#AND THANK YOU ANON THIS WAS SWEET

[baby-yongbok]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do fake texts of “skz when they find out from another ember you like them” have an amazing day and thankyou for all your work❤️

❤️ SKZ!Fake Texts - Finding out that you have a crush on them from someone else❤️

Genre: Fluff with some spice

✨️Masterlist✨️

Warnings: Seungmin's texts are suggestive for just a split second, Playful mentions of wanting to unalive yourself, playful mention of planning to unalive or fight the members, Jisung is cringe asf

Chan

Lee Know/ Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Han Jisung

Felix

Seungmin

I.N/ Jeongin

[tubbytarchia]

jimmy stream watcher here i havent watched most of this stream but he did run into glass. like a bird

amazing. I'm so proud of him

[macfrog]

Just me up at 2am wondering how many times Joel replays that wedding hotel room night in his head 🤔

warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy, m masturbation, desperately horny joel word count: ~600 words

i think he thinks about that entire night and wonders what the fuck even happened there. the way the world tilted ever so slightly the moment he pulled open his front door and saw her on his porch – sunlight twinkling from her earrings, satin draped over her breasts in pale waves; the shameless flirting under the cover of rosé wine and beer, string bulbs and rainbow disco lights.

i mean, one minute he’s waving his newspaper at her like a grumpy old man, counting down the seconds until she’s skipping back over to her own fucking porch – the next he’s caging her against the bed in her hotel room, thinking if he doesn’t fuck her here n now, he might tear the entire place apart.

between the wedding and three weeks later? yeah, he might think about it – just a little.

might think about her dress, the shape of her body beneath it. the way it fell from her hips – just slipped down over her curves and pooled at her feet like venus emerging from the ocean. might think about her naked body: how, until that night, he’d only ever wondered about it – stealing sideways glances over the fence at her little shorts and tight vest tops. but now…now, he knows what she looks like. he’s seen her undress for him.

and i bet he thinks about her soft gasp when he first pushed inside, after she finally caught her breath again; feeling the size of him inside her, how he knew she didn’t expect him to be so big and so fucking hard for her. how much he had to focus on not coming within five thrusts, she was so fucking tight.

bet he thinks about it in the shower, one hand against the tiled wall, the other jacking himself furiously. mouthing the words he whispered in her ear as their bodies rocked together: how good she is for him, how pretty she looks all full of his cock. bet he still hears the echo of her moans, the sweet little laughs lilting from her lips.

and when he finds out she’s pregnant? shit.

when he’s watching the evidence of what they did grow right before his eyes? her body blooming: stomach swelling, breasts growing, her cheeks plumping and her skin glowing? knows that he’s the one who changed her forever? knows that it’s his baby she’s growing?

sure. he probably thinks about that part a normal amount, too.

and i bet he thinks about how he shouldn’t be thinking about it. about her.

not when he’s sure she wouldn’t look at him ever again, if not for their parallel driveways and the parallel lines on that pregnancy test. not when he’s trying to act his fucking age, date someone actually appropriate for a forty-eight-year-old with backache and still two decades off retirement.

but it makes it worse – the fact he shouldn’t be doing it. shouldn’t be relieving the heavy weight between his legs in the morning with the memory of her lips closing around his fingers, playing on a reel behind his eyelids.

shouldn’t be staring into space while he’s driving, hearing her giggles once they’d finished; feeling her nails as she drew shapes on his sweat-sticky chest. shouldn’t be thinking about her wandering around with his baby inside of her; her body growing ‘n changing all ‘cause of what they did together.

he shouldn’t be. he shouldn’t he shouldn’t he shouldn’t but jesus, he is. you fucking know he is.

dear reader, joel has absolutely wrecked the tape, the number of times he’s replayed that night. the vhs player is smoking.

[uhohdad]

Hi hi ❤️

Would you please write some incel loser Köni x AFAB Reader with cnc and gunplay? Something where the reader asks König to stalk them home and forces them to the bed.

Ty ty ❤️

♡ (18+) König x Reader - CNC & Gunplay ♡

What a silly game you want to play. He actually gives a raspy two-note laugh at the suggestion, but the contemplative hum that follows sparks hope.

It’s those pleading, wide eyes and the soft hand that nervously fidgets at your side that makes him fold. He’s always had a hard time saying no to you, little one.

You’re unable to stave off the shake in your fingers, tapping on the bar’s tabletop and swiveling on your stool to soothe your racing thoughts. You ignore the stare burning into the side of your face from across to room, pretending not to notice the commanding presence begging for your attention. The drink helps, and from giddiness alone you can’t help all but inhaling it.

