation to rest. Max met your eyes, and you could see his shoulders relax.

Max pressed his lips to your forehead, and then your cheek. You let him hold you for a moment, running your fingers over his back as you felt his shoulders relax further. You slotted your head against his shoulder.

As you stood there in each other's arms the baby monitor crackled awake with the sound of Nikita fussing. You pulled back from Max before he stopped you.

“I’ll get him.” Max reached up and cupped your cheek before leaving you in the kitchen to calm him. You ended up pushing in the kitchen chairs that weren’t tucked under the counter. 

“Come, Nikita, come to Papa.” You heard over the baby monitor as you moved to sit in the living room. You could hear Nikita lightly fussing but it ended rather quickly.

You moved onto the couch taking the cashmere blanket that was hanging off the edge and laying it over your legs before you saw Max come back into the room with Nikita lying against his shoulder.

You didn’t move from your sport, instead you stayed there watching Max interact with the baby, as he gave him all of his attention. Nico had come into the living room, shoving the papers from his homework into his bag. He ended up climbing onto the couch before crawling over to you sitting in your lap, and laying his head on your shoulder.

Nico had gotten extra clingy with you now that Nikita was around. He wanted to always have your attention when he could even if you were trying to change Nikita’s diaper or make sure that Nikita wasn’t being fussy. It had taken a bit of time but eventually, Nico started to understand that you were paying more attention to Nikita because he was a baby, not because Nico had been replaced.

Max eventually joined you and Nico on the couch with Nikita tucked into his arms. You spend a little longer in the living room with them until Nico's head grew heavy against your shoulder after he fell asleep. You switch with Max, him taking Nico and putting him to bed and you taking Nikita, putting him in the bassinet that was in the master bedroom.

Eventuality both you and Max make it to bed, he can't seem to let you go once you’re under the covers sharing a few kisses before your eyes are too heavy to stay open. He pulled you flush against him, your head over his chest, his hands finding any bare skin that he could feel without the fabric of one of his shirts getting in his way.

“I love you.” You mutter into his chest. You need him to know that through every argument and all the time spent away from one another, you still love him and will always be there for him.

“Ik houd ook van jou, mijn leeuwin.” You can tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he’s almost asleep but not quite there yet. You feel one of his hands move out from under the shirt that you’re wearing before he reaches to take your hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand and then interlocks your fingers together placing it on the vacant part of his chest.

Translation:

Ik houd ook van jou - I love you too

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13

[randombush3]

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her. 

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon. 

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh. 

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.” 

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it. 

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.” 

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.” 

“You love my accent.” 

You smile. It’s true. 

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night. 

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet. 

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.” 

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck. 

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it. 

And then she looks at her phone. 

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for. 

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen. 

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.” 

She drives. 

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces. 

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then. 

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone. 

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.” 

Her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.” 

She understands you entirely. 

She all but drags you to her car. 

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother. 

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist. 

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport. 

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised. 

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future. 

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that. 

And, oh. 

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else. 

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch. 

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence. 

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door. 

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap. 

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full. 

The room is full. 

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification. 

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.  

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees! 

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you. 

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.” 

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice. 

“Jo…” 

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that. 

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.” 

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.” 

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question. 

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?” 

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away. 

 “Alexia,” you plead. 

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration. 

… 

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to. 

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression. 

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.” 

“You are Alexia Putellas.” 

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet. 

“Your father would love her.” 

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.  

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?” 

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain. 

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.” 

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag. 

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.” 

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.” 

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them. 

…

“Dance with me!” 

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music. 

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all. 

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting. 

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you. 

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?” 

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.” 

They cut the cake. 

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet. 

But, she values your presence. 

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you. 

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English. 

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back. 

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers. 

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful. 

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity. 

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete. 

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards. 

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her. 

…

The tour ends. 

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last. 

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy. 

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes. 

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes. 

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning. 

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys. 

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.” 

“You’re not subtle.” 

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear. 

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone. 

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it. 

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response. 

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.” 

“England has a women’s team.” 

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?” 

“What?” 

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?” 

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.” 

“You’re not answering my question.” 

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.” 

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.” 

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days? 

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.” 

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.” 

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.” 

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.” 

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop. 

…

Things with Alexia are good. 

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you. 

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate. 

They will resonate. 

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree. 

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home. 

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night. 

Gio: Have you seen the new plan? 

Anya: What plan? 

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan. 

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other. 

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group. 

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.” 

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio. 

“It’s your solo.” 

“I don’t care.” 

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor. 

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing. 

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him. 

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night. 

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised. 

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them. 

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now. 

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation. 

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.” 

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!” 

“So what did she tell you?” 

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.” 

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial. 

You can only shake your head. 

You were not given a choice. 

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone. 

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team. 

It goes like this for months. 

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final). 

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either. 

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour. 

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care. 

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day. 

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.” 

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.” 

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.” 

She sighs. 

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have. 

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!” 

“No, that was last month.” 

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…” 

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along. 

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets. 

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you. 

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?” 

“I… I fired her.” 

“Who?” 

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!” 

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!” 

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win. 

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed. 

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss. 

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered. 

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?” 

“I hate watching football with you.” 

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams. 

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.” 

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now. 

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.” 

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.” 

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?” 

“Te lo dije. Nothing.” 

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight. 

“Are you proposing?” 

“Are you saying yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears. 

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind. 

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can. 

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed. 

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed. 

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée. 

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat. 

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun. 

Like, really fun. 

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses). 

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test. 

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt. 

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms. 

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them. 

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read. 

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.” 

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk. 

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?” 

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you. 

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.” 

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap. 

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?” 

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you. 

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now. 

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby? 

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued. 

“Is it mine?” 

“Yes, it’s yours.” 

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates. 

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute. 

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.” 

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.” 

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!” 

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.” 

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better. 

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to. 

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates. 

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them. 

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?” 

“You’re so nosy.” 

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.” 

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched. 

“Ale, tell me.” 

“No. You’re a gossip.” 

“I’m not a gossip.” 

“You so are.” 

“Am not.” 

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?” 

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding. 

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare. 

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.” 

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.” 

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates. 

“Yes! Just tell us.” 

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.  

Alexia clears her throat. 

“I’m sorry. How?!” 

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?” 

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.” 

“Because she’s…” 

“Exactly.” 

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia. 

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.” 

“A horse?” 

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women. 

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London. 

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head. 

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now. 

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks? 

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals. 

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break. 

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.” 

“There is another hour left.” 

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.” 

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.” 

“Don’t… rush,” you groan. 

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!” 

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.” 

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?” 

“One of those massive bars?” 

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!” 

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now. 

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.” 

“No.” 

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow. 

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?” 

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together. 

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything. 

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category. 

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you. 

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic. 

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far. 

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.” 

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way. 

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.” 

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players. 

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this. 

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords. 

“You can.” 

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan. 

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless. 

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.” 

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan. 

“She’s getting quite inventive.” 

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.” 

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.” 

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star. 

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi. 

2019 comes with change — a lot of it. 

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life. 

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms. 

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment. 

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask. 

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you. 

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.” 

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away. 

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.” 

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak. 

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?” 

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” 

She is going to fall apart without you. 

[writerracha]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ just a kiss — han jisung x female reader

↻ 3.7k :: friends to lovers :: cw. alcohol (not in the smut scene). semi-public making out. dry humping. some dirty talk. fingering. oral sex. mention of squirting. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex. aftercare.

↻ 18+ :: not proof read, pls be kind :: masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The music is not that loud, but combined with the sound of conversation and the video game on the television, the apartment is noisy.

It’s also warm from everyone that is packed there. Both of those things you are used to, because it’s always the same. Every month, your friends organize a party at their place, and you’re guaranteed to have a fun night full of drinking, playing games and talking. At this point, Jisung and Changbin’s parties have become legendary in your friend circle, and you never miss one. 

Tonight, though, you feel a little tired, and the alcohol isn’t sitting right in your stomach. You stop drinking early, focusing instead on playing a few rounds of a board game before you head towards the living room. You find Jisung there, who has been a little quiet, and waves at him. He waves back, so you join him. You fall back on the couch, letting your head rest against his shoulder. You look up at him with a smile, and he answers with one of his own. 

“You look bored, Ji,” you tell him. 

“I’m not bored,” he retorts, pouting slightly. “Just… I’m just…” 

You frown. “Is something on your mind?” 

He takes a deep breath, and you sit up to look at him better. He doesn’t look upset, perhaps just a little too calm, twirling the cup half-full of soda in his hand. Jisung is usually the life of the party, but you know he has to work early tomorrow morning and decided not to drink tonight. 

“It’s just…” He winces. “It’s stupid.” 

You shake your head. “I’m sure it’s not stupid. Come on, you can tell me.” 

You nudge his thigh a little, encouraging him with a smile. The both of you have been friends for months now - and you really like spending time with him. He’s talented, smart, the funniest you know. Jisung gives you a quick look. 

“Is it just me or is everyone getting laid these days?” he finally blurts out.

You blink in surprise, unable to suppress a small laugh. Jisung rubs the back of his neck at your reaction. 

“Told you it was stupid,” he mutters. 

“I’m sorry I laughed!” you reply. “It just surprised me. But…” You let out a long sigh. “You’re right, now that I think about it.” 

You look around the room. Case in point: Hyunjin is heavily making out with his latest girlfriend, and Jeongin has already disappeared with a hook-up. Changbin has a girlfriend, Felix too… You bite your lip. 

“I just realized it’s been a while since I even kissed someone, you know,” Jisung says. “I miss kissing. I like kissing.” 

You smile. “Kissing is fun, I agree.” 

You turn back to Jisung, who is sliding a hand through his messy blonde hair. He has let it grow a little the past few weeks, and you like the way it falls back on his forehead. He’s dressed casually, in just a black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, but he has this natural charm that lingers around him. You cross your legs next to him. 

“Maybe we can find someone for you to kiss tonight,” you tell him with a smile. 

Jisung glances at you. “I don’t think so.” 

“Why not? There’s plenty of people…” 

He shrugs. “There’s no one here I’m interested in.” 

You open your mouth, but then you close it again. Why do his words sting so much? You like Jisung, but not in this way… At least, you don’t think so. Frowning, you realize you haven’t answered anything, and your friend blushes a little. 

“I’m sorry, that was a little blunt, I didn’t mean -” 

“It’s fine, oh my god,” you chuckle. “We can find someone. I have friends that are not here tonight… I don’t think you know them, so maybe I can find a match, if you want?” 

You’re smiling at him. Jisung looks back at you, his lips parted, his smooth cheeks still a little pink. After a few seconds, he nods, although he looks nervous. 

“Yeah. Okay, why not.” 

You grin, pull out your phone from your pockets and scoot closer to Jisung. “Let’s see who we have.”

Jisung slides his arm behind you so the both of you are more comfortable looking at your phone. You scroll through your contacts, pulling up Instagram profiles to show your friends to him. Jisung provides some commentary, helping you find the perfect match. As the minutes go by, it gets more and more difficult to focus - you realize that Jisung smells really good. His body is warm next to yours. His breath tickles your skin when he laughs, and his eyes shine in the dark. You haven’t been drinking that much - but you’re a little tipsy, and you end up leaning against him, perhaps a bit too much. 

“Hmm, I don’t know… She says she’s really into the outdoors, I’m not,” Jisung chuckles as he checks a profile you show him. 

“True,” you laugh. “You’re a homebody like me.” 

“I really like her style, though. Combat boots are hot.” 

You stop for a second, unable to help from glancing at your own shoes. At the combat boots you are wearing right now, and that you wear almost everyday. You decide not to comment on it, but Jisung is strangely silent next to yours. Swallowing, you open another profile. 

“W-what about her?” 

“I like her glasses. What is she like?” 

This time you definitely blush, and you are glad for the darkness in the room. Pushing your glasses higher on your nose, you tell Jisung about your friend, trying to ignore the erratic heartbeat in your chest. Why are you freaking out? Jisung clearly said he was not interested in anyone in this room… And you’ve never felt anything but friendship for him. Of course, you’re not blind, Jisung is handsome, and always kind to you. 

An hour later, you two have settled on your friend Lola - she’s a music major like you and Jisung thinks she’s cute. It’s enough to justify a date, and you know her well enough to be comfortable to ask if it’s all right to give Jisung her number. 

You try really hard not to stare at Jisung’s mouth, and not to let the words slip through your lips. You can kiss me if you want. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

But then again, why wouldn’t you? 

Later that night, after you’ve had a few drinks to try and get Jisung out of your thoughts, you go to the bathroom. You’re tipsier, maybe a little drunk. You walk in front of Jisung’s bedroom, whose door is open. It seems like he’s just getting a charger from a drawer. You don’t think - you just enter the bedroom and approach him. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, noticing you, holding the cable in one hand. “Chan needs a charger, I just…” 

“Jisung,” you tell him, putting your arms on his shoulders. 

He blinks at you, chuckling a little nervously. “What’s up, Y/N?” 

“You can kiss me if you want.”

“W-what?” he sputters.

You pout. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Consider it practice. For your date with Lola.” 

Jisung gulps, looking at you, trying not to let his eyes linger in yours for too long. You’re looking so pretty, with your glasses slipping down your nose. Jisung has been trying not to think about kissing you all night - and now you’re just offering it to him. You’ve been drinking, but you’re not completely drunk. You just got liquid courage. Jisung is painfully sober. 

You smile softly. “I won’t be hurt if you say no, if that’s -” 

“Okay.” 

Your heart skips a beat as Jisung smiles shyly at you. He takes a step closer to you, his hands landing on your hips, the charger forgotten in his fingers. 

“Just a kiss,” he whispers, leaning in. 

Your lips meet his halfway. The kiss is delicate and timid at first, but as you fall into the embrace, Jisung kisses you with more confidence. His lips are soft, taste like the soda he’s been sipping all night. You can’t help but wrap yourself around him, because he kisses you so well you’re getting dizzy.

Jisung breathes out in your mouth and you feel your body shiver. You want his hands all over your body. You want his lips to keep pushing yours, to go down your neck, your collarbone… 

You both lean back at the same time, staring at each other with wide eyes. 

This was a little too good. 

Your mouth feels dry, and Jisung’s hands are still on your hips. His lips look intoxicating, all red and wet from yours. 

After a few seconds you let out a nervous chuckle. “That didn’t feel like you haven’t kissed anyone in a while.” 

Jisung laughs, taking a step back, removing his hands from your body. He slides a hand through his hair. You wish it was yours instead. “Really?” 

“You’re good, Ji,” you assure him with a sincere smile. “Lola is a lucky girl.” 

“R-right.” 

You bite your lip, wondering if you’ve just made a horrible mistake. But even if it is, you can’t regret it. 

“I-I should head back,” you say.

“Yeah, me too, Chan is waiting for his charger…” 

You nod, and Jisung lets out a laugh. You don’t know why, but that relaxes you. You shake your head, sharing an amused glance with him, and you both head back to the party. 

Just a kiss between friends.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The next day, late in the evening, you find Jisung in a corner of the library, bent over his computer, clearly deeply focused on what he is doing. Still, when you sit down next to him, he removes his headphones. You had texted him a few minutes before, telling him you had news.

“Hey, what’s up?” he whispers. 

“I spoke with Lola.” You keep your voice low. There’s not that many people around in this part of the library, but there’s still a few students studying around. 

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.” 

You give him a triumphant smile. “She said she’s interested! I have her number, you can just text her, and…” 

You stop as you watch Jisung’s face. He does not look happy - in fact, he’s looking down at his hands, biting his lip, like there’s something he’s not telling you. You frown.