You’re quick to pay, both your nice shoes and legs made of gelatin putting a wobble in your strides when you exit the bar. Staring at the lockscreen of your phone in a failed attempt to distract from both your nerves and the urge to look over your shoulder.

The key tings against the lock as trembling hands fumble the simple task of opening the door. You can’t hear him, no, either the quickened pulse in your ears or the experience from his job stacking the cards in his favor - but you can feel his presence behind you. A searing stare you can’t see, but brings the hairs on the back of your neck on end regardless.

Your breaths have turned shallow, escaping parted lips as the door creeps open to a dark, lifeless home. You don’t even have time to turn the lights on before you’re snatched by a pair of strong arms and forced inside, the sudden restraint robbing you of breath.

“Sh, sh, sh,” He coos, low and spine-tingling. A calloused palm swallows half your face, muffling your squeaks and objections. The sole of his boot closes the door behind him with a click, keeping you firmly pinned to the space under his chest with a forearm snug across your collarbones.

Flailing limbs still in compliance when the muzzle of his gun presses to your temple, applying just enough pressure for it to be uncomfortable.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, the low vibration of his words reverbing in your ribcage.

Your hands cling to his forearm, knuckles white as you claw at his sleeves, a breathy, nervous laugh escaping the tight spaces between his fingers.

“Run or scream, and you’re finished, ja?”

His hand follows your desperate nod.

“Very good.”

His soothing praises are lined with cutting condescension.

He leans down to press the side of his face to yours, the stubble of his jaw scratching against your soft flesh. His words are just a deep, eerie hum in your ear, the heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

“If you keep it up, you might just make it out of this alive.”

Your eyes lull and your lower abdomen floods with a sickeningly sweet warmth in response to his dangerous words.

Your feet stutter for balance when he gives you a firm shove forward, releasing you from your restraint. A helpless little lamb you are, fully blown eyes darting between the gun in his hands and his half-lidded eyes, devoid of empathy as you tremble beneath his superior stature.

He offers a pleased hum, those darkened eyes crinkling as he gives the gun a shake.

“Go on, little one. Show me to your bed.”

The nervous swallow you make is visible, your hands smoothing out your shirt as you make your unsteady legs follow orders.

You’re not going fast enough for his liking, though, his strong hands giving you another shove with enough force to nearly make you trip. He laughs as he watches you struggle to your feet, his demeaning hands and tongue staining your cheeks with heat.

Sweaty hands are clenched into fists at your sides as you step into your bedroom. Before you can even turn to face him, his greedy hands are around your waist, effortlessly manhandling you onto the bed, ignoring your gasps and your instinctual, futile swipes at his arms.

You freeze when he presses the muzzle of his gun to the center of your forehead, the black steel and the hand wrapped around it just a blur in your near sight. The bed shifts under his weight as he positions himself between your thighs, keeping you obediently pinned in place with the threat of his trigger finger. An electric, addicting jolt shoots down your spine, finishing with a flourish of warmth that pools beneath your stomach.

“Going out all by yourself, dressed like a hure, hm?”

Your shallow, nervous breaths are music to his ears, the perfect accompaniment to his steady grinds across your front as he looms overtop you, his degradations spoken in with a silken tongue.

He leans in slowly, relishing in your pathetic whimpers before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your cheek. He keeps his voice in your ear, his deep and soothingly spoken words knotting your insides.

“You were asking for it, little one.”

You shudder beneath him, each breath of air forcing your chest to graze against his. He grunts, low and sinful to pair with a drawn-out grind against you.

When he sits back, he keeps the aching cock in his pants pressed to your front, the gun dragging agonizingly slow across your face. Grazing across the ridge of your nose, catching on your bottom lip and pulling it down, a pleased hum from deep in his chest when it springs back into place.

He carefully watches your eyes, dilated and sprung with thrill, heaving nervous breaths as the gun glides down the curve of your chin, your neck, your collarbones. He’s applying enough pressure for it to be uncomfortable, making sure his threat is impossible to ignore. Keeping your fear right at the forefront, never letting you forget who’s in control. Each breath you take doesn’t stay in your lungs for long, shallow, weighted breaths that escape parted lips.

You flinch, a gasp leaving you when a brute hand tears through your top, shredding the fabric with an audible rip as he exposes your chest to the air. The cool steel pulls goosebumps to the surface when it brushes against your breasts, nudging the torn fabric to the side to get a good look at you.

His eyes flare for a moment before narrowing, ravaging the sight of your chest stuttering with your broken breaths.