“What’s wrong?” 

He clears his throat, looking uncertain. 

“It’s okay if you changed your mind -” 

“Y/N…” 

Something about the way he calls your name freezes you into place. You look at him as his eyes meet yours, your breath suddenly unsteady. 

The truth is you haven’t stopped thinking about kissing Jisung since last night’s party. Your eyes keep wandering on his mouth, his plump lips. He smells good. His arms look like they could hold you tight…

“I’ve been thinking about all day, and… I don’t want to go on a date with Lola,” he breathes, his eyes still in yours. They shine so bright and deep. You feel dizzy. “I…” 

You so desperately want the words to escape his lips. Has he been thinking about the same thing as you? 

“About last night…” 

You look down at your hands. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about it. It was just a kiss. Like I said, it didn’t mean anything.” 

You glance at Jisung, who is frowning. When your eyes meet, he just nods. “Right. Of course. Sorry.” 

There’s a sinking feeling in your chest. You need some air - so you give a quick smile to your friend. “I need to go. I’ll see you later.” 

You stand up and walk away, crossing through bookshelves, the eerie quiet of the library oppressing your mind. You can’t regret kissing Jisung. But you should have waited, maybe. For a better time, a better place. Now you are scared to lose your friend.

“Y/N, wait.” 

You feel a hand around your wrist, and you spin around to find Jisung. He has visibly thrown all of his things in his messenger bag, looking distressed. You frown.

“What is -” 

“I don’t want to go on a date with Lola because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes. “Ever since last night, and even before…”

You don’t know what to say. Your heart is beating so fast in your chest you feel it’s going to explode. Jisung slips his hand from your wrist to take your fingers between his. He steps closer to you, and you look up at him in wonder. 

“Please, Y/N… If you want to, can I kiss you again?” 

The answer is simple - you nod. Jisung drops his bag on the ground and immediately pushes his lips to yours in an intense and deep kiss. A soft moan escapes you, and he gently pushes you against the bookshelves. You are trapped against his body, your hands sprawled on his chest as he kisses you feverishly. His lips toy with yours, his hands cupping your face. 

“Ji…” you breathe, “don’t stop kissing me.” 

“I won’t,” he answers, placing small kisses on your lower lip. “I can’t.” 

You open your mouth wider for him, and he slides his tongue, pushing it against yours. You arch your back, the feeling sending warmth throughout your body. Jisung does not waver, still playing with your tongue, but you feel his hips gently push against yours. 

It’s so silent in the library, all you hear is the wet sounds of your mouths and Jisung’s heavy breathing. 

“Fuck…” he groans. “You’re gonna get me hard.” 

The words make you instantly dizzy, and you can’t deny your own arousal. Jisung’s kisses and tongue is making you wet. 

“Can we go back to your place?” you ask softly. 

He nods, taking a step back. Your lips are raw from kissing, your cheeks red from your excitement. Jisung smiles at seeing you this way - you look so attractive, he can hardly contain himself. He takes his bag from the ground, slides his hand in yours, and guides you to the exit of the library.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

You do not even know if the apartment is empty - but honestly, you do not care. Jisung pulls you into his room, closing and locking the door behind him, and you can hardly breathe. You just want him to touch you, to kiss you again. 

When his lips find yours again, you don’t hesitate to moan at his touch, grasping his t-shirt to bring him closer to you. He wraps his arms around you, his fingers digging in the skin of your hips, breathing hard. 

“C’m’here,” he breathes, and spins you around so he can guide you to his bed. 

Soon he’s laying on top of you, carefully removing your glasses to set them down on the bedside table. Your fingers are in his honey colored hair, and his lips leave a trail of kisses on your jaw and down your neck. His tongue laps at your sensitive skin, making your body jolt at the same time. You’re drenched, aching for more of him, and it’s reciprocal - you feel his erection against you. 

He removes your shirt, palming one of your tits through your lace bra, pressing the back of his thumb on your nipple. It draws a sharp breath from your lips and Jisung smiles. 

“Is that sensitive?” 

You nod, and he pinches your nipple softly. You let out a moan. 

“You sound so beautiful, baby.” 

“Ji, you’re so hard,” you whisper to him, and you wrap your legs around his waist so that his erection is placed right against your cunt. Despite both of your jeans you can feel the pressure and it sends a shiver through your spine. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as you rolls your hips. “Fuck…” 

He starts to thrust his pelvis, rubbing himself over you, as if he was already fucking you. The friction makes you clench around nothing. Jisung dry humps you, his cock hard inside of his jeans, and your own walls soaked in your arousal. You’re desperate to get rid of the layers of clothing, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. 

“F-fuck, I want to fuck you so hard…” Jisung breathes in your ear, teasing your lobe with his teeth. 

You’re digging your nails in the skin of his back, so warm you feel like you’re on fire. “Ji, please, I want to feel you.” 

“Me too, baby, let me see that beautiful body of yours.” 

You both start to take off the rest of your clothing, stealing restless glances to each other. When you are both naked, Jisung takes a long look at you, and you do the same. He’s much more defined that you have thought, and you think about those hours he spends with Changbin at the gym. Kneeling on the bed straddling your legs, he stares at you, mouth parted, one of his hands jerking his erect cock mindlessly. You bite your lip, pressing your tits together to tease him, and Jisung smirks. 

“What a cute little tease,” he smiles. “I’m going to do much more than kiss you now.” 

“I hope so,” you tell him, grabbing his chin in between your fingers to pull him back to you. But instead of aiming for his lips, you turn his head and whisper in his ear. “You can do whatever you want to me.” 

Jisung grins, grabs your hand and pins it against the mattress. He leans in towards your ear now. “I hope you know what you’re asking for.” 

Before you can answer, he flips you on your stomach, and you gasp in surprise. He rubs your ass gently, pushing your thighs with his warm hands. 

“Arch that back for me, baby.” 

Jisung spreads your legs once you are in position, and you feel his breath against your aching cunt. You’re soaked, your swollen clit begging to be touched. You hear him hum in appreciation. 

“What a beauty,” he says. “All wet for me.” 

He slides a finger across your wetness, and you close your eyes to bask in the sensation. Jisung plays with you, his fingers tracing patterns, circling your clit. You breathe hard, shivering against his touch. He inserts a finger inside of you, and then two. 

“Taking me so well,” he growls. “I’m going to stretch your beautiful cunt. It belongs to me now…” 

“Jisung, please…” 

“What is it, baby?” 

“Make me cum, please, I’m begging you…” 

Jisung moves his fingers inside of you, curving them upwards, drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Like this, baby?” 

“F-fuck, yes…” 

He starts to finger you relentlessly, building your orgasm quickly - your breathing accelerates, your folds throbbing, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, Jisung pushes his tongue against your folds, licking you, drinking your in. The combination with his fingers is almost too much to handle, and you cum in a flash, your body shivering. 

“Yes, baby,” he moans. “Keep cumming, come on…” 

He doesn’t stop fingering and licking you, giving you a long, intense orgasm. You can feel your juices overflowing, drenching his fingers and his chin, and when your body relaxes, and he slows down, you’ve made a mess.

Jisung hums, and you hear him lick his fingers clean. “Next time I’m going to make you squirt,” he tells you. “I know I can do it. And I’ll lick you clean, baby.” 

You shudder, but you sit up, twisting your body so you can steal a kiss from him. His lips taste like you, his cock pushing against your ass, and you lower a hand to palm him. 

“Are you going to put that big cock inside of me, huh?” you tease him, jerking him. “I want him so much.” 

“My baby, so desperate for me,” he growls, and he takes your arms, pinning them on your back and pushing you back on the bed. “Don’t move.” 

You obey him as he takes a condom from his bedside table, wraps it around his cock, and then places it against your entrance. 

“Why did we never fuck before?” he suddenly asks, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you. “It’s like you’re made for me, baby.” 

You can barely think as he slowly enters you. “I don’t know, Ji. I can’t think…” You gasp as he suddenly bottoms out, filling you whole, stretching your walls. It doesn’t hurt, though. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, grabbing your wrists to hold them in place. He leans over you, pushing you more into the mattress, and starts to fuck you. 

The sound of his hips smacking your ass, your wet cunt sucking him in, your moans and his heavy breathing fill the bedroom. If someone is in the apartment there is no doubt as to what you are doing, but you don’t care. Jisung is making you lose your grasp on reality, and you can hardly believe that hours before you were stressing out over a kiss. This felt right. Your heart swells in your chest, because as he pounds into you, you feel like you’ve found your person. 

“You hear that? God, your cunt is soaking my dick. Fuck, that’s so hot.” 

“I’m going to cum, fuck, fuck fuck!” 

He accelerates his thrusts and pushes you into the mattress so he can go deeper, and you cum for a second time, your legs shaking as you do, and Jisung lets out a guttural grunt. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna -” 

“Cum for me, Ji, please…”

He slams into you as his cock twitches, and he removes himself just in time to take off the condom. You feel spurts of white on your ass and back, Jisung covering you as he breathes hard and fast. You’re still coming down from your own orgasm, drunk on the scent, sound, and feel of him. 

“Don’t move,” he says after a few seconds. 

You feel him clean your skin with a t-shirt, and he guides you back on the mattress. You lay down, your legs and cunt sore, and take a look at Jisung through half-closed eyes. His hair is a mess, his eyes glassy from the orgasm, and he looks more attractive than you’ve ever seen him. 

You whimper, grabbing his arm. “Kiss,” you plead. 

He chuckles as you press your lips to his. He kisses you tenderly, stroking your hair, snuggling next to you. Slowly, he draws the covers of the bed from under you to cover your bodies, keeping you close. You stay in his arms, sleepy but peaceful, your smile unable to go away. 

Jisung places a kiss on your shoulder. “Sleep a little, baby, yeah?” he whispers in your ear. “Then I’ll wake you up for another round.” 

You just nod.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

thank you for reading ♡ if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment in the tags or in the replies, or even writing me a message!!

[minarisplaything]

On the Dance Floor ft. NaMo

pairing: Nayeon x Male Reader x Momo rating: T to M-ish range wc: 1.5k warnings: infidelity prompt:

A night out with your girlfriend's "sister" and her friend takes an unexpected turn.

There were certain lines you didn't cross in life. Lines that, even if not legally wrong, were morally pretty fucking bad. And you were sure that sleeping with your girlfriend's older sister was one of them.

In your defense, you hadn't exactly planned on it happening. It was more the culmination of a series of events that had ultimately led you to this point. To crossing the one line you should have never crossed.

It started with your girlfriend Hwang Yeji going out on a world tour with her idol group. From the time it was announced you knew it would mean a lot of time apart from each other. In fact, because of the nature her job you hadn’t even been able to see her off at the airport. Initially you hadn’t thought anything of it. After all, there was facetime and other long-distance ways to stay in contact during the months that she would be gone. However, you soon realized that her absence would be much harder on you then you realized. It also didn’t help that you were operating in completely different timezones.

It was in this downtrodden state that you received a message from Nayeon. An invitation to join her and Momo for a night at the club. It was an invitation that she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Oh come onnn, you’ve been moody and couped up inside ever since Yeji left,” Nayeon had whined over the phone.

“Hey, hey, I have not been moody. Plus, I go out still. I go to work, don’t I?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes in response to my answer. Something that I could usually hear in her voice but since we were video calling, I could see the expression for myself. Funny enough, it was through Nayeon and Momo that you had been able to meet Yeji. It had been something of a friend of a friend situation. And while you referred to them as Yeji’s older sisters they weren’t actually. It was just a clever way of referring to them as being in the same company as your girlfriend but having worked there longer.

“That’s not healthy,” Nayeon replied before adding, “Plus you’re going to make Momo sad. I already told her you were coming.”

“Why did you do that?!”

Nayeon merely giggled and shrugged in that mischievous way she did. “So, are you coming then?”

You weighed your options for a moment before finally sighing in defeat, “Alright, alright. I’ll come out with you guys.” You really did need a night out to socialize and unwind after all. If nothing else to take your mind off your longing. Besides, a drink or two wouldn’t hurt.

At least that was what you had thought.

As it would turn out one or two quickly became a few. And a few quickly became lost track of. It seemed you had underestimated just how moody – as Nayeon had put it – you had been lately and how much you desperately needed a night out. It helped that Nayeon and Momo were some of the best company you could go out with; together they were like an unstoppable duo that guaranteed a good time no matter what you were doing. In hindsight, though, it was a recipe for disaster.

“I don’t know how she dances like that,” you commented over the music. More to yourself than to the strawberry blonde sitting across from you.

Your eyes were currently locked on Momo as she danced to the music, seemingly in a zone all her own. Make no mistake about it, your girlfriend was also an extremely talented dancer. But something about the way Momo moved was just more mature, even sensual when she rocked her hips a certain way. It was mesmerizing. Well, that and you had reached the sort of mellowed out stage of night in your drinking. What you didn’t notice was that Nayeon had taken note and was already making plans of her own.

“Dance with me!” her voice snapped you from your trance.

Before you could even begin to protest her hand had grabbed yours and was dragging you to the dance floor, stumbling behind her but managing to hold your balance and not embarrass yourself.

“You know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the video!”

You could feel your face growing red at that answer. Knowing that the video of you dancing was out there on someone’s phone and was making the rounds – actually it was better not to think about it. Fortunately, as bad as that video was tonight you had Nayeon’s lead to follow. And while Momo was a dancing goddess, Nayeon was no slouch either.

What started as simply vibing with the music, slowly begin to escalate into something more intimate. A body roll here, taking your hand and placing on her hips there. What finally caused your blood pressure to rise was when her arms looped around your neck and she leaned in. So close that you could feel her hot breath against the skin neck. Was this still dancing?

“Nayeon…”

“Are you guys having all the fun without me?”

Momo’s voice at the shell of your ear caused you to snap out of it. However, while you didn’t know it yet, she wasn’t the savior you thought she was.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Nayeon replied, pulling back slightly.

At first you were grateful, you didn’t trust your ability to talk without fumbling your words. Had you been of sound mind you might've questioned what exactly having fun without her and Nayeon’s response implied. But truth be told, none of you were exactly acting responsibly.

You soon felt Momo press up against you from behind while Nayeon turned herself around, her back pressed into your chest. Nayeon’s arms reached back, her hands finding Momo’s body. Similarly, Momo’s hands moved around you, settling on Nayeon’s hips. You were effectively trapped and yet you couldn’t help but feel torn about whether that was a bad thing.

“Is this what it’s like to be the meat in a sandwich?”

You only realized that you had spoken your thoughts out loud when you heard laughter fall from the girl’s lips. A flush of embarrassment colored your checks, doing your best to look anywhere but at them.

“Is that your fantasy?” Nayeon teased.

In that moment she arched her back, pressing her ass right into your groin. To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop a moan from leaving your lips when she did. You didn’t want to admit it but between the close proximity, the alcohol, and the three of you dancing; you were undoubtedly horny.

“I think it’s more of a dream,” Momo piled on, her hands still gripping Nayeon’s waist.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” you insisted.

“Hmm, is that you’re final answer?” Nayeon asked, a teasing lint in her tone. “Are you sure you haven’t thought about it?”

As Nayeon dragged out her words she rotated her ass deliberately slow, practically torturous, against your crotch. You managed to bite down on your lip this time, subduing the pleasured moan to just a strong hum that was masked by the sound of the music. [Nayeon turns around and wraps arms around neck]

“You know I don’t think it’s fair that Yeji gets to keep you all to herself,” Nayeon pouted. “Siblings are supposed to share, right?”

You should have said something, disagreeing preferably, but instead your mind was just focused on the feeling of Momo’s hands running over your chest and Nayeon’s eyes staring at you. You had never noticed it before, but she had a piercing gaze. One that had seemed so innocent before, but now you weren’t so sure.

While you froze up, Nayeon took advantage of the silence; pushing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to your lips. At first you were stunned but soon you began to respond. It crossed your inebriated mind that Nayeon’s lips were softer than you had imagined. You felt Momo’s hands softly stroking your back but other than that your surroundings had become a blur. The music of the club became nothing but a distant thumping as Nayeon cupped your face and deepened the kiss.

Her tongue slipped inside your mouth, dancing with your own tentative at first before delving deeper. There should have been some part of you screaming at how wrong this was. Even stopped you from making a mistake you might regret. Instead, your hands were finding their way around her waist; finally caving to the temptation.

When Nayeon pulled back her cheeks were a rosy color, looking at you with a lustful gaze. You were sure you looked equally disheveled and lost at that moment, but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it. Momo’s hands briefly ran down your chest before Nayeon took your hand in hers.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, holding your gaze before she began to pull you towards the exit.

You didn’t fully know what awaited you for the rest of the night, but you knew you weren’t turning back now.

A/N: Not sure why I never got around to porting my Twice x Male Reader series over here. Probably laziness. Anyway I need some Nayeon and Momo content on my blog so here it is. It was short but hope you enjoyed! Also available on AO3 if you don't want to wait for me to post here. This was originally meant to contain a longer threesome scene at the time of posting but I got writers block. Re-reading it now and after Misamo I might have to re-visit it and give a part two...

[bloatedandalone04]

The Only Reason

➪the one where leon finally gives you some much needed closure after four months of feeling nothing but regret from what he did.

Warnings: angst, fluff, making out, swearing, mentions of cheating, cheating, toxic relationships, mentions of a bad past, mentions of weight loss, all the ada slander in the world because i actually cannot stand her, mentions of unwanted sexual attention (from ada to leon), unwanted intimacy (from ada to leon), eating disorders (implied)

Word Count: 5.2k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The loud music and thumping of the walls were the last thing on Leon’s mind as he scanned every single room of the house. Chris decided to throw a housewarming party for Claire at her new place, and of course Leon was invited. 

Leon refused the initial invitation, but quickly changed his mind when Chris told him that you would be there. It seemed as though the brunet had long since grown sick of his friend’s moping and knew he had to do something about it. 

Pretty much everyone that Leon knew was here, yet he couldn’t seem to find you. The house wasn’t big, and it didn’t have very many rooms, but it seemed like it was still impossible to locate you. Not that he even had a right to. 

If he does manage to find you, what would he even say? “I’m sorry for everything, and for letting you leave without trying to fight for you. Also, I don’t blame you for ignoring my calls and not texting me back, I deserve that.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he sounded that desperate. Back when he was a dumb twenty one year old, he supposed. 

Leon has been here for over an hour now, and he still hasn’t seen you once. He was beginning to think that Chris lied to him just to get him out of the house he used to share with you. While he wouldn’t put it past him, Leon wanted to give Chris the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had good intentions when he invited him to this thing. 

Nearly giving up on his search, Leon heads back to the kitchen, where Jill hands him a bottle of beer. She leans against the counter and he does the same, his eyes still expertly scanning the room, just in case.  “Hey, Kennedy,” she greets as she sips on her own beer. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy with work?”

Leon shrugs, his face almost emotionless. “Yeah,” he lied. Of course he had been going to work and successfully completing missions, but he hadn’t left the house outside of that. Work usually took up a good portion of his time, and the rest of it was spent thinking about how badly he fucked things up with you. 

It wasn’t even worth it. Ada. 

He hadn’t seen her since he broke off their little agreement a month before he confessed to you, despite her texting him and asking to meet up so he can fuck her in exchange for information he thought was worth more than you. 

It really wasn’t. 

He’s been ignoring her texts for months now, just like how you’ve been ignoring his. 

Leon had never blocked someone’s number ever in his life, but Ada was about to be the first if she didn’t take the hint and leave him the fuck alone. 

As much as he wanted to put all the blame on her, he knew it was half his own fault, as well. He couldn’t believe he had gone back to Ada Wong when he had you, his entire world, waiting for him at home. 

He knew he would never forgive himself, even if you somehow managed to move on and forgive him for the worst mistake he had ever made in his twenty nine years of living. 

Four months. 

It’s been four months and he was still beating himself up for what he did to you. 

“Yeah, Chris and I are looking into this new virus that is spreading down in Oxford. The cases have been going up daily, might be something you can help out with,” she offered, leaning closer to him so he could hear her better over the loud music. “You’re more experienced with viruses than anyone else I know.”

Leon gave her a tight lipped smile. “Sure, Jill,” he replied. “Whatever you need.”

“Great,” she says as she finishes off her beer. “You staying long? I never took you as the party type.”

He really wasn’t. He hadn’t been to a party since he was nineteen. Even the frat parties he was invited to were boring, so he never had the urge to go to anymore after the age of twenty. Until now, because he was told that you would be here. 

And he wanted to see you so badly. 

“I’m not, really,” he agreed and brought the bottle up to his mouth. “I just thought someone I know would be here-”

He wasn’t able to take a sip of the alcohol before his eyes landed on you as soon as you entered the room. 

All words had died on his tongue and the bottle was raised half way before his hand froze. 

You looked beautiful. Your cute white dress fit you well and showed off the concerning amount of weight you had lost. He hadn’t seen you that small since the beginning of your relationship, back when you didn’t know how to take care of yourself and listen to your body’s warnings. 

Leon felt his heart constrict at the thought of you going back to your old ways of ignoring the signs your body tried giving you. You were barely getting by when he met you, and you hadn’t gone completely back to that since leaving him, if your makeup and pretty hair were anything to go by. 

You hadn’t given up on yourself entirely, and that gave him enough hope that you would be okay. Even if he was given the chance to talk to you and explain things, he knew you weren’t completely broken like you were when you first started dating, and that you would be fine if you decided to never forgive him. 

Looking as shy as ever, you inch further into the room, seeming to have not noticed Leon yet as you ventured over to the bottles of booze that had been set out on the counter. “Oh, shit, is that Y/n?” Jill asked as she squinted in your direction. “I didn’t know she was coming, but that pretty much explains why you’re here. Are you okay?” 

Leon watched as you browsed through the drink options, dropping his arm back to his side and not caring about the beer that splashed onto his hand at the quick movement. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he slowly shook his head, a quiet “No,” leaving his mouth afterwards. 

Jill looked between the two of you, unsure of what to say. “Do you want to move to another room?”

Leon shook his head again. “No. You said it yourself, Jill. This is why I’m here,” he muttered and watched as a younger guy moved to stand next to you. He helped you pour a large amount of vodka mixed with ginger ale into a cup, and he quickly recognized the guy as one of the new agents Claire had befriended named Kegan. 

Kegan stepped closer to you and Leon could instantly tell that you were uncomfortable. He knew you like the back of his hand and could tell when you got nervous or anxious, like how you are right now. 

Leon stood up straight and placed the untouched bottle of beer behind him on the counter before making his way across the kitchen. 

Within four strides he is behind you and towering over Kegan, who noticed Leon long before you did. “Kennedy? Leon Kennedy is actually at a party? Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” 

Leon glared at him and it was then when you realized who was standing behind you. “You don’t know me,” Leon stated as you turned to face him, but he just kept his eyes on Kegan. Leon had quite the reputation at work, and he was well known as the guy who is more than capable of completing any mission, no matter how tough it may be. 

That being said, his superiority often annoyed the new guys as they tried to live up to the high expectations and standards of Leon Kennedy. 

“And you don’t know her, but I do, and I know she wants you to leave her alone but is far too nice to actually say that to you, so I’ll do it for her,” Leon continued and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet gasp that left your lips. 

Kegan looked between you and Leon, and more specifically the protective look in his eyes, before backing away with his hands up. “My bad, man,” he shrugged. “Didn’t realize she was with you.”

He disappeared in the crowd as you turned completely to face your ex. “You didn’t need to do that,” you muttered and Leon could feel his face heat up at the fact that you were actually talking to him. You wore an annoyed look, but still, you’re talking to him. “I could’ve done that myself.”

Leon forced a grin to form on his lips. “But I bet you’re glad I did it, instead,” when you just shook your head and began to leave the kitchen, Leon stepped in front of you, refraining from grabbing your hand like he so desperately wanted to. “Wait, please.”

“What, Leon?” You asked and you sounded so exhausted, it made his heart physically break a bit. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now?”

“Everything,” he answered instantly. “I want to say everything I didn’t say the day you left. Please, give me a chance.”

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. “It’s been months, Leon,” 

“Four,” he confirmed, watching the brief shock that flashed across your face. “And I’ve thought about you everyday for every one.”  

You give him a conflicted look that is quickly followed by a sigh. “There is nothing you can say that will fix what happened, just so you know,” 

Leon nodded and held his hand out to you, surprise filling him when you actually took it. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t your fault, and that it’s all on me,” he promised as he led you towards the front door, missing Chris’ look of relief as he passed him.

While he didn’t know the full story of what his friend did to you, he knew Ada had been involved in the reason you were no longer together. Chris was never a fan of Ada and how she treated Leon whenever the two crossed paths, and he was sure the blond felt the same way after being her little pet for years. He was sure the two of you would end up getting married, so he could not fathom how the fuck Leon had let Ada get in the way of what you and he had. 

All in all, he was sick of Leon’s bad moods, and wanted his friend to go back to normal. Well, as normal as Leon Kennedy could be. 

Leon led you out onto the front porch, and with one look from him, the two guys who were standing out there quickly scampered back into the house. Once you were alone, he turned back to face you with guilty eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say to you. 

He had wanted the chance to talk to you again for months, and now that you are actually here in front of him he was blanking. 

But he wouldn’t let his inability to form a proper sentence be what cost him his once chance at explaining to you why he did what he did.

An apology would be a good place to start, right?

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he finally allowed himself to look into your guarded eyes. You looked at him as if he were a stranger, and he supposed he kind of is now. The person you both thought he was would’ve never done what he did to you, no matter how important those fucking files were. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

You nod and lean back against the railing, crossing your arms as you stare at him with a soft glare. “I’m really glad we agree on that,”

He knew he deserved that. He deserved worse, actually, but you were simply too kind to completely go off on him, and he simply never deserved you in the first place. “That’s fair, you’re being hostile,” he mumbled and felt his skin begin to heat up under his dark leather jacket. “I know I have no right to even be talking to you right now, but I just need you to know that what I did with Ada was the worst thing I have ever done, and I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life. None of them cost me you, though, so they’re not very high on that list.” 

You tense up at the name you’ve hated since the second you heard it, and the mention of her sent your insecurities right back to the front of your mind. “Yeah, well,” you trail off, kicking a stone that was on the porch away from you as you avoid his stare. “I hope she was worth it, because I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the fact that Ada fucking Wong is the reason the best relationship I had ever been in ended.”

“She wasn’t worth it,” he said instantly, taking a cautious step towards you. “She was never worth it, even back when I was a stupid twenty one year old and trying to start my career. She never cared, and I wasn’t smart enough to see that. I’m not smart at all. If I had half a brain I would’ve never gone back to her ever again.” 

You shake your head. “You can say that now, but it doesn’t change anything,” you mumbled. “You cheated on me with the one person I’ve been worried about since day one. You promised me that she was in your past, and that you were over her. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that. Guess we’re both fucking dumb.”

“No,” he said sternly. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Ada hasn’t had control over my heart for a long time now, it’s always been you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met, and that was years ago. I know I fucked up, but I’ve never stopped believing that you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else, and that was clear after I met you.”

Your lip was quivering just slightly and you blinked back tears, trying to stick to your promise of never crying over the man in front of you ever again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep that promise if you were to continue to talk to him. “Then why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had?” You regretfully ask and quickly add, “And I want the truth, not some bullshit story you always seem to come up with. Be honest with me, Leon.”

Leon really felt pathetic at this point as he felt his heart jump a bit at the fact that you said his name. He missed you so much, he missed hearing your voice, and he missed the way his name sounded when it came out of your mouth. 

He knew his answer wouldn’t satisfy you at all, but he said it anyway, “It was just about work,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say angrily, wiping under your eyes before he could see your tears. “Don’t waste anymore of my time, Leon. I refuse to spend another second with you if you’re just going to lie to me. You’ve done that enough.”

Leon shut up after that, shifting from one foot to the other and beginning to feel anxious. He shouldn’t feel this way around you. He had known you for four years and been with you for three, he should feel comfortable around you, but he supposed he lost that right, too. 

At his lack of words, you turn away and are about to head back inside when he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the door. “Y/n, wait,” he begs, blue eyes clouding over with desperation as he stares hopelessly down at you. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There are no words that could ever describe it. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that I fucked up the best thing I had going for me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You fell silent as your eyes flickered from his lips then back to his eyes. 

What if….for just one more night…what if.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that day without explaining to you that it was all my fault, just like how I should’ve never let Ada come anywhere near me. But I’m weak,” he was saying all the words he should have said to you the day he confessed that he had been seeing Ada. God, even her name made a feeling of disgust creep into his bones. “I’ve always been weak when it comes to you and my job and everything. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, but you made me feel like I was. I can’t believe I took that for granted.” 

Your eyes burned once again and you moved to lean back against the railing when he inched closer.

“You’re everything to me, sweetheart,” he sounded so genuine, you almost thought you could believe him. He placed his hands on the railing behind you and leaned down so his face was close to yours. “You always will be. She is, by far, the biggest mistake of my life and I promise that I haven’t seen her since. I can’t stand even thinking about her-”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

Just one more night. 

You just needed one more night with him, one where you could pretend you were still happy and still in love. One where you were still oblivious to the affair he was having with his ex…or whatever the fuck they were. 

Just one more night to fuck him out of your system, then you’ll never have to see him again after this. 

Leon got lost in the feeling of having your lips on his for the first time in months. His hands immediately grip your waist and his body presses right up against your own. 

He missed you more than anything else in the entire world. Every single inch of you, he craved it everyday. He was so fucking angry with himself for how he destroyed your relationship and for how he hurt you after he swore he wouldn’t. After he swore he was different. 

Really, he wasn’t far off from the assholes you had given your heart to in the past, even though he tried so hard to be. 

His fingers bunch up the fabric of your dress and he wanted to take you right there, right against the railing of his friend’s new porch, but you deserved more than that. He wanted to give you more than that. 

Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair and he never thought he’d ever get to feel your soft yet firm touch again. He couldn’t help but melt into it. 

Your lower back pressed against the cool metal and the contrast of it had you gasping against his mouth. 

Leon groaned at your quiet sound of pleasure and couldn’t deny how it went straight to his dick. Sometimes he really hated being a man who had no control over that part of his body. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Missed everything about you, pretty girl.” 

You moan into his mouth and he swallows it like the greedy man he is. “Take me home, Leon,”

It was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled away but kept his hands on your hips. Now that he had gotten a taste of you again, he never wanted to let you go. But he needed to focus on why he sought you out tonight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off, noting the brief look of embarrassment that flashed in your eyes. “I don’t want you to think that this is all I wanted out of-”

“I want it, Leon,” you cut him off, pulling him closer by his jacket. “I want you. I know you don’t want me anymore, but-”

He shook his head and pressed another kiss to your lips, against his better judgment. “I do still want you, baby,” he promised. “I want you, always.”

You bite down on your lip and don’t miss the way his eyes flicker downwards when you do so. “Then take me home,” you pressed, watching as he seems to have an inner battle with himself. 