Konig’s hardened hand palms over your breast, roughly kneeding the flesh with his rugged fingers, ignoring your wince and the inhale sucked in through clenched teeth. His low, sinful laugh bleeds into a groan as he finishes out another slow grind between your thighs.

“Can you feel it?” He purrs, “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

Your stare follows the gun as it drags over your chest agonizingly slow, those icy blue eyes meeting yours.

“You’re going to take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

A swallow catches in your throat and leaves you in the form of a squeak.

The click of the safety echoes dangerously throughout your bedroom, the rapid beat of your heart skipping.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes- yes!” Your voice coveys nothing but fear and desperation, jumping to appease him with a frantic nod.

His lips stretch into a wicked, smug grin before he’s tearing the rest of your clothes off, jerking your body around with brute force to free them from your limbs, taking pleasure in your cute little gasps.

Fully exposed, spread open around his thighs - he licks his lips when he catches the sheen of arousal coating your cunt.

A deep, dangerous hum leaves him, a gut-churning smile spreading on his face. The feeling of the cool steel tracing down your slit has you whining, your muscles tensing around him. Strong, sturdy tights refuse to let you shut your legs as he glides the gun back and forth, grazing over your clit and making you squirm.

You whine when he pulls away, shrinking in on yourself as he brings his gun to your face, tilting it carefully to show you the slick arousal coating the barrel.

“You see? So wet. You wanted this, little one.”

A squeak catches in your throat, stunned by his brazen words and entirely pliant when he presses the gun to your parted lips.

“Clean your mess.”

You give the faintest shaky nod, pretty blown eyes staring up at him as your hesitant tongue swipes beneath the muzzle.

König’s lips pull back when he laughs, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your tongue polish his threat. He can practically hear the heart fluttering in your chest between your meek sighs.

“Don’t be shy,” He purrs, gently swirling his wrist to goad the gun further into your mouth.

His demands are spoken so gently, an eerie, sharp contrast to the gun he jams between your spit-stained lips, ignoring your muffled whines as you clean your arousal from his gun. He forces the bitter taste of metal deeper into your mouth until it’s uncomfortable, wedging your jaw open and teasing your gag reflex with each slide back and forth over your tongue. He snickers at your stifled, unintelligible objections until he’s satisfied, granting relief when he pulls the barrel from your mouth. Your spit cools on your flesh as he rests his trigger hand on your sternum, working himself free from his pants with his free hand.

The aching, thick cock that springs free from his waistband is just as threatening as the heavy gun resting on your chest.

He wastes no time to swipe his tip along your cunt, eagerly swirling around in the generous pool of arousal between your legs. He lets out a groan that bleeds into a condescending laugh.

“Listen to how wet you are for me.”

Another whine leaves you, not bothering to stop yourself from rutting your cunt into his teasing touches. He gives a few gentle but firm smacks to your clit with the tip of his swollen cock before he traces down your slit, circling the entrance of your dripping cunt.

His fingers tighten around the gun, its metal scraping along the soft flesh of your core as he forces his thick cock into you.

“So fucking tight, hure.”

His words are just a growl, paired with a particularly brutal thrust as he bullies his cock into you, his head thrown back with a low groan. Each pump into your drooling cunt splits you open a little more, stretching you out inch by inch.

He grabs the back of your thigh, forcing your leg into the air and folding you at the core, pushing himself deeper while you claw at the sheets. A wince pinches your face as you struggle to adjust to his size, teeth clenched in both pleasure and pain from his ruthless cock and his abusive pace.

“You like that?” He grits, “You like it when a man takes what he wants?”

When you sputter, unable to focus on anything but the cock ravaging your cunt, he presses his gun in the center of your forehead.

“Yes!” You cry, the choppy words escaping your jostled body, forced further up the bed with each slam of his hips against the back of your soaked thighs, “Yes!”

A pleased hum is stitched into his groan, the sound of him lubing himself up with your slick filling the gaps between his grunts and degradations.

“I’m going to ruin you,” He breathes, “Stretch you out until you’re useless to anyone else, ja?”

He puts more pressure on the gun until the muzzle is sure to leave a ring-shaped indent on your forehead, hitching your breath with each of his pounds into you.

“I own your cunt, little one. It’s all mine, ja?”

With clenched eyes you nod under his aim, unable to stifle the pathetic, whiny moans he forces with each bottom out into your cunt. Filling you to the brim and then some, his grip on your thigh tightening in possession, practically folding you in half while he robs your cunt of its delicate sensitivity.

“Take it, hure, take this fat cock.”

His growled words tighten your core, a steady heat bubbling in your lower abdomen. Powerful thrusts fuck you cross-eyed and degradingly bounce your body until his domineering figure is just a blur.

“Such a good girl.”