You weren’t sure what result you wanted out of this; him agreeing and getting you off one last time, or him rejecting you of what he so gladly took from Ada. 

 Either way would provide you with some closure, you’d hope. 

A few more seconds pass before he’s moving away and taking your hand. He leads you to his car and drives the familiar road to the house you lived in with him not too long ago. 

As he guided you through the very door you walked out of the day he told you what he did, he gave you a conflicted look as he said, “Just so you know, this isn’t all I want from you. I meant everything I said before,”

You give him a blank look as you move closer to him. “I don’t care,” 

Leon looked like he was in agony as you grabbed his jacket and pulled it from his body. “Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please.”

You don’t say anything else as you pull on his hands and walk backwards until your knees hit the edge of the couch. Sitting on the armrest, you run your fingers down his toned chest and try to remember that this will be a one time thing. He wasn’t yours and this wouldn’t be like all the other times you and he had been intimate. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest. “So please, don’t say anything else.”

Leon could only nod, regret filling him at what he knew he made run through your head. You thought this was all he wanted, when in reality he just wanted you back. 

He leaned down and gently grabbed either side of your face as he kissed you deeply, pushing you back against the very couch you broke up with him on four fucking months ago. 

It was too much, but he couldn’t stop. He was too afraid you’d leave him forever if he did. He really was fucking weak when it came to you. He was selfish. 

He wanted you back so badly, his brain couldn’t keep up with his body. His lips were placing kisses desperately to your mouth as he felt your legs wrap around his waist. 

Leon wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to function again if you were to never talk to him after this. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

But it seemed as if you were doing the opposite. 

He kissed along your neck for a few seconds before hearing a sharp intake from you that was followed by the push of your hands against his shoulders. “Wait,” you nearly gasp, sitting up when he instantly pulls away from you, proving to you that he is at least a little better than your past boyfriends. They would have ignored you and continued touching you until they got what they wanted. 

Leon stood back and put a bit of distance between the two of you, his eyes guilty and his heart on his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says and you just shake your head, straightening your dress back out. 

“No, I initiated this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” you apologize and stand up. “I should go. This was a mistake.” 

Leon felt his heart break as you quickly stood up and made your way to the door. He got flashbacks to the day you left him, and he knew he wasn’t prepared to see you walk out that door for the second time. 

Maybe he didn’t have to.  

You passed by the counter and abruptly stopped, your eyes fixated on something on the granite. Leon held his breath as he watched you move towards the island, your hand reaching out to grab his keys. “Leon,” you gasped quietly, your fingers gently moving something on the chain. He knew what was on it. The ring haunted him every time he used his keys, and that was the exact reason why he attached it to the chain in the first place. 

He stayed still when you turned to look back at him, his keys held tightly in your hand.

“You kept it?” You asked in a hoarse voice. You would recognize that ring anywhere, even after only seeing it one time. You couldn’t believe he kept it instead of selling it, and you were heartbroken to discover that he saw it every day whenever he entered or left his house. 

Your question offended him, but he’d never show it. “Of course I kept it,” and yet another flashback flickered in his head. 

You weren’t sure you wanted the answer, but you asked, anyway, “Why?”

Leon hardly moved as he answered, “As a reminder,” 

And it was the truth. 

And then you broke your promise as the first of many tears began to fall. 

You wished you never met him. Never said yes when he asked you out on a date, said no when he asked you to move in. You wished you didn’t agree to come to that stupid housewarming party, because now you felt lost all over again. 

Setting the keys loudly on the counter, you turn to face him fully. “Why?” You asked, your voice angry and shaky as you tried to keep your cool. “Why did you do it? I loved you more than anything else. You saved my life, Leon. Why didn’t that mean anything to you?”

Leon felt his own eyes burn as he stepped away from the couch but made no move to walk over to you. “It means the world to me, Y/n,” he promised, his heart begging his body to take you into his arms, but he held back. “So do you.”

Your lower lip trembled as you moved to stand in front of him. “Why?” You ask again, much quieter this time around. You reach up and push on his chest just slightly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t faze him one bit. And it didn’t. “Why did you go to her?”

Leon refrained from taking your hands that were still on his chest in his. “Because she had something I needed,” he regretfully answered. 

Your brows furrow and he knew he accidentally offended you with his poor choice of words. “What, I wasn’t good enough? Didn’t put out enough for you?”

“No,” he said immediately, going against his better judgment again and wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “You’re more than enough for me. You always have been and you will be forever. The thought of doing that with her made me sick and I hate myself for it, but it was the only way she would give me the information I needed for my job.”

Your eyes softened a bit but your whole body was still guarded. “Your job you can’t tell me anything about?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, his face twisting up in agony when more tears fell from your eyes. “That’s the only reason I went to her. She had something I needed, but if I ever had to do it all over again, I’d tell her to fuck off and I’d get it some other way. I can’t stand the fact that I hurt you like that.”

You tried to process his words, but you didn’t know what to think anymore. 

You believed him, and it was clear he felt awful about all that came out of his encounters with Ada. But you also weren’t sure what he wanted out of this encounter with you. Yeah, it appeared he wanted to fix things, but who’s to say he won’t shatter your heart again? 

You couldn’t take much more. You knew that. 

“It was just for work?” You asked quietly, avoiding his eyes as he pressed your hand flat against his chest. “You’re not in love with her?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head to further get the point across. “No. I don’t love her, not anymore. Maybe I never did. She never made me feel the things you did and still do. My heart was never hers. It’s yours. Even after tonight, I’ll still be yours, even if you aren’t mine.”

Your eyes were begging for a break, but the tears kept coming. “My heart is yours, Leon. It’s yours to break,” you whisper. “And you did.”

He couldn’t stop himself from taking you into his arms. He wrapped you up and let out a sigh of relief when you let him, and even held onto his waist. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “So fucking sorry. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’d use my last breath for you, baby. You’re my entire world. You’re everything.”

“Leon,” you beg, bunching his shirt up in your fists. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t hurt me again, I-....I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, cradling the back of your head in his hand as if you were the most frail and fragile thing in the world. “I love you so much. It’s you who I want for the rest of my life. I never doubted that. I never want you to doubt that.”

You nod and press your head to his chest. “It’s going to take some time,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a lot of time-”

“I’ll wait forever for you,” he swore, leaning back and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was shaking now, disbelief filling his entire being at the fact that you were letting him hold you like this again. 

You look over at his keys before meeting his eyes again. “I won’t forget about what you did, Leon,” you murmur, watching the guilt seep back into his blue orbs. “But I’m willing to forgive….I just need time.”

Leon nodded, wrapping you back up in his arms. “I’ll give you all the time you need, I promise,” he rasps. “Just don’t leave me again.”

He had no right asking you that, but he also had no control over his words at this point. 

But you just pressed your lips to the side of his neck. “Don’t give me another reason to,”

[megxplryxb]

Dating Steve Harrington would include:

Because honestly, who wouldn't want to date Steve?

Knowing Steve since you were little kids and being best friends ever since

You being totally oblivious to the fact that Steve liked you because you were convinced he was still in love with Nancy

Steve crushing on you for months but being afraid to tell you because he was sure you didn’t feel the same way even though you’ve loved him since, forever

Dropping little hints that he was crazy about you but you never catching on, always thinking he was talking about some new girl he’d met while at work

Getting jealous when he’d talk to Nancy because you hated how she broke his heart

Robin and Dustin trying to help him tell you how he felt but Steve would chicken out every time “No, I can’t tell her! If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’ll ruin our friendship and I can’t lose her.”

Your love for each other being blatantly obvious to EVERYONE

Steve always protecting you before everyone else even though he knew you could handle yourself

Steve finally telling you that he loved you when he was drugged by the Russians but you laughed it off thinking he didn’t know what he was saying. “Stevie, you’re very high right now.”

Him pulling you aside to tell you again before the showdown with Vecna while everyone was preparing for battle. “I meant what I said y’know, back at the mall…when you thought I was too drugged to know what I was saying…I’ve wanted to tell you for so long and I need to tell you now in case we don’t make it out this time and you can’t blame it on drugs.” He spoke softly as you put a hand over his mouth, smiling at him with tears in your eyes. “We’re going to make it out and when all of this is over you can tell me, okay?” You whispered cupping his face as he nodded. “I do, though. I always have.” Steve swallowed as you tried to hold back the tears from falling down your cheeks. “I do too.” You confessed finally sharing your first proper kiss

Nursing him back to health after defeating Vecna and becoming an official couple “Can we live happily ever after now?” Steve asked lying in his bed beside you before making love to you for the first time

Steve constantly touching you now that you’re his, it’s his love language after all

Your parents not being a bit surprised about your relationship because they were sure you were together anyway. “Haven’t you always been with him?” Your Dad asked confused as to why you were telling him now.

Borrowing his sweaters and forgetting to give them back for weeks at a time but Steve doesn’t mind because they always come back smelling like you and he loves the way you smell

Practically living in Steve’s house with him while his parents are out of town because he hates being alone. It’s not something that used to bother him but now that he’s with you, he doesn’t ever want to be without you. “Missed you today, honey.” He’d whisper in your ear, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you let out a soft laugh. “Steve, it’s only been a few hours.” “Yeah, a few hours too long.” He’d reply before kissing you

Having the whole gang over for movie nights, pool parties and sleepovers so Steve’s house doesn’t always feel so empty and you want him to have good memories there too

Teaching him how to cook because you’re tired of him constantly buying take out and shitty microwave meals when you aren’t around. Steve thinks it’s stupid at first but when you reveal there’s nothing sexier than a man who can cook, he rips off his shirt and throws on his apron, ready to make a mess in the kitchen, in more ways than one – “I might need a few lessons on how to cook, baby, but I’m a pro at dessert.” Steve would flirt trying to pull you closer as you’d wave your finger at him. “Dessert comes after “baby”.”

Running your fingers through his hair after a long day at work when you’re both lying on his couch watching a movie. “mmm sweetheart, that feels so good, could stay like this forever.”

Leaving your hair ties around his gear shift to annoy him but Steve secretly loves that you leave them there, just reminding everyone that you’re his and also because they’re useful when you decide to suck Steve off in his car when the drive in movie he takes you to is boring

Steve always looking up the local newspaper for affordable apartments so you can live together away from his parents house

Holding hands while he drives

Always telling you you're prettier than the actresses in the movies you watch while the gang gags at his cheesiness

Steve spending the holidays with your family and finally realising how much fun they could actually be

Bringing him and Robin lunch in Family Video

Steve picking you up from work on his days off “Hi honey, how was your day?”

Night swimming in his pool and feeling his fingers untying your bikini strings

Going on drives to nowhere just to see where you end up

Getting him to sing to you because it’s his secret talent and it really turns you on

Going on cheap dates because you hate fancy restaurants and prefer pizza

Dancing with you in his kitchen

Coming home drunk from a party and talking until the break of dawn

Steve whispering to you about his hopes for your future together when you have a bad dream and can’t sleep

Playing twister on date night but it always leads to sex

El and Max asking you for advice on relationships because you and Steve never break up unlike Nancy and Jonathan

Leaving Hickeys on Steve’s neck before he goes to work to annoy him

Steve leaving you notes when he leaves early but doesn’t want to wake you “Morning baby, how about dinner tonight at Enzo’s? Or we can just order a pizza and make out at skull rock, your choice - Love you x

Teasing Steve in public because you know how frustrated he gets

Sitting on his lap, whispering sweet nothings in his ear when he isn’t giving you attention at a party and you get a little too horny because he looks so good

Him never being able to say no to you

Steve always being willing to try new things in the bedroom with you “Baby I got this book today, you have to check it out, the positions are crazy!”

Lying on his chest while he tells you about his day

Giving you the last of his popcorn when you go to the movies because he knows the little pieces are your favourite

Steve loves how excited you get for every holiday, especially Halloween and Christmas.

He teases you for crying at the happy ending of movies but he thinks its the cutest thing ever

Giving Eddie advice on romance because now that he's found you, he wants his friend to be happy too

Always beating Steve at bowling, not because he lets you, just because he sucks at it. “Oh yeah? Maybe next time I’ll take you to the basketball court and see how you like losing, huh hotshot?” He’d joke wrapping an arm around you, kissing your cheek as you return your bowling shoes to the counter

Being the only other person allowed to drive his car, a privilege you’re extremely proud of. “I can’t believe you’re actually letting me drive this.” You squeal as Steve tosses you the keys, walking towards the passenger door. “Baby, if you drive the car as good as you fuck in it, we really won’t have a problem.” Steve teases as you slide in to the driver seat confidently.

Having stupid fights and Steve always apologising first because he hates it when you’re mad at him (not that you can stay mad for too long)

The hot make up sex you have after

Running you baths and lighting candles

Sneaking off from parties to find a bathroom you can make out in

Taking Steve to lingerie shops so he can help you pick out something sexy “Baby, I think you should get these, pink is totally your colour” “Oh I love lace!” “Crotchless panties, why would….Oooooh, they’re going in the basket.”

Steve being a professional pussy eater – the man just loves to watch you squirm underneath him and he could stay there for hours

Gathering his own little collection of sex toys to use on you because watching you cum is his favourite hobby

Never letting you shower alone because Steve wants to spend time with your boobies, he literally talks to them while you rinse out your hair

Wearing his old jerseys because seeing his last name draped across your back, drives him insane.

He knows he’ll make you Mrs Harrington eventually, he already has the ring picked out

[bowlofsoob]

SOOBIN AS YOUR MUTUAL THAT YOU HATE IRL — part two

part one

soobin x gender neutral reader

you and soobin have been mutuals on twitter for almost a year as you both run bebe rexha fan accounts. he uses a fake name and you guys get along well, you talk to him more than your irl friends atp. on the other hand you and soobin don’t get along irl after constantly competing for the number one spot on the academic leaderboard. since then he always gives you a rbf and says he finds you too obnoxious. but that all changes when you finally decide to meet your favorite oomf in person.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

The street was dark apart from the flickering lamps on the side of the walkway as you made your way towards Steve – or well Soobin’s – house. It still felt odd.

Your palms felt clammy and you were clad in your pajamas, in too much of a rush to change. Which was a decision you were regretting since the flimsy fabric did nothing to protect you against the wind.

Before you knew it you spotted the complex Soobin supposedly lived in, and as you walked closer you could see his tall figure waiting for you in the dark. It would’ve been rather creepy if not for the fact he was drowning in a large hoodie and sweats with a beanie tugged on his hair. His arms were crossed across his chest as he rocked back and forth due to the cold.

You swallowed your nerves and made your way towards him, not quite knowing what to do with your hands other than give him an awkward wave as he spotted you.

“Hey,” he breathed out, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

The warmth of his apartment was far more welcoming than the freezing night. He shut the door behind you both and tugged off his beanie as he gestured for you to sit down.

“Hi,” you greeted back as you sank down on his couch. The entire place felt very lived in.

Soobin’s face scrunched up into an abashed smile.

“I missed you,” you added, “I’m glad you reached out.”

“I am too,” he hummed, reaching out to take his hand into yours. His palms felt warm against your own freezing ones.

“What was your last text about?” you question as his thumb rubs circles on your palm.

“I don’t know what your talking about?” he smiles, “What did I say?”

“You know damn well what you said,” you huff.

“Okay, well I meant it,” he answers, “I convinced myself to try and forget you since you were an online friend. But having you right in front of me changed things.”

“Changed things how?” you say, warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“Well, for one I can actually see you,” Soobin notes, “And do things like this,” he adds, his voice going quiet as he reaches over to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And, instead of fantasizing about kissing you, I could actually do it.”

“You fantasized about it?” you ask in disbelief, still flustered at the touch of his hand so close to your face “You didn’t even know what I looked like!”