He’s seemed to have fucked the thoughts from your brain, gone limp beneath him, entirely succumb to his powerful, merciless cock, a squeaky moan coerced from you with each of his brutal thrusts.

“Going to fill you up, hure.”

König’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, a sinful grunt behind his lips, disciplined pace wavering. His eyes lull behind his eyelids, strong muscles tightening. With a broken moan he buries his pent-up finish inside you, cock pulsing against your walls with each beat of his heart while he rides out the waves of his pleasure. He gives two final shaky thrusts, stuffing his cum deeper into your cunt with a guttural, strained moan.

His cock stays buried inside of your cum-filled cunt as his pleasure-drunken eyes watch the gun soothingly trace down your middle, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans down slowly, muscles still twitching with the aftershocks of finish, and plants a gentle kiss on the center of your forehead.

“All mine, little one.” ♡

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

dividers @/enchanthings

[jesuistrestriste]

bestie okay hear me out. priest mike but like you're the one in control. STAY WITH ME!! like you go to church and flirt with him like crazy, wearing skimpy outfits making him dizzy in the head which eventually leads him to cave into his desires that he holds so dearly, basically begging for for your attention and your touch. idk but the thought of like "corrupting" (idk if that's the right word for it) him in such a filthy slutty way, man in thinking thoughts...(absolutely love your writing btw you're so talented fr!!)

(AHH?? anon?? woah, woah woah. im drooling. im definitely listening.)

i can imagine the reader going to the church in a short jean skirt that just barely covers her ass. and she knows people will judge her, but she doesn't care because all she needs is his attention.

the priest is up on the stage, giving a sermon, staring right at her, and all the reader does is maintain eye contact while she uncrosses her legs and holy shit she's not wearing panties.

he's sweating and burning up and almost stuttering in front of everyone as he pulls on the collar of his dress shirt and tries not to look at her, but he really can't tear his eyes away for more than a few seconds. mind you, he's popping a boner behind the pulpit. thank god for that fuckin' pulpit, pun not intended (sorry, god).

once the service is done, and everyone has flooded out, he quickly walks down to the reader in the pews and immediately gets down on his knees in front of her; his eyes all big and blue with pupils completely blown.

"what are you trying to do to me?" he whispers, desperation and anticipation and embarrassment wavering in his voice as his hands run up over the soft skin of her thighs.

and the reader just smirks, spreads her legs, and urges his face into her heat. "Shhhh," she hums softly, watching him look up to her as his lips and tongue make contain with her slick cunt, "be good for me.. we can ask god for forgiveness after you make me cum..."

and wow, he doesn't resist at all. he laps at her core until shes spilling and spasming in her seat, her leg draped over his shoulder as the broken AC in the church only exacerbates his guilty sweating.

should he stop? yeah. but he can't. and he won't. he wouldn't in a million years. not even if hell itself opened up beneath the floorboards of the holy building they're in and threatened to swallow him up if he didn't stop eating her pussy.

if heaven's doors opened up above right then, a golden staircase beckoning him in, he'd still choose her pretty folds + her hole over any sort of everlasting paradise.

after all, weren't heaven and her the same things?

----

ive honestly been thinking about writing a pt 2 to "kneel" where the reader takes a bit of control? like a tiny bit? i just don't think that the priest!mike faist character i've built up in that fic would necessarily enjoy her doing that LMFAO.

he'd be like "hm. ok. ill do it for u". but when she starts to coo at him or deny him release he's suddenly like >:( this isn't fun anymore.

---

but no, im seriously all about corruption. i think it's insanely hot. so i raise u one more: priest's son!mike...? priest's son!art donaldson..?

mmph

[canisalbus]

As I sit here tending to a nosebleed I think about how that was the first picture I saw of your characters. His open, almost casual self loathing resonated with me. So much of people with "gross" physical traits seeking love is explored only in metaphor, but here is art that shows it without shame.

Your dogs make me feel like a real human being. Thank you.

.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part eleven

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 11.4k

Early Tuesday morning, you opened the door to Alexia who–to your surprise, but not really–had on a pair of training shorts, a plain jersey under an unzipped hoodie, a New Era cap on, her hair left down while a pair of sunglasses completed her look. And just like the other time she came to visit, she had you in her arms the moment she was close enough, pulling you into her for a kiss on your temple and then your lips.

“Hello, you.” You said as you pecked her cheek, smelling the familiar sharpness of sunscreen on her skin. Then you held her at arm’s length so you could look at her better before you asked, “Did you just come from training? I thought you won’t be back until Saturday?” 

Alexia chuckled, clearly amused, raising her brows at you for your shameless display at checking her out. But who could blame you, really, with her looking so damn good in a training jersey. She replied, “No, I’m actually–”

She halted, tilting her head to the side to look over you, and then she switched to English when she spoke again, taking her sunglasses off to place them on top of her cap as she grinned, “Hola, chiquita, you ready?”

When you looked over your shoulder you saw Elisa framed by the archway and the open door that led to the backfield, standing in her favourite Alexia jersey and Barça shorts, cheeks tinted red while her forehead shone with sweat, a football between her hands. 

“Hi, Alexia!” Elisa’s hand fluttered in an eager wave, her grin a brilliant beam, before she began to take off her sneakers and zoomed right up the stairs, shouting over her shoulders. “I’m ready! Lemme just grab my stuff!” 

Ah, now it made sense. 

You wondered why Elisa couldn’t sit still last night and even during the day, she practically buzzed with excitement. Initially, you associated the surge in energy from the promise of another day spent with Alexia, but now you understood that whatever the two of them had planned involved football and that was the reason why Elisa’s enthusiasm for today had increased twofold. 

As if Alexia was your mirror, you found her reflecting your expression when you turned back to her; she had an appraising gaze fixed on Elisa accompanied by an amused smile, and your heart filled with the urge to kiss her so you did. You kept your arms loose around her neck when you parted so you could look into those eyes you found yourself missing every minute that you were apart.

“When did you guys plan this?” You asked as you toyed with the ends of her hair.

“When we were at the Barça store. Elisa asked me for some tips and I offered to train her for the day.” Alexia hummed, fiddling with the hoops of your jeans. Then the inner corners of her brows quirked up, bashful when she asked, “I hope that’s okay?” 

Touched by her thoughtfulness, you traced the line of her brow as you spoke, “More than okay as long as it’s alright with you. And I should be thanking you.”

“It is, don’t worry. I get to spend time with the both of you and play football at the same time. Win-win.” Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone and flashed you a radiant half-smile, and it made your chest and cheeks warm, obviously charmed by her, and the lightness in her eyes made those words all the more earnest to you. So you cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw in gratitude. 

Then you whispered, “Thank you.”

Alexia pulled up at a deserted football pitch, the morning still early enough that the dew had not entirely dissipated from the grass when you got out of the car. The sound of the doors closing echoed from the emptiness of the space, Alexia’s call over the roof of the car sounding louder than it actually was. 

“Chiquita, I’m gonna need your help unloading the equipment at the back.”

Elisa stuck a thumbs up into the air as an answer. 

As you made up your mind that you’d just watch them do their thing, you tinkered with your camera around your neck, following them to the trunk but after Alexia popped it open, the sight both surprised and amused you. When Alexia said equipment, you’d envisioned a bag of balls, several cones, and the like but what you hadn’t considered–when in fact you really should’ve–was Alexia’s disposition for coming prepared, the scene in front of you a testament against your blatant underestimation of her ability. You watched them haul bags upon bags from the trunk–ranging from pop-up goals, agility poles and ladders, rebound boards, and other football paraphernalia–and as you spied the growing pile of things by the side of the car, you snapped a photo before laughter escaped your lips.

Two pairs of eyes darted your way with equal confusion, stopping their busy hands for a moment. You pointed at the pile, “Do you always keep these back here?”

“Why, of course, darling. All the time.” Despite the dryness of her tone, the term of endearment set your cheeks aflame. Then Alexia raised her brows at Elisa, “Elisa, could you please tell your mom to stop being mean and help us?”

“Yeah, Mom, stop laughing at us and come help, please.” Elisa giggled, gladly playing along before she eventually returned back to her task.

You scoffed with no real sting to it, grabbing the water bottle rack and slinging a bag over your shoulder as you whined, “I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.”

At that, Alexia only scrunched her nose at you, smiling, before she closed the trunk–all the equipment were out finally!–then the three of you began lugging everything to the empty field, happy to follow their lead. After setting down the things you took where Alexia and Elisa were, you went to the sidelines, unfolding the chairs Alexia brought along. When you turned back to the scene, Elisa was already doing some stretches–as per Alexia’s instructions probably–while Alexia set up and, once done, she joined Elisa to warm up as well. But before she started, she waved you over as she called out, “Come join us!”

The desire to join them wasn’t lost to you but so was the weight of your omission to Alexia about what happened while you were gone–what would you say when you pass out from exertion if you joined them?–so you gave her a dismissive wave, lifting your camera as an excuse. Relief filled you when, with a shrug of her shoulders as if to say it was your loss, Alexia patted Elisa’s back before she pointed to the opposite goal line, taking off in a jog right after, their strides in time with each other. You put your camera over your eye and took a photo of them, but even though you busied your hands with the lever and buttons of your camera, your mind remained occupied with another matter.