“You were kinda just a blob in my mind,” he shrugs, a smile tilting his lips at your offended face.

“A pretty blob though, right?”

“Of course.”

“So, you really don’t hate me?” you muse, playing with his fingers, “It’s so weird seeing you be so gentle.”

“Would you rather me go back to being rude?” he replies, “But I really don’t. I feel a little ashamed at how I used to treat you.”

“It’s okay, I did the same,” you assure, patting his hand, “Let’s start fresh.”

“Okay,” he agrees, clasping your hand in between his, “Let’s go out.”

“Straight to the point?”

“I don’t think we should waste any more time,” he replies, “I need to make it up to you.”

“Kiss me and consider yourself forgiven,” you manage to croak out, your throat closing up at your false confidence. Honestly, you were qute irritated with yourself on how you treated Soobin for the past few months. You desperately wanted to move on and start fresh.

Soobin let out a surprised laugh and you wanted to ingrain the sound into your mind. He brought up his free palm to his mouth and let out a small giggle into it.

“Okay,” he manages to say, taking a deep breath.

“Any day now.”

“Shut up, I need a moment–,” he started, but was interrupted as you reached over and yanked on his hoodie to slot his lips against yours. He stumbled and you both fell backwards onto the couch as he caught himself above you, both knees outside your hips as you snaked your hands around his waist.

He stared at your for a mere moment in disbelief before leaning down to capture your lips with his. His lips felt pillowy against your own and his warm body right on top of yours made it feel just as good.

You had to remind yourself not to laugh into the kiss with how happy it made you feel.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

future texts and tweets

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ He Fell First; Literally

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: lanauage, minor mentions of an ED so if that's something that might trigger you DO NOT READ IM NOT JOKING, author's note: so painfully not canon. i try my best, really i do, but i was not reading those books for memory at 12. i was consuming those books at a rate never before seen, not locking things into my brain. but the fact that i can feel in my bones that it's not super canon accurate makes me want to gorge my eye out but whatevas

y/n was having a pretty crap day. she had been up before apollo allowed the sun to rise, staring blankly over at percy’s side of the cabin. she had been keeping it the same, not shifting the comforter too much or moving his dirty socks from under the bed, knowing he hated when she messed with his stuff. but, every morning, she made sure the dust wasn’t settling. because dust meant more time passed and that thought made her queasy, even though it’s been months.

then, once it was a more acceptable time for her to leave cabin three, y/n had been running around the whole day. she was helping the harpies with breakfast then she had to train some of the younger kids with spears then she helped the hephestus cabin out which left her covered in soot and smelling like a firework. she helped clean out the pegasus stalls, allowing connor and travis to leave early and do as they please. all of that before ten in the morning! she marched her way to breakfast when it was called, putting stuff on her plate to ultimately scrape it all off into the fire, prayers and wishes for percy’s return and safety on loop in her mind. then, she had what chiron liked to call ‘check-ups’ but it was just therapy. she wouldn’t go if he hadn’t threatened to take away her title of camp counselor, something she prided herself on. so, she went, and she lied and said she definitely didn’t cry late at night and she definitely slept through the night and didn’t wake up from nightmares of her little brother contorted in unnatural ways and covered in blood.

leo would say his day was going pretty well, on the other hand. if you ignore the part that his best friend got amnesia, his bully turned into some tornado thing, both of his best friends fell into the grand canyon only to fly back up, and coach hedge was half goat. actually, his day was pretty crap too. now, he was sitting in some chariot thing, with a buff guy that had an inclination for rainbows and a blonde girl that was beyond disappointed by them for just being them. then, another tornado thing showed up, damaging the chariot and sending them rapidly towards the ground, though butch managed to still hold some control. good news was that they were at they’re location, bad news was that landing was going to be a bitch. the blonde girl leaned over the side of the chariot, looking around for someone.

“what are you doing?!” leo called over the rushing wind, looking at her like she was crazy, which took a lot considering the day he’s had.

“saving our lives. what time is it?” she asked, frantically, and leo just continued to stare.

“you’re asking for the time now?!”

“around 11, why does it matter?” piper replied, her grip firm on the side of the chariot.

“because we’re lucky!” the blonde girl replied with a wide grin before cupping her mouth, “y/n!”

“don’t feel very lucky right now,” leo muttered.

y/n marched away from the big house, muttering about the centaur under her breath before hearing a shout for her name. she frowned, looking around and seeing no one. then she looked up, her shoulders sagging as she noticed the chariot rapidly heading towards camp, a familiar blonde leaning over the edge, waving her hands and basically jumping up and down while she called out to y/n.

“annabeth!?” y/n called back, quickly breaking out in a run to get a closer look. she squinted, and noticed one of the wheels was missing.

“oh, gods,” y/n huffed before motioning towards the lake, “butch! go to the lake!”

“the lake? this high up, we might as well just jump off into the ground now,” jason stated, tilting his head at the blonde, annabeth, who seemed rather giddy even though they were most certainly about to die.

“not if the water comes to us,” she replied with a shrug, leaving the three to stare at her.

“oh, she’s cray-cray,” leo grumbled to himself, glancing down at the water that would certainly feel like cement if they jumped. the other blonde stood at the beach, other kids in orange t-shirts beginning to gather and stare.

“you guys have to jump!” y/n called, knowing she couldn’t catch all five of them and the chariot and the pegasus. she knew butch would look out for the pegasus and unclip him so he wouldn’t be injured. but still.

“i will not!” piper insisted, if anything, she tightening her hold on the chariot.

“you will die if you stay on,” annabeth told her, before gripping piper’s shoulders, “you have to trust me.”

“we just met you,” leo argued, causing annabeth to look over her shoulder at him.

“that’s when trust works best,” she reasoned and leo swallowed thickly, as she was starting to convince him.

“annie! running out of time here!” the girl from the beach called nervously.

“okay,” leo breathed out, causing piper to look at him like he’s crazy too.

“leo?!”

“look, if we’re gonna die anyways, i wanna be cool while i do it,” he joked back, like usual, moving closer to the open end. piper took a few more seconds to decide before moving towards him, a false confidence settling over her face.

without another thought, the five of them quickly ditched the chariot, which sent them plummeting towards the water…which seemed to rise to meet them, allowing them to simply slip into the bubbles, no so much as a sting against their skin. then they washed up against the beach, like the ocean was spitting them out. leo coughed up some of the water that managed to invade his lungs, rolling onto his back as he looked up at the sky. a girl’s face intercepted his view, the sun behind her head and hiding her features in shadows. he could make out her golden waves for hair, which were beginning to look like a halo from his view.

“you okay?” she asked, holding a hand out to pull him up.

“just peachy,” he muttered back, getting his arms behind himself and pushing his body into a half seated position. the sun moved from behind the girl’s face to next to it, allowing him to see her features finally. she gave him a soft smile, something like a laugh leaving her lips as she tilted her head at him. all the air squeezed out of his lungs and he felt like he could burst into flames, something he was rapidly trying to get under control.

“you could be having a worse day. i could have been busy,” the girl mused, shrugging her shoulders and leo opened his mouth to reply but the words seemed to die on his tongue, only sounds coming out. the girl giggled, sweetly, and it was like hearing the ocean in a seashell. then, a loud crash interrupted the moment, y/n’s head instantly shooting up and watching the chariot sink into the lake. she winced, quickly rising to her feet as another girl marched to the edge of the water, a shocked look on her face.

“nyssa, nyssa, please don’t freak out! i- i can get it out, promise!” the girl quickly reasoned, following with her hands outstretched like the other girl was a feral beast.

“y/n, we can’t build another one! the curse-”

“doesn’t exist. it’s all mental,” the blonde girl, assumable y/n, muttered in protest, earning her a glare.

“y/n!” nyssa huffed, throwing her hands up.

“i’ll get it out right now,” insisted y/n, raising her hands before another loud crunch was heard, the water rippling with an even louder gurgle. y/n winced again, lowering her hands as nyssa’s mouth dropped in shock.

“it didn’t-”

“it did,” y/n confirmed before nyssa screamed with her mouth closed, marching off. y/n closed her eyes, taking a calming breath before turning to the crowd that had gathered around the new arrivals.

“hey! shoo! nothing to see here,” she joked, waving away the other people in orange, watching them slowly leave, not without a few more glances at the newly found trio. she spun back to the new arrivals, helping piper to her feet before turning to annabeth, pulling her into a hug.

“hey, you!” she cheered before pulling back, noticing the blonde’s discouraged look, “hey, he’s okay. we’d feel it if he wasn’t. go get chiron, yeah? i’ve got this.”

“i know…but, it’s hard,” annabeth whispered back. y/n patted her cheek lovingly before gently steering her away.

“hello! sorry, this is one of the more chaotic ways i’ve seen people come to camp! busy, busy, that’s me,” y/n stated as she approached the three with a welcoming smile.

“i’m sorry, but who are you? why are we here? where even is here?” piper questioned rapidly, still trying to wring the water out of her shirt.

“agh, this is going terribly,” y/n huffed before taking a quick breath, “let’s start over, yeah? i’m y/n l/n. this is camp half-blood, which is a camp for people like us, children of gods and morals. therein lies the ‘half blood.’”

“god? like, god and jesus?” leo questioned, squinting and tilting his head. y/n gave him a soft smile, which caused his bpm to surely spike.

“no, greek gods. athena, poseidon, zeus,” y/n listed quickly.

“jupiter,” jason corrected before he could stop himself, frowning as the word left his mouth. y/n turned to him with a small frown too, tilting her head.

“that…that’s roman…interesting,” she muttered before shaking her head, “sorry. i never asked your names.”

“you apologize a lot. i’m piper mclean,” piper stated, holding her hand out to shake y/n’s already stretched hand.

“sorry,” y/n jokes, winking, causing piper to let out a little laugh. she then turned to jason, who seemed to be deep in thought, before he shook it off and looked at her.

“jason…grace.” he replied, unconfidently.

“you…you don’t seem so sure,” y/n replied, giving his hand a quick shake with a frown.

“i’m not. i’ve- i’ve got amnesia,” he replied, causing y/n’s frown to deepen.

“i’m sorry to hear that. i’ll make sure to tell will. he’s our resident healer, maybe he can figure it out,” y/n told him, giving him a soft smile to which he nodded off, before y/n turned to leo. she had to admit, he’d caught her eyes easily. his curly hair and olive skin, how his hands never seemed to sit still (more so than expected of demigods), the way he smiled at her. but, she’d closed off that part of her heart a long time ago. she didn’t have time for it, she’d tell herself late at night.

“leo valdez. bad boy supreme,” he offered up, causing y/n to raise an eyebrow at him as he briefly shook her hand before flipping it over and pressing his lips against. she rolled her eyes, fighting off a blush.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you're a child of aphrodite,” she replied with a huff, slowly pulling her hand back.

“right back at ya,” leo mused, proudly with a wink.

“down boy,” mocked y/n before turning away and to the other two present, “alright, so i’ll start of the tour of camp half-blood! don't worry, you're gonna love it here!”

you were expert at this tour, sure you could give it blindfolded. you told little anecdotes, even managing to earn you a smile from jason, something you proudly celebrated. you walked backwards as you called out the cabins, pointing with both hands like a flight attendant signaling exits. at least, you thought that's what you looked like. you really had no idea as you've never been flying and probably never would, zeus not exactly a big fan of yours. for such a short tour, quite a lot of claiming went down, something that had you fondly thinking of your brother and not so fondly thinking of luke castellan. you ended your tour at the big house, knowing chiron would be wanting to talk to them, jason especially.

"chiron's gonna take it from here. if you've got any questions, don't be afraid to seek me out!! well, enjoy camp!" y/n mused, clapping her hands before going to walk away but chiron called out to her, ignoring the wide eyed stares he was getting from the trio for being part horse.

"y/n, dear, would you be so kind as to check on annabeth? i worry for her. oh, and will mentioned something about needing help in the infirmary...if you'd be willing," he stated and leo could tell from the minor twitch of her eye that y/n wished she wasn't so willing.

"of course, chrion. when have i ever said no to you?" the girl asked, plastering a smile on her face that clearly took a lot out of her before spinning around on her heels and marching away. and leo's eyes stayed on her, and while they'd typically drift down to her ass, he couldn't bring himself to look downwards as his worry for her overtook his soul.

dinner finally came around, leo sort of following nyssa like a lost puppy. he wasn’t completely sure of himself in this place yet, and nyssa was more than happy to show him the ropes. she grabbed her own dinner, showing him how before one of their other siblings calls for her. she left him and leo glanced around before his eyes settled on a nearby blonde, a smile growing on his lips. he slid in behind her, pretending to be excited over a roll and plopping it down on his plate. y/n glanced over at him, a small smile appearing on her lips before she continued walking and inspecting the food presented to them.

“so, day one. how’s it going?” she asked, sighing as she glanced at the food. her stomach was aching for some food, but her guilt held stronger. Who knows the last time percy had a good meal…or even if he was alive-

“eh. you know, as far as first days in new places go, this isn’t too bad. once got swirly within the first hour of being at a new school,” leo mused, throwing together a random plate of food. y/n laughed lightly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed an apple.

“give a few hours, the ares kids can smell fresh meat,” y/n joked back, leaning over with a wink before walking away from the food towards her table. leo's lips twitched into a small frown before quickly grabbed a bowl of fruit before following.

“so, are there like clique tables i should watch out for or?” leo prompted, fully expecting to sit with y/n. she looked over at him, her brows furrowing.

“nyssa didn’t tell you? you sit with your siblings. each god and goddess has a table. yours is over there,” explained y/n, pointing over at the hephestus table while still walking towards her lonely table. leo continued to follow, a frown on his lips.

“so…you sit by yourself?” he questioned, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, “a girl like you shouldn’t have to sit by herself.”

“well, i wasn’t always alone…look, these- these are rules, okay? i’m sorry, leo, but you’ve got to sit at your table,” y/n replied, shaking her head as if ridding herself of memories. leo continued to frown before setting the bowl of fruit down on her table and sliding it over to her. she looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

“you didn’t grab enough to eat,” he explained with a shrug before giving her a salute as he walked back to his table. y/n’s eyes never once left him until he was with his siblings and managed to catch her gaze, the girl promptly averting her eyes and missing the smile that grew on leo’s lips. she looked down at the bowl of fruit fondly before digging in, eating her fill for the first time in months.

“what’s her story?” leo asked over dinner, his eyes trained on y/n as his fork passively stabbed at something on his plate. nyssa looked up from her food at him before following his gaze to y/n.

“who? y/n? ha, you must think highly of yourself,” nyssa scoffed, noting the ways his eyes practically formed hearts. leo sputtered, turning to nyssa with a glare.

“what?”

“she’s got every guy in camp half-blood on her tail. i wish you the best of luck trying to win her over, many people have tried and failed,” nyssa replied with a shrug.

“not what i meant,” leo huffed, returning his eyes to his plate. nyssa looked over at him, frowning.

“what did you mean then?”

“how’d she get here? what’s she like? stuff like that,” leo answered before shaking his head, “look it’s stupid-”

“she’s enigmatic. nicest girl you’ll ever meet, but harsh when she needs to be. she never backs down from anything; she once performed a whole choreographed song and dance during lunch because she lost a bet. poor y/n had to do stall duties for a week after that, but she did it with a smile, telling everyone it was so worth it. y/n l/n is the best of all of us,” nyssa cut in, her words so honest and truthful that leo got sucked in.