The past few days were spent in a state of bliss; the ease by which you and Alexia had slipped back into each other’s lives was more than a surprise to you, pleasant in its own right but it was beginning to dim the longer you kept your story to yourself. It wasn’t a deliberate omission. You just hadn’t found the right time to breach the topic because, after all, how could one easily part with such a fact to a lover when even you dare not step to that precipice and stare into that void? But you knew you at least owe Alexia that much; to enlighten her about what she was truly signing up for. 

Today. 

You promised yourself you were going to talk to her about it today.

Returning back to yourself, you regarded the scene before you, took photos, and shouted encouragement every now and then. It continued on for a couple more hours: Alexia, who had occupied the role of the trainer, stood a vigilant watch over her novitiate, guiding Elisa with instructions you couldn’t quite hear but the complementing gestures she made gave you a semblance of what they were, as she exclaimed and clapped her hands to compliment and motivate; and Elisa followed with apt diligence, serious and attentive to every line, every move. By the time their feet had stopped disturbing the grass, the sun neared its highest peak, its warmth and the promise of a good day had already invited more than a handful of people to occupy other parts of the field. 

After they’d finished cooling down, you watched Elisa run off to the restrooms while Alexia trudged her way over to you, bags of equipment on her which she deposited on another growing pile on the sideline, taking a water bottle in hand. She brushed her hand over the nape of your neck for a second before she dropped to the chair next to you with an audible huff, and you patted her knee in response to her apparent exhaustion while she drank from her bottle, just a little out of breath. 

“Damn. Sorry, I forgot to bring the umbrella.” Alexia said as she shielded her eyes to look at you, one eye squinted from the harsh light. She softly grazed a knuckle over your cheek, “Did you put sunblock on?”

You replied in the affirmative as you leaned into her touch, and Alexia nodded in approval before she took her hand away, taking another sip of water. In the silence that followed, you thought, ‘Should I tell her now?’

“Alexia, I–”

Alexia’s lips crinkled around a mouthful of water, raising her brows at you before she jutted her chin forward. Confused, you looked to where she indicated and found Elisa surrounded by a group of kids, some of them taller and looked to be slightly older, who now occupied the once empty space that Elisa and Alexia had just been training on and in a blink of an eye, a small game of football had commenced. Shouts and laughter filled the air as they continued, passing, tackling, shooting; Elisa flew untethered along with her peers, face free from any worries and filled with glee. 

The two of you were a fair distance away from the youngsters that they hadn’t noticed nor recognised that Alexia watched over them with a proud–if not a bit sombre–countenance for the sight, probably, to her, was a validation–proof–of how far women had cemented their place in football compared to when she was of their age. These kids, boys and girls alike, now had their own paragons of light to follow, the names and numbers of their guiding stars shining bold on their backs–the names of women… Alexia’s including. You regarded the woman next to you, chest welling up at the soft gaze you saw there aimed towards the children, a thought clear in your mind that you longed to speak, ‘This is the fruit of your labour, what you and the others had fought–and still fighting–for.’

Alexia’s eyes flitted to meet yours as if magnetised by your volition, the colour of them almost green against the backdrop of the field.

“If Elisa was given the chance to play for Barçelona’s youth team, what would you do?”

You blinked as the question caught you off guard. There was no doubt what you would do but the abruptness by which it was brought up made you squint your eyes at her. Why would she bring that up unless she knew something? Unless she was about to do or already had done something? But as you regarded her with a careful eye, you found nothing in her features that betrayed answers to your questions, her face a blank canvas–perhaps a bit too neutral.

“Alexia, did you do something?”

Alexia shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down for good measure before it settled to a smile, then she answered in the negative, “Nothing. It was a question. Purely hypothetical.” 

Her answer did little to convince you but you answered in truth anyway. “Move here, of course.” 

At that, Alexia only hummed but a light twinkled in her eye–one not dissimilar to the one you found in them the night you met–a light that told you she knew something you didn’t. She brushed her thumb over her chin before she tore her gaze away, focusing her attention back to the match in front of her. And before you could question her further, excited screams filled the air and, when Alexia stood right after, you knew she’d been found.

You stood aside as the kids flocked towards Alexia and you captured the scene with a smile while Alexia conversed with the kids, bumping their fists and posing with them when they asked for a photo. You felt a presence beside you and, upon turning your head, saw Elisa with a look of admiration on her face, a mirrored expression among the children there. It went on for a bit and another game of football commenced but now with Alexia in the mix, but half an hour later, you were all packed up with everything back in Alexia’s trunk, and the three of you were off. 