“her brother, percy, went missing a few months ago. she lived for him, everything she did was for her brother. technically, they aren’t even full siblings, like you and i. but, they weren’t like that. they became family quickly. she likes to pretend that she’s fine, but everyone knows she’s not. that bowl of fruit…it’s the first thing i’ve seen her eat in a few weeks," confessed nyssa, giving leo a pointed look. he couldn't help the pride that filled his chest at the thought.

and then determination quickly settled into the boys bones. he was determined to make sure she kept eating, three meals a day at least. he was determined to make her laugh, help her find some joy. he was determined to ensure that the daughter of the sea god never saw another cloudy day, not if leo had anything to say about it.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

[mrslankyman]

Change

Mike Schmidt x (Fem) Reader

-> eventual smut

-> Mikes friends Sister

-> mentions of alcohol/drunk mike

->3.5K words

————————————————————————————————————————

Everyday felt the same. It was the same drag. Wake up, work, go to sleep, wake up, work, go to sleep and so on.

Today was different how ever. I was going over to my friend Tyler’s house. Abby decided to stay at her friends this weekend. So I had some down time.

I head up to his house. Knocking on the door. He lived about 10 minutes away. Took me 20 to get here. I like to just drive around. Take my mind off things.

Tyler opens the door and looks down at me. He’s always been taller. Which made me slightly annoyed.

“Come on in. Oh by the way.. my sister moved in. She needs a place to stay so. Sorry if she annoys you.” He chuckled and plopped on his couch. I’ve only ever met Tyler’s sister once. Back a few years ago. She came to his Christmas party.

I shrug not really caring and sit down beside him. He chats with me about random things. We hadn’t hung out in 2 months. We’d call but that was about it.

”Hey, I gotta run to the store.” Tyler says getting up. “Im gonna get us some booze. Gonna have a fun night. Your sisters at a friends yeah?” Tyler asked making sure it was okay to get drunk tonight.

“Yeah she’s staying over.” I answer looking down at my shoes. Even around Tyler I couldn’t seem to pull out a happy tone.

“Sick. Ima go get some then. You need to loosen up a little tonight. Relax. You can watch what ever you want.” He says as he headed out. Of course. He leaves me alone here.

Not that I mind much. I’ve stayed over here a lot before my dad took his life. Back when I had a little more freedom.

Not that I mind taking care of Abby. She gave me a reason to keep going. Though sometimes a little break is nice.

I hear a door down the hallway open. I almost forgot Tyler’s sister was here. She came walking into the living room. Her eyes landed on me and she gave a confused look.

“He went to the store.” I said looking over at her. My eyes linger a little. She must of got all the good looking genes. Tyler got zero.

“Mike right? Tyler’s friend?” She asked walking over. I nod and look at the tv again.

“Yeah.” I don’t look at her. I keep my eyes on the Tv. “Not much of a talker?” She asked curiously.

“Not really..” I say my voice quite. I didn’t wanna show any interest. She was Tyler’s sister. I also felt slightly uncomfortable.

“You and him gonna get drunk?” She stood up and headed to the kitchen.

“Probably. I don’t drink much so.. this will be fun I hope.” My reply wasn’t much of a welcoming one. I didn’t wanna talk. I hated talking to new people.

Last time I talked to her I was more than likely black out drunk on Christmas.

“Right. Well I’m gonna go back to my room. Don’t tear up the house please.” Her request made me look at her. She was already off down the hall.

I assume Tyler makes her clean or she does most the cleaning. Tyler obviously wasn’t the one keeping this house so in order.

——

I was about 8 beers in. They tasted terrible. But my mind was fuzzy. One thing I liked about getting drunk was I didn’t feel so sad. I loosened up. Me and Tyler were cracking jokes. He offered to invite some more friends over. Soon enough there was a party.

How the hell did we get to this? There was about 10 of us now. Not too big of a party but still. This house was too cramped for all of us. They were busy watching some game show on tv.

I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. I felt like I was gonna throw up. Maybe drinking wasn’t so fun. I finally made it and slung the door open. Falling down and just breathed heavily.

When did walking become so tiering?

I let my head fall back on the rim of the tub. Just sitting there. Trying to subside the feeling. I hated throwing up. Something about it just made me afraid.

I covered my face and then slid my hands down. Letting them pull my skin till they fell off back to my chest. Foot steps came walking to the bathroom. Probably Tyler or one of his friends. They’d make me get up and leave. I didn’t feel like leaving though.

Instead my eyes landed on Y/N. She looked down at me. Partly confused and partly annoyed. “This is my bathroom. If you wanna puke in Tyler’s go upstairs.” She walked over to me and bent down.

“I don’t wanna go upstairs. I wanna stay here.” I looked up at her with pleading eyes. She sighed and sat down beside me instead. Crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fine. But I’m staying in here with you.” She kicked the door closed with her foot. “I don’t like any of Tyler’s friends. They’re all annoying.” She leaned her head back line mine. Smiling a little.

“Yeah. I don’t think they’re so bad.” I shrugged. Honestly that was a lie. I hated them. They were too loud and wanted to watch sports all day. I just wanted to sleep. Or be alone.

“You live in town?” Her question jolted me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, only a few minutes away. Where did you come from?” I turned to her.

“I was going to college back in our home state Arizona but.. money ran short. So I asked Tyler if I could stay with him here. He makes good money. He said yes and I work down at the diner now. Sparkys. It’s nice. My co-worker Ness says I should leave. Go back to college and be the great scientist I should be. I wish it was that simple.” She sighed. Her eyes going down to her feet. That feeling of not being good enough hit home to me.

“Hey, you’ll make it back one day. Stuff takes time. You wanna be a scientist you say? That’s pretty cool. I just work security at the mall.” I tried to cheer her up. Make my life sound terrible. I mean it is. She doesn’t have to know that.

“That’s not so bad. I think a security job suits you. Maybe I will.. or maybe I’ll change careers. Maybe being a server at Sparkys my whole life would be amazing.” Sarcasm laced her voice at the end. I frowned slightly and looked away. The buzzing feeling coming back in my head.

“I get it. Feeling like a dead end. Life is difficult but.. we all make it with what we got.” I closed my eyes. She said something but I honestly didn’t hear. I was already asleep.

——

So rightfully so when you wake up in your own house after blacking out in a friends bathroom you’d be confused. Which I was. I looked around. How the hell did I even get back here? Did I drive? No possible way.

I looked down at my night stand and the answer was there for me. I picked up the small slip of paper.

‘You blacked out, drove you home. Lucky Tyler remembered your address. - Y/N’

A small smile creeped on my face. At least there was some hope for kind people in the world. Aunt Jane could use some lessons.

I grabbed my black hoodie and slid it on. Going for my dark blue jeans.

I didn’t have work tonight. So maybe I’d take Abby out for dinner.

——

I would be lying if I said I picked Sparkys cause it’s my favorite diner. It’s not. I only come here sometimes. Abby loved it though. She loved the milk shakes.

We headed inside. Abby over joyed to get out of the house. Me on the other hand. I had about $10 to tip our waitress. She deserved it.

We headed inside picked out booth and waited. Y/N came walking over. In the usual Sparkys outfit. She smiled at me before seeing Abby.

“Didn’t know you had a kid.” She teased. Abby’s face scrunched up. “Gross. He’s my brother.” She corrected. Doing what kids do best and acting disgusted.

“Yeah she’s my little sister.” I nodded noticing Y/N’s demeanor shift. She seemed relaxed. Maybe she thought I had a wife or girl friend. Which wouldn’t look good if she took me home.

“What can I get for you two tonight?” She asked pulling out her note pad.

——

We ate dinner. Got the check. $14.30 wasn’t so bad. Abby did get a milk shake. I watched Abby as she raced out to the car. I slid down the $10 tip writing on the napkin.

‘Thanks for taking me home. - mike’

I walked up to the cash register. Paying the bill and heading out to take Abby and me home.

——

So to say the least I hadn’t seen Y/N in 2 weeks. No reason to go to Tyler’s and no reason to go to Sparkys. Until Abby begged to go. She wanted a milk shake. I couldn’t say no.

So we headed back. Going inside felt different. Like my hope of seeing Y/N against wasn’t going to happen tonight. And truth be told. It didn’t. Ness sat us. I remember him. I’ve talked to him maybe 4 times. Heard about him through Y/N as well at the ‘party’.

he greeted us cheerfully and sat us down.

“I’ll be back with that Pepsi and your milk shake.” He smiled and walked off to the kitchen.

I was looking around. Searching for Y/N. Why I have no clue. Why did I care if she was working tonight?

“Who you looking for?” Abby asked curiously I quickly looked over at her. “No one just looking around.” My face blushed. Of course she catches me.

“There’s not much to look at. Are you looking for that girl?” She smiled wide. How does she always know?

“No..” I lied feeling my face flush more. “Sure.” Her simple reply told me everything. She definitely knew.

“She’s pretty. Why don’t you tell her you like her?” Such an innocent question. Why don’t I tell her?

“I don’t know Abs .. it’s complicated.” I sighed leaning my head in my hands.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” She urged on. “Just tell her she’s pretty.”

“I.. Abby let’s drop it okay?” I was getting irritated. Not at her. At my self. I always do this. Never say what I want too. I guess if I want to get with someone I have to make moves.

On big problem is she’s Tyler’s sister. I don’t wanna just date his sister without his approval.. which in part isn’t his business but.. we’ve been friends for so long it be wrong to not ask.

“Here’s that milk shake for you little lady.” Ness says smiling setting down Abby’s milk shake.

“Y/N says thanks for the tip. She wasn’t sure when she’d see you again. But she told me about it.” Ness spoke to me. Which made me look at him confused for a moment. “Oh ugh.. tell her it’s no problem.” I answered nervously he gave a little smirk. Like he was definitely going to tell Y/N about this interaction.

——

It’s been 5 weeks. 5 whole weeks. I really should’ve left my number. My mind races every night. Thoughts of her. How can someone fall for another in such short time? With such little interactions?

I feel like knowing she cared enough to take me home made me fall harder. Never having anyone in my high school days also makes this harder.

My mind tracks back to any girl I’ve talked too. Any girl I’ve let get intimate with me that would end it after a week or two. None of them did something this small that made me feel this much.

I close my eyes and all I can see is her. I doubt she thinks of me.

I haven’t went back to Sparkys. I don’t wanna look like a creep. Though I’d die to see her again. Just chat. Even a simple hello would be enough.

I’m cool on the outside how ever. Abby hasn’t mentioned her since that night at Sparkys.

Tyler hasn’t called me. I assume we won’t hang out for a good while again.

The second I thought all hopes were lost and this crush of mine was a waste I met her again.

We were down at the store. Just trying to get some last minute groceries before it closed. I bumped into her.

She said she had to get some food for the house. Tyler never wanted to go grocery shopping. I nodded and listened to her rant. She thanked me for the tip. Thought she told me not to do it again. It was too much money to leave as a tip.

She wasn't wrong. I could really use every penny I got but.. it seemed worth it for her.

We exchanged numbers. Stating how she had few friends in this town. On the outside I was cool about it. Just giving her my home phone number. On the inside though. My stomach was doing flips.

——

So we call. We chat. We hang out at my house. She didn’t want Tyler to think she was stealing his friend.

Funny enough she was.

We sat on the couch. It had been 3 weeks since we started talking. Abby went off to some friends for the weekend. Tabitha was the girls name. They had been friends for a while. I had no problem with her going to a friends. At least she had more than me.

“You think this movie is good?” Y/N asked as I looked at her. Shrugging I lean back in the couch. “Honestly no, but it’s something to watch.” She giggled at my response. “I suppose you’re right.” She leaned back copying my position. She was slightly closer.

Closer than she had been before.

I could feel her arm against mine. The heat from the small amount friction felt like it set me on fire. Not even the sleeves of my black hoodie could cloak the feeling of her arm.

I don’t wanna be a perv. I wish I didn’t pick jeans to wear tonight. They weren’t doing me any favors as I felt my dick harden.

I prayed she didn’t notice. It be to obvious if I took the pillow at the end of the couch and hid it. It also be weird if I didn’t.

My eyes stayed glued to the tv. My face turning red. My stomach was doing flips. All just from her arm touching mine. That was until..

“You okay?” She asked looking in my eyes. I looked back at her nervously. “Yeah.. fine.” I swallowed back my spit nervously. She was leaning closer. Too close. If the bulge in my pants didn’t scream I like you the redness on my face sure would.

Her eyes flicked down. I was so caught. She’d tell Tyler and he’d tell me off for finding his sister attractive. I’d lose a friend. I’d lose my dignity and be even more embarrassed.

I watched her as her eyes flicked back up to mine. A small smirk spread across her face. Not the reaction I was thinking off.

“Want some help?” She asked, when did her voice become so seductive? If it was possible my face got even redder. It felt like the fiery pits of hell had come up to my face.

“W-what..?” Of course I sound like a nervous idiot. “Do you want help?” She titled her head having that look on her face. Her hand rested in my thigh now.

“Would it be weird if I said yes?” Some confidence had come back. I could do this.

“It be weird if you said no.” She giggled and slid her hand up further. Her palm of her hand rubbed up my bulge. Did I get the right size jeans?

I groaned as she rubbed back and forth. It was one thing to have my hand do it but to have hers? It felt 10x better.

I leaned my head back and let her do her thing. Till she crawled up onto my lap. I opened my eyes and looked at her.

She smirked down at me wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“You’re so hot.” Her words hit my ears and that was it. She pressed her lips to mine and my hands instantly went to her grabbing her hips. She grinned against me, I’d push her down harder. Moans escaped my lips in between kisses. The feeling of her jeans against me was something else.

She finally pulled away. Catching her breath between unbuttoning her jeans. Before I could even blink they were off. Leaving her in her underwear. My eyes shot up to her. Trying to be as respectful as I could.

“I didn’t take you to be such a horny guy. You fooled me with the sweet and quiet act.” She unzipped my jeans. I don’t respond. I was too caught up in the moment. Before I know it she had my pants off and was back to grinding. This time it felt 100x different.

It almost hurt how good it felt. To feel my cock slipping between her folds. Though I slightly wished the fabrics of our under garments weren’t there.

Her tongue slid into my mouth after a small gasp. I didn’t ever wanna let her go. I didn’t ever want my dick to go soft again. I just wanted to make out on this couch for ever.

“I want you Mike.” Her words made my dick twitch, my heart race, and my head spin. “I want you too..” I moaned out as she kissed my neck. Her lips were so intoxicating. Wether on my lips or skin. I wanted them. I wanted them all over me.

I was growing tired of waiting. I wanted her. I wanted her so bad. I wanted her now, tomorrow , and forever.

I slid my hand down. Pulling my dick out of my boxers. She put her forehead against mine and we locked eyes. She nodded slowly. Giving me the green light to go head. I used my other hand and pushed her underwear to the side. Giving me enough room to just slid in.

She moved her head to the crook of my neck and moaned. I gently guided my self inside before I was all the way in.

“You’re so fucking good.” She whispered in my ear. That sent me in a craze. Because I don’t even remember when but we ended up in my room. Clothes completely off. Going on round 2.

——

My thoughts spun around as I saw her laying on my bed. Naked. I looked down at my self.

We did it..

i felt her shift and sit up slowly. I felt her eyes on me so I turned to look. Her face was red and she smiled awkwardly. “Hey..”

“Hey.” I answered looking down. Should I ask? What if she thought last night was a one time thing? Just a quick fuck and go back to being friends.

“Was last night-“ “did you-“

We both stopped and laughed a little. “You go first.” I offer, she nodded and sighed.

“Did you..like it? Or well.. do you like me? I just wanna know if last night was just something for fun or do you genuinely like me?” Her question stung a little.

She thought I was just doing it for fun? Do I come off as that big of an ass hole?