On the way back after lunch, Elisa and Alexia chatted, discussing things about football with equal enthusiasm. The sound of their amusement filled the car, and with the day ending on such a high note, you felt compelled not to say anything about what you planned to tell Alexia as you didn’t have the heart to bring it down. 

And as you laughed at one of Alexia’s dry jokes, you resigned your promise.

Tomorrow. 

You would talk to her about it tomorrow. 

Unlike the day before, Alexia came by early–early enough that Elisa was still asleep while you, yourself, only woke up just about half an hour ago–but that was no surprise. It was rare for Alexia to sleep in; the rigorous conditioning her body had borne throughout the years made her circadian rhythm almost permanent, something that you’d teased her about from your time before–something that you teased her about just then.

“I don’t hear you complaining about it.” She muttered against your ear and, though you couldn’t see it for she had her front pressed against your back with her hands gentle on your hips as you made two sets of coffee, you could practically hear the pout in her voice. 

“I’m not! It’s actually kinda cute.” You laughed before you added, “You’re cute.”

“I’m really not,” Alexia practically whined, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the feel of her there tickled you, so you tried to angle yourself away but she clung to you as you felt her laugh against your skin.

“Alexia! You’re going to make me spill the coffee!” 

When the both of you finally made it to the couch with no drop of coffee spilt, you tucked in by Alexia’s side, her arm over your shoulder as the both of you revelled in each other’s company, sipping at your beverage, you broached the news to her. 

“Your brother’s coming here?” She asked with surprise and with both brows raised.

At how she posed the question, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I love the way you made it sound like he’s not the one who owns this house. But yes, later today, probably around evening or earlier, depending on when he’ll finish his meeting in Madrid this morning.” 

Alexia blew a puff of air, a bit petulant, as she muttered low–although still deliberately loud enough for you to hear, “It’s kinda easy to forget when he’s never here.”

The both of you broke out laughing. Then a pensive look took over her demeanour, her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair, something that you noticed she did whenever she felt at peace or whenever she was worrying about something. You had a feeling it was the latter with the way her brows were slightly creased in the middle, but the question that left her lips, which was spoken in a soft tongue, confirmed your inkling to be true.

“What’s he like?”

Ah. 

Seeing Alexia unsure about herself was a rare occurrence, even more than seeing her vulnerable which was saying a lot. So you laid a hand on the nape of her neck, chest warming when she leaned back to seek more of your touch, and you ran your thumb over the skin just below her ear to keep her at ease. 

“He’s… my best friend and the best brother I could ever ask for. He’s funny;  likes to tease me a lot, but he’s protective.” At the mention of the word, Alexia’s frown deepened before you could even finish what you wanted to say, “And trust me when I tell you, he’ll definitely like you.”

But your reassurance seemed to have gone out the other ear for the movement of her finger didn’t cease and her eyes remained clouded with something akin to worry. You allowed her another moment more with her thoughts before you booped her nose and watched as her eyes fluttered, the light of her presence returning in them as she regarded you. And so, with light amusement, you said in the hopes that Alexia would finally listen, “Just give him the same attitude you gave me a minute ago, you’ll get along really well.” 

At that, Alexia let out a small chuckle and, as it trailed off, the smile that graced her lips lingered; what you said hadn’t fully expelled the doubt from her eyes but the fact it was lessened made you feel better. 

Alexia sighed after another lapse in silence. “I just want to make a good impression, you know? And thank him.”

“Thank him for what?”

She shifted so her face was angled more to you and held a gentle finger on your chin to keep you looking into her eyes, soft and earnest.

“For intertwining your fate with mine,” she said, each syllable spoken with the gentlest of air.

Your heart stuttered at her confession, the gravity of it heavier with Alexia’s belief in fate, and words eluded you so you could do nothing but take her hand to reveal her palm, and kissed her there.

Then after another brief pause, Alexia asked, “Does he know about us?”

“I think so. I haven’t told him anything directly but I think he’s put two and two together.” You pushed the memory of how your heart monitor betrayed you back from the forefront of your mind, but your cheeks heated up anyway. As you massaged the spot between Alexia’s brows with your thumb in the hopes of soothing her frown away, you added, “Please, don’t worry about it too much. He’s Derek; as long as I’m happy, he’s happy.”

“And are you? Happy?” The vulnerability that you found in her eyes made you ache, not unpleasant, just a sense of fullness that longed to break free. You pressed a kiss on her temple, then to the corner of her lips.

“More than I could ever put into words. You make me so happy, Alexia. You really do.”