“No. No no.. I didn’t just do it for fun. I genuinely like you.. a lot.” I scooted closer. She smiled a little. Relief washed over her face.

“Thank god… I was worried you were just using me.. as like.. I don’t know ‘My friends hot sister is in town let’s try to fuck her.’ .. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” She looked down. I frowned and leaned closer to her.

“I’d never do that to you. I think you’re a beautiful and smart girl. Someone who doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. I wanna get to know you. Learn about science with you. Hell maybe even.. go further in life with you… if you wanted to that is.” My face flushed as I pooled out my thoughts. Her sweet laugh filled my ears and she kissed me. Not a sexual kiss, just a sweet gentle kiss. Much different from last night.

“I’d love to teach you about science and go further in life with you and just get to know you as well..”

I felt over joyed. That was until we had to tell Tyler. Turns out he already knew. He had a hunch his sister talking about some guy everyday wasn’t just some guy.

Abby approves of her too. They often hang out and color together. I’m sorta jealous I can’t join in on the ‘girl squad’ hang outs but. At least I have my two favorite girls in the whole world with me.

That's all I need.

[gingiesworld]

Hello, My Love

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: This is the second part to Goodbye, My Love. I hope you guys enjoyed this and please let me know what you thought of it. <3

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @alexawynters @natleft (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Five years ago, the riot that had occurred within the prison was broadcasted over every news station. Reports of multiple inmates and Prison Guards were dead, there were more reported injuries. Wanda called Pepper, hoping to hear that she would never get the bad news, which she never did receive the bad news.

Five years, she carried on writing to them, telling them everything that had happened during her week, even telling them about the sucky dates that Nat kept setting her on. She even told them about her last interaction with Jarvis, that was only a few months ago.

“Wanda?” He smirked as they bumped into each other, Wanda tensed up at the sound of his voice. “How is Y/N? I’ve been meaning to visit them, congratulate them on making it to the NFL.” But then he chuckled. “But they never had the chance did they? Because they took the fall for you.”

“Please leave me alone.” Wanda whispered as he just laughed.

“Not so brave without a gun are we.” He sneered as she looked away from him. “It should be you in their place, you should be the one serving time for almost killing me.” Wanda just shook her head and walked away from him, the sound of his laugh remained in her mind for weeks after that.

But what she didn’t know was Y/N was now getting out on good behavior. They walked through the gates, seeing Nat leaning against her car, a smile on her face as she saw her oldest friend.

“Hey.” They gave her a small smile as she opened her arms for them.

“Hi.” She embraced them tightly, afraid to let go with the fear that they might disappear. “Let’s get you home.” They walked to the passenger side and got in, watching the roads as they passed by.

“How’s everyone been?” They asked her.

“Well, Morgan is now a troublesome teen. She missed you so much, the same as your mom.” She told them. “Oddly enough, your dad has tried to help get your release finalised sooner.” She noticed their shocked expression. “I know, I almost died too.”

“What about Wanda?” They asked her as she nodded, a tight lipped smile on her face. “She’s been sending me letters ever since I stopped her or anyone visiting me.”

“I know.” Nat told them. “She told me, she also told me you never replied to any of them.”

“I have written her letters.” Y/N told her. “I have them all here, but I just couldn’t send them to her.”

“Why?” Nat questioned as they looked out of the window.

“I wanted her to be able to move on, even if it meant that I was the one to let her go.” They admitted. “She knows how much I love her and I wanted her to live her life without ever thinking of me again.”

“It didn’t work though.” Nat started as Y/N nodded with a light chuckle.

“It didn’t, she told me about all of the dates you set her up on.” They spoke as they watched the road ahead. “She told me how she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than one date with any of them.”

“Because she is in love with you.” Nat told them. “She just realised it too late, and you were too much of a coward to tell her.”

“I know.” They nodded. “I just couldn’t deal with losing her if she never felt the same way.”

“I know.” She nodded as they soon reached New York. Their heart started to beat rapidly as they realised that they don’t look the same as they did a decade ago, they have scars and look worn out compared to how they used to look.

“What if no one likes me now?” Y/N questioned as Nat chuckled.

“Believe me, everyone has missed you so much Y/N.” She told them. “Well, except Jarvis.”

“Please tell me he has finally moved away.” They groaned as Nat shook her head no.

“I’m afraid not.” She told them as she pulled into the Stark Mansion driveway.

“Fuck.” They muttered as they looked up at the place they called their home. “It looks even more intimidating now.”

“Yeah.” Nat laughed as she got out, followed by Y/N as they grabbed their bags, following Nat up the stairs to the door.

“Nat?” Pepper questioned as she answered the door.

“Mom?” Y/N smiled as they looked over Nat’s shoulder.

“Y/N?” She gasped as Nat moved to the side, taking Y/N’s bags and heading inside. “You’re home?”

“I’m home.” They told her, a smile on their face as she cupped their face, getting a proper look at them.

“You look rugged.” She told them.

“Yeah, I need to cut my hair.” They admitted as she shook her head

“I think you suit it.” She told them. “Come on, Morgan will be excited to see you.” She led them inside, listening as Morgan and Yelena were talking about their homework. “Morgan, look who’s here.” She told her as she let go of Y/N’s hand, Morgan’s eyes instantly landing on theirs.

“Y/N?” She squealed as she jumped up into their arms, Y/N chuckled as they caught her.

“Oh god.” Y/N hugged her close before letting her go. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Well, it has been 10 years now.” She reminded them as their heart broke a little.

“I missed you little one.” They told her softly as she hugged them tighter than before.

“Promise you won’t leave me again.” She whispered shakily.

“I’m not going anywhere.” They told her honestly. “I promise.”

“Come eat.” Pepper told them as Morgan led them into the dining room, Morgan catching Y/N up on everything they missed.

“You should have seen dad’s face when he found out that I wanted to be a writer.” Morgan told them with a smirk. “I thought he was going to pop a vein or something.”

“Well, he wasn’t happy that you were straying away from the family business.” Pepper stated.

“Just like he wasn’t happy with me when I strayed away from his dreams.” Y/N remarked as Pepper sighed, both Morgan and Nat remained silent. “Where is dad and Jarvis? I would have thought they could have been here, you know it has been 10 years after all.”

“Y/N, you know why your father isn’t here, same with Jarvis.” Pepper warned them.

“Yeah, they’re not happy because Wanda returned the ring when he was in the coma.” Morgan smirked as Nat and Y/N chuckled lightly.

“Your father and brother were devastated!” Pepper raised her voice. “Wanda would have been a fine addition to this family.”

“No.” Y/N shook their head. “She was too good for him.” Pepper went to interrupt but Y/N stopped her. “You know it too mom, Jarvis isn’t a nice guy, he never has been.”

“Y/N, he has changed.” She tried as Y/N snorted.

“And hell has frozen over.” Y/N remarked as Pepper shook her head in disapproval.

“Are you going to tell Wanda your back?” Nat questioned as Y/N tensed up.

“I don’t know.” They answered. “I have her letters there in my bag, but I don’t think she will want to see me.”

“She will.” Morgan told them. “She has been coming around to see how you are, if there has been any news.”

“She hasn’t moved on.” Nat told them. “I’ve tried to get her to go on dates and meet someone, just so she has someone and she doesn’t get past the first date.”

Y/N listened to them as they informed them of how Wanda has spent the last decade, how she has kept hope that she would see Y/N again, be with Y/N and have a future with them.

“Can you take me to Wanda’s?” Y/N asked Nat who only nodded with a smile.

“Let’s go then.” She told them, they kissed both Morgan and Pepper on the head before grabbing the bag with the letters for Wanda, and following Nat out to her car.

“How do you think she’ll react?” They asked her nervously.

“Well, I don’t really know.” Nat answered them. “She was furious that you did what you did for her. There was a brief moment she hated you but we all know she can’t hate you.” She sighed as she pulled up outside of Wanda’s building. “To be honest, she may be mad, she may be happy. It could go either way really.”

“That helps Natalia, really.” They spoke sarcastically as the two got out of the car. They followed her up the stairs to Wanda’s floor, wanting to take as much time as they could before seeing the woman they had failed to forget during their time in prison.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” Wanda asked as she answered the door to her, Y/N leaned on the wall as they heard her voice for the first time in years. Their heart beating rapidly in their chest as their nerves had gotten worse.

“Someone wanted to see you.” Nat told her. “They haven’t really stopped thinking about you or asking about you all day and it is kind of annoying.”

“You should have come later. I have company.” She told her with a raised brow.

“Is it Stu?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, he is just in the shower.” Y/N dropped the bag of letters on the floor as Nat noticed their expression falter before they started towards the exit.

“Well, I will want to hear all about it, but these are for you.” Nat handed her the bag of letters before she hurried after Y/N, she reached them as they leaned against the car waiting for her.

“You told me she wasn’t seeing anyone.” They told her sadly as Nat sighed.

“I thought she wasn’t, I set them up a couple of weeks ago and I never thought she would actually see him again because she never does.” Nat told them as they stepped away from the car.

“I’m going to walk home.” They told her as they stepped away. “I need to be alone right now.”

“Y/N, you’ve just got out, let’s celebrate.” Nat tried as they shook their head.

“Maybe it would have been better if I never survived the riot five years ago.” They told her.

“No.” She scolded them. “You do not get to say that! We have been friends forever and I hated the last decade! I hated it because my friend wasn’t here with me.” She took their hand. “Let’s go and see Steve and Bucky, there is a lot you have missed.” She led them to the car before starting their journey.

“What are those?” Stu asked as Wanda emptied the bag of letters on the table, organising them by date.

“Letters from Y/N.” She whispered as he picked one up.

“Why didn’t they ever send them?” He asked as she shrugged, standing up and getting herself a glass of wine.

“I don’t know.” She answered him, her eyes burning with years of unshed tears and emotions. “I think you should leave.” She told him as he laughed.

“Come on, Wanda, you can’t be serious.” He asked her. “We have been going out for a few weeks now, I asked you to be mine last night before we fucked.”

“Wow, real classy Stu.” She spat at him before she took a deep breath. “Maybe we need to take a step back.”

“No! That’s absurd!” He yelled as Wanda shook her head.

“No, what’s absurd is me thinking I could ever love someone else the way I love them.” She told him. “Please just leave and lose my number.” She told him as she held the door open for him, watching as he grabbed his things before approaching her.

“You’re going to regret this.” He told her as he stood before her.

“The only thing I regret is even giving us a chance.” She told him before slamming the door in his face, taking a deep breath as she locked the door and made her way back over to the letters.

She noticed from the first one, they had written to her since she had sent in her first letter to them. A small smile played on her lips at the idea of Y/N even having some hope for them.

Dear Wanda,

I know that this isn’t exactly a peak milestone in our friendship, but I think it should count. I got your letter and I am sorry that this happened to us. I just couldn’t picture you in here suffering for something that might have saved your life.

You’re my best friend, my biggest supporter, the ying to my yang.

Love Y/N/N

She smiled as she read their small letter, remembering how they could barely stand writing and always opted to call instead. But as she read the letters, she smiled at how much longer they had gotten.

Dear Wanda,

I know you probably hate me by now, I pushed you away when you needed me, but truthfully, you never really did need me. Seeing how you’ve written about your life this past couple of years has really made me proud. I am proud of the woman you have become Wanda and whoever is lucky enough to call you theirs should know it.

I know in another lifetime, maybe it did work out for us, maybe we would have worked out right now if I had the balls to tell you how I felt before college. Before you even thought of being with my brother. We could have had everything, maybe if I am lucky enough and you’re still single when I get out of here, we can have everything. I know that’s a pipe dream that’s never going to happen.

Love Y/N/N

Dear Wanda,

It’s been five years, and these five years have been the loneliest I have ever been. Yeah, I have a cellmate, Brock, he is a dick but he has my back. We have to look out for each other here or we could end up dead, believe me, there are some people here who hate my dad and they do tend to take it out on me because of my name and relationship with him, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

There hasn’t been a day where I don’t think about you, Wanda. Everyday I wake up and wonder what you might be doing today, are you happy and healthy? Have you found that person that makes you smile as soon as you open your eyes? But on some selfish level, I wish that you are as alone as me, I wish that maybe you’re waiting for me to get out of here, but that is all just wonders.

Love Y/N/N

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to read the next letter, given there is a two month pause in between them. Not wanting to read the extent of the injuries they suffered during that riot, the nightmares that occured after or the horror they witnessed.

“It’s so good to have you back!” Bucky cheered as he pulled Y/N into a tight embrace.

“Have you been to see Wanda? I’m sure she will be so thrilled.” Steve started as he pulled them into his embrace.

“We did.” Y/N told them with a small smile. “She had company.”

“She never saw Y/N, they just dropped the letters they wrote to her and left.” Nat told the couple.

“Was it Stu?” Steve questioned as Nat nodded.

“I don’t like him.” Bucky blurted out, making everyone laugh. “What? He is a pompous dick.”

“I can agree with that.” Nat nodded as Y/N looked out of the window.

“Y/N, I have something to show you.” Steve said as he led Y/N away from the other two, closing the door to his office before turning to them. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” They asked him.

“About how you feel.” He spoke softly. “I’ll be here to listen, a shoulder to lean on because I can see that you’re trying your hardest to put on a brave face.”

“I am anxious.” They started as they picked up a picture of Steve and Bucky on their wedding day, a smile on their face as they admired the picture. “I have spent the last decade a nervous wreck, barely a few hours of sleep each night, the threats that I received because of the amount of people who knew who I really was, thinking that The Great Tony Stark will pay out millions to ensure his child’s safety.” Steve just listened as they rambled on. “And tonight, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the nightmares. The last five years have been ok because I have been in a cell on my own, but I am home and I don’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“I don’t know how bad your nightmares are, but you have a lot of support here, your sister, mom and you have all of us. All we want is to help you through this because you have suffered a great deal while you have been inside.” He told them. “You won’t be alone ok.” He pulled them in for another hug before they pulled away quickly.

“I missed your wedding!!” They yelled as Steve nodded with a laugh. “I can’t believe I missed everything!!”

“It’s ok.” He smiled at them before resting his hand on the door handle. “Talk to Wanda, you never know what will happen tomorrow. You of all people should know that.”

Wanda stood at the step of the Stark Residence, knocking frantically, after reading the letter they wrote after the riot, she wanted to know why no one told her of their injuries.

“Wanda?” Morgan questioned as Wanda gave her a smile.

“Hi, is your mom here?” She asked the teen politely.

“Yeah, come in.” She let the now brunette inside, leading her to the living room where Pepper sat reading the paper.

“Wanda, what are you doing here?” Pepper questioned. “I would have thought you would be out with everyone celebrating.”

“Why would I be celebrating?” She questioned as Pepper raised a brow.

“Y/N’s home.” Was all she said before the door opened again, Wanda turned in time to see Y/N enter the living room. Her eyes stung with tears waiting to be shed as Y/N’s eyes widened, their heart beating rapidly in their chest as Pepper cleared her throat. “I think you two should talk.” She got up and grabbed Morgan’s wrist. “We are going out for dinner.” With that, Wanda was left in the house alone with Y/N.

“Hello, my love.” They gave her a nervous smile. “Do you want a drink?” They asked her as she just shook her head, her eyes never leaving their form. “Well, I need one.” She followed them into the kitchen, watching as they grabbed the whiskey and poured themselves a glass.

“You look different.” Wanda told them as they chuckled.

“Well, it has been 10 years.” They chuckled as they turned to face her.

“Don’t do that.” She told them firmly. “Don’t make it seem like this is all on me. I wanted to wait for you, fight for you, for us, because you were the one who pushed me away.”

“Because I wanted you to live your life Wanda! You deserve to find your happiness and not be constantly haunted by the thought of us!” They yelled as she chuckled dryly.

“Is that why you never sent me any of those letters? You just kept them in a bag thinking I would never read them.” She spat as she stepped closer to them.

“I wanted you to move forward Wanda. I wanted you to live your life and not wait on me.” They told her softly.

“I was willing to wait for you because I loved you!” She poked their chest. “I really loved you.” With that she left the house, leaving a sad Y/N behind.

“She just left?” Morgan asked as she sat beside Y/N on the sofa.

“Yep.” They nodded as Morgan chuckled lightly.

“I would have thought she would have jumped your bones after not seeing you for years.” She told them as they nudged her arm.

“Hey! Don’t talk like that.” They scolded her as she gave them a serious look.

“I’m not 6 anymore Y/N.” She told them. “I’m 16 now, but you wouldn’t know that, I haven’t had a happy birthday off of you in 10 years.” With that she stormed up to her room as Pepper walked in.

“Just give her time.” She told them. “She missed you so much when you were arrested, she cried every night for you.”

“I’m sorry mom.” They whispered as they looked at Pepper who only smiled.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” She told them. “I know the truth of what really happened. Nat told me, and then Wanda did.” Y/N sat and listened to her as she spoke. “I know what your brother is capable of, I know what he did to Wanda too and why she did it.” She turned to face them as she spoke. “I also understand why you did what you did, although I was furious with you, because you threw away your career for someone.”

“It wasn’t just someone.” Y/N remarked as Pepper smiled at them.

“I know that, I remembered seeing how you looked at her, how much you hated every guy she ever dated, how they were never good enough for her.” She told them. “I know you more than anyone, but you need to get your feelings in order because that girl has waited for you for 10 years.”

“She’s with someone.” Y/N told her sadly. “She told Nat and the guys.”

“Fight for her.” She told them. “Don’t give up on the one thing that gave you hope!” She pulled them up to their feet. “Go, now!” She handed them their keys, a smile appearing on their face. “I kept it looked after all these years, I may have neglected my own car just to keep yours running.”

“Thank you mom.” They whispered as they hugged her, soon racing their way to Wanda’s apartment, remembering the address and the number. Racing up the stairs, soon standing outside her door. Knocking frantically and waiting impatiently for her to answer it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked them as they gave her a small smile.

“The way we left it the other day, it shouldn’t have been left like that.” They rambled as she fought the smile that wanted to appear. “We both should be happy to see each other, not argue over something so small.”

“Would you like to come inside?” Wanda asked them. “I have a fresh pot of coffee on.”

“I would like that.” They smiled as she stepped aside, allowing them inside. They followed her through to her kitchen, admiring the decor and the pictures she had on the wall. “I got your letters.” They told her. “They uh got me through a lot of tough times.”

“Why didn’t you ever send your letters?” She asked them as they sighed, thanking her for the cup.

“I thought that maybe you would forget about me. Move on with your life without me.” They told her honestly. “I guess, I just thought that maybe you would be married to a great guy with a family of your own.”

“I couldn’t.” Wanda whispered as she looked in their eyes. “I tried to move on, I did but my heart belonged to you.” She exhaled sharply before continuing. “It still does.”

“Wanda.” They whispered as they soon pulled her in for a tight hug, Wanda sighed as she felt their strong arms around her middle. The two remained in this position for a long moment, neither wanting it to end just yet.

“Sit with me.” Wanda said as she soon dragged them to sit on the sofa, her head leaning on her hand as she gazed at them. “You have some scars.” She lightly touched their face as she looked into their eyes.

“Well, the riot wasn’t the only violence I had experienced.” They told her honestly. “I had a few run-ins with some of the inmates, and they weren’t exactly nice.”

“I think you look hot.” She whispered as they soon removed her hand from her.

“You’re in a relationship.” They told her, watching as she shook her head no.

“I ended it last week, the day Nat gave me your letters.” She told them honestly. “I knew there was no sense in moving on because I should be with you, Y/N.”

“You can’t say that and expect me not to kiss you.” They told her barely above a whisper, caressing her face as she smiled at them.

“What if I want you to kiss me?” She replied, biting her lip as she felt their hot breath fanning over her face. Y/N wasted no time in pressing their lips onto hers, kissing her roughly before she straddled their lap, soon spending the night exploring each other’s bodies.

Y/N listened as there was constant yells and banging from outside the cell, sharing a look with Brock who got his own homemade shiv from under his pillow. Watching as he disappeared onto the walkway, yelling profanities as he swung his weapon around.

Y/N listened to the pained yellings of injured inmates, the triumphant shouts of others as they stepped out of their cell, looking over the railings to see the guards also fighting for their lives. It wasn’t until they looked to their left, seeing someone charge at them, sending them over the edge and onto the lower level. Groaning as they turned over just in time to stop another stabbing them.

“Y/N!” They heard Brock call out to them, struggling against two fellow inmates. “Y/N!”

“Y/N.” They soon jolted awake and fell out of the bed, a worried Wanda looked over the edge. “Are you ok?” She asked them as they got up, climbing back in the bed and nodding.

“Yeah, it was just a nightmare.” They told her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked them as she rested her head on their chest.

“I’m fine.” They told her. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Is it about the riot?” She asked them as they took a deep breath. “I saw your other scars, I just want you to know that you can talk to me.” She told them softly. “I am not going anywhere.”

“It’s just, there was someone who I could have saved.” They told her. “My cellmate, Brock, he always had my back. Always stuck by me, even though he had every possibility to kill me to get in good with others who wanted me dead.” Wanda watched as they spoke, her fingers tracing mindless patterns on their skin. “He died, trying to help me. I wasn’t supposed to survive that riot, I was supposed to bleed out beside him but the guards, they shut it down.” Wanda took their hand in hers. “I was lucky, this scar here.” They pointed to the scar on their chest. “This was my end.”

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered as they shook their head. “It should have been me who went to prison, not you.”

“I would make the same choice every time.” They told her softly. “I would do anything for you Wanda. I always will.” She cupped their cheek as she moved to sit up, the moonlight cascading over her naked form as she looked deep into their eyes. Noses brushing together as she leaned in to kiss them lovingly, the bodies pressed together as Y/N wrapped their arms around her, making her feel safe and complete for the first time in her life. Only they know what their future holds for the two.

Five Years Later

Y/N was looking around for their belt and work boots frantically, nervous about this job as it is a big job for them.

“Wanda! Have you seen my?” Their words were lost in their throat as they saw a four year old Tommy waddling around in their boots and their belt hanging from his waist. “What do we have here little fella.” They smiled as they picked the toddling child up into their arms.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to keep him away from your things.” Wanda ran in frantically as Y/N only smiled at her.

“It’s ok.” They smiled as they kissed the side of Tommy’s head. “I am my own boss after all.” They pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

“I made your lunch.” She told them as she packed their bag with sandwiches and a flask of coffee as they finished getting themselves ready.

“Thank you.” They smiled as they finally stood up, ready for work. “My mom said she will have the twins tonight and maybe we can have a little date night.”

“I already promised Nat I would go out.” Wanda spoke seriously as Y/N’s smile faltered. “I can cancel if you want me to.”

“No, you should go and let your hair down.” They told her softly. “At least don’t drink too much and call me when you want to be picked up.”

“I will.” She kissed them once more before Billy came running into their arms, hugging them tightly before the three of them waved Y/N off as they drove their truck to the site, meeting Bucky already there and ready for work.

“So how is the wife and kids?” Bucky asked them with a smile.

“They are great, although Tommy seems to have taken a liking to my boots.” They told him honestly as they finished their last job for the day. “My mom is having the twins tonight and Wanda is going out with Nat.”

“So, you have the house to yourself.” He smirked as Y/N chuckled.

“I guess I can do some of the jobs that need doing and I haven’t gotten around to.” They shrugged as Bucky nodded.

“Or you can just sit back and relax.” He told them. “You’re not in prison now Y/N, besides, you served your sentence.”

“Not really though.” They shrugged as Bucky shook his head, the two standing up getting ready to leave. “I only finished half of my sentence.”

“But you got out.” Bucky told them. “You’re free to live your life, watch your family grow. Don’t dwell on the past.”

“I’m not.” They defended as Bucky followed them to the truck.

“You are.” He told them seriously. “Look, I don’t know half of what happened inside but I do know that you have the life you have always dreamed of with Wanda and the twins. Yeah, you may not have your dream job but that’s ok. You just have to make the most of the life you have now.”

Y/N took in his words before the two went their separate ways, he was right because they have always dreamed of living this life together with Wanda. Having a family with her and they have it all.

“I thought you were going out?” Y/N asked as they saw Wanda coming out from the kitchen, a dish of their favorite meal in her hands.

“I can go out with Nat anytime, but I want to spend the night with you.” She told them. “I cooked your favorite.” She told them as they smiled at her.

“Thank you.” They told her as they approached her, their hands wrapping around her waist. “For waiting for me and making me the happiest person alive.”

“I love you Y/N.” She told them sincerely as she looked in their eyes. “I will always love you until my dying days, and even in the afterlife, I will love you.” They captured her lips in a gentle kiss before she pushed them away, a teasing smirk on her face. “Go and shower, I’ll keep the dinner warm.”

“I love you Wanda Maximoff.” They told her. “You have always been the light of my life.” She blushed as they ascended the stairs to their shared bedroom, the walls were lined with pictures, from the memories they had made together, some from before they left for college, and more from when they had come back into her life. The moments they had shared together which made their hearts glow as one, even brighter the moment they brought the twins into the world, making their family complete.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi there!! I absolutely adore your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a little something about Jamie being your guest to a wedding?? Just something sweet and fluffy because I feel like he’d be a spectacular wedding date. Love you!!

Here you go! Haven’t been able to write as much this week, I had finals and in between tests and papers, I’ve been pretty much living at the doctor’s. My brain is feeling a little fried, so I hope this is a coherent fic because I’ve tried to proofread a bunch and it all just looks like squiggles to me, so… anon, if you read this, send me your honest feedback in my inbox. Love ya!🍊💚

i’m glad you exist

“What’s this?” Jamie asks from his position on your kitchen island. 

You glance up from the stove. “What’s what?” 

He holds up an envelope rimmed in gold. 

“Oh, that’s an invite to my old roommate’s wedding. Remember I told you about her? Calls everyone ‘queen?’”

Jamie’s face shows recognition. “Right, yeah, she the one dating that motivational speaker?”

You laugh. “Yeah, they got together a month after I met her. He lived one floor down. Anyway, their wedding’s in a few months so I left the invitation out so I’d remember to RSVP.”

Jamie’s engrossed in the details on the invitation. “Says you can bring a plus one.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “probably won’t though. It’s back home, so, it’s not just a weekend-type deal. My mom and dad want me to come stay for like a week and a half.” You turn back to the stove and narrowly avoid burning the food. “You like your dinner a little crispy, right?”

“Babe,” Jamie says slowly, “you stayin’ with your parents?”

“Nah,” you say, transferring the food onto plates, “too crowded. And loud. My mom always has all the grandkids over all the time.” Your older sister has two kids, and your older brother has three. “She offered, but I told her I’d just get an AirBnB or something.”

“Y’know,” he says, taking the plates and moving to the table, “it’s on the off season. Don’t have any branding deals that week either.”

“Jamie,” you begin, a smile beginning to spread across your face, “are you offering to go to this wedding with me? And meet my parents?”

Jamie shrugs nonchalantly. 

“You are!” you say gleefully, “Oh my god, my mom is going to lose her mind. You know she absolutely loves you, right? She talks about their trip out here all the time. And this time you can meet my whole family, like my sister and her husband, they’re definitely my favorite because my niece and I have the same middle name. Plus my brother is always busy with work and his wife is cool, I guess, but we don’t have a lot in common? Except one time we watched High School Musical together, and she knew all the dances and all the words! It was crazy. And we’ll definitely have to go to the beach, do you know how to surf-?”

You ramble on happily as Jamie just grins at you, digging into his food. 

—

It’s wedding week, and your dad picks you up from the airport. You and Jamie are on your way to your parents’ house before checking into your own house and you’re confident that most of your family is going to be there. Your parents are the only ones who have met Jamie in person, and right now your dad and Jamie are in the front of the car chatting on about who knows what. You just know you’re tired, and you’re grateful that your dad picked you up a coffee. You’re probably going to steal Jamie’s too, because he does not need more energy and yours is gone way too quick. It’s nice to be home. The sun is shining, and the streets are familiar. You’re looking forward to seeing your old friends, and showing off your gorgeous footballer boyfriend.

They’d all heard about him of course, and were more than thrilled that you had finally found someone who actually liked being around you. That sounds terrible. You’re not annoying. You just have a habit of being with men who see you as a chore, not for the wonderful person you are. The person Jamie sees you to be.

You’re pulling into the driveway, and just as you suspected, the entire family is there. You notice your brother’s Range Rover and your sister’s Jeep. You smile to yourself. How very like them.

You hop out of the car, grab Jamie’s hand, and the door is open before you even make it all the way up to it. Your mom’s arms are open for a hug which you reach for except she turns away at the last moment and hugs Jamie first?

“Mom!” you say, laughing, “I’m your literal daughter and I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She smiles and pinches Jamie’s cheek. “I’ve spent more time with you than with him. You’ll survive.”

She wraps you in a warm hug then says, “Come meet the family, Jamie! And you’re staying for dinner. You can get to your house after you’ve taken a break.”

You shake your head and Jamie just grins. Poor boy has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

—

Jamie was thoroughly interrogated by your family, including your nieces and nephews (“Why do you call it football instead of soccer? Did you bring us candy?”). You’re both so exhausted that as soon as you walk through the door of your AirBnB, you collapse onto the bed, fully clothed.

—

It’s the day of the wedding, and you’re stressed. You’d been fine until the exact moment that you and Jamie began walking up to the venue. Everything is fine, you’re walking hand-in-hand, but then you just stop. 

“Jamie,” you say, tugging on his hand, “Jamie I can’t do this.”

He turns to you in surprise. “What d’you mean you can’t do this?” 

“I mean, it’s a lot of people I haven’t seen in forever and I don’t know, I’m just freaking out.”

Jamie laughs of all things. “Babe, it’s all right. Look, you’re with me, yeah? And I’m fucking amazin’. And you’re fucking amazin’. So whatever you’re worried about, ain’t a problem.”

Sometimes you forget how cocky Jamie can be. And how much it can boost your confidence. 

You blow out a breath. “Thanks babe. You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

—

It was more than fine. Like, way more than fine. Your friend looked lovely, and she was overjoyed to see you, and Jamie was the absolute best. He befriended your entire table and insisted you dance with him for every song. He was weirdly good at it, too. 

“It’s all in the hips, babe,” he said.

It definitely was.

Your favorite part, though, is the last dance. 

It’s a slow song, and the only people left were couples. The bride and groom had left, sneaked out a back door because she hated send-offs, so everything was winding down. 

Jamie has your hands in his, and brings them to loop around his neck.

“You alright?” he whispers. You nod. “Good,” he says, voice still low. “Wanted to make sure you had a good time. I fucking love weddings. The dancing, the food… you.” He grins and you smile back. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Not sure I mentioned it earlier.”

You’re blushing now, swaying to the music as his hands circle your waist.

You say, “Thanks for coming with me, Jaim. I don’t think I would’ve had as much fun without you.”

Your hands are on the sides of his face now, thumbs tracing his cheekbones.

You lean up to kiss him and right before you do he whispers, “Gonna be us someday, yeah?”

You forget how to breathe for a moment, opting to nod instead.

Jamie smiles, and leans down to finish what you started.