Later that day, just around late afternoon after spending most of the day training–you, of course, only a spectator–the three of you found yourselves walking along the beach after a late lunch. It was a bit further on when, as you conversed with each other, an exclamation made you stop and look over your shoulders.

“Oh, my god.”

Standing a few paces behind you was a young man, tall in frame, cheeks still round with traces of his youth, the stubble along his jaw and chin a direct contrast, making it known to you that he’d probably just recently entered his early twenties. The first thing you noted was the camera that dangled from his neck–you recognised the model, vintage–and you barely schooled your features from showing your surprise; he was a photographer not only for leisure but if he was, well, that was one expensive camera for a hobbyist. 

Habit made you step aside–you’d been out in public with Alexia a handful of times now to know how this would go–but as you did, the young man’s eyes followed you, intent, and that confounded you. 

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” His brown eyes flitted between you, Alexia, then Elisa, his small smile apologetic as the paleness of his cheeks turned rosy.

Alexia waved a careless hand in the air as she spoke in English, “No, you’re okay.”

“How can we help you?” You asked, smiling at him politely. 

The man stepped forward as he patted the pouch of his shirt, then he dug his hands into his jean pockets, then you watched him procure a marker, his hands shaking as he handed it to you. 

“I can’t believe it’s you. I wish I had your book with me but I don’t–I, I’m sorry, can I get a photo and your signature?”

You couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on your face even if you had the time to try. Your eyes drifted to Alexia, and the question that was clear in your mind that you knew Alexia could probably read on your face. What was happening?

The action of yourself nodding preceded the intention and you watched, still in a state of confusion, as the man handed his phone over to Alexia so she could take a photo of you both. As you posed and looked at Alexia behind the camera, you found a familiar light in her eyes and from the slight upturn of her brows, you knew Alexia was more than slightly amused at the role reversal. When Alexia began to count down, you smiled at the person taking the photo more than for the image itself, and once done, she handed the lad his phone back.

You signed the back of a used plane ticket–the only paper of decent quality, as per his words, that he could find on his person that could house your signature–and after handing it back to him, you said, smiling, “I’m sorry if I looked more than a little confused. This doesn’t happen often, I only ever get asked for photos at events, and it’s usually the other way around!” 

“No, please, don’t be sorry. I–I just truly admire your photojournalistic work,” he stuttered as he tucked the plane ticket in his shirt pocket. “I read your book about your most recent conflict coverage and that photoset… It chilled me to the bone the first time I saw it. I’m sorry you had to see that in person.”

Images tore their way out from the shadows of your mind, their teeth bare and gnashing: vacant eyes from where souls were ripped away, crooked fingers accusatory, and the stench–

You shut your eyes as a malignant chill crept over you, crawling under your skin that left your muscles weak, and even beneath the Barcelona summer sun, you trembled. And the memories flooded back: Elisa with her mother, the shots, and now the scars on your body burnt anew. You took a deep breath and took careful note of where you were: there was a baby crying a few paces away, a large wave just arrived home to the shore, there was a call of a seagull overhead, someone with coffee walked past you, and… there was the familiar warmth and weight of Alexia’s hand on your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, the man was looking at you with concern and regret while, when you turned your head to the side, Alexia and Elisa were obviously distressed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

You held a hand up before the man could hurt himself. “It’s alright. They come back to me sometimes without being reminded so you don’t need to apologise. And thank you for your concern.”

More than willing to change the topic, you jutted your chin at his camera, “Are you a photojournalist, too?”

“That’s the plan. I’m only working freelance at the moment and I’m not really sure which branch to pursue. I can hear conflict photojournalism calling to me, though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. In his answer, you sensed a ‘but’ so you asked as much.

He casted his eyes down for a moment before he regarded you again, gaze wary. “But… I’m scared I won’t be able to handle seeing those things in person. And I’m scared of being hurt, of being killed. Just like what you saw and what… what happened to you. I don’t know if I could survive it.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see and feel the weight of Alexia’s stare–a burning question that branded you–and you clenched your fist as guilt flooded your veins. Foolish! You should’ve told her yesterday. She deserved more than hearing about it like this. But no matter what was done was done–the moment had passed–and the only thing you could do now was to tell her after this. 

Despite your inner turmoil, you focused on the man, and smiled at him softly for you understood what he was going through, the same place you once stood before you answered the call of that very wind.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a difficult choice to make. The camera cannot shield you from the danger and the violence and, well, death, but it can bear witness, and can show the world what’s happening. You have your whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to jump in just yet. And if you hear that call again a bit later and find yourself ready, then, why not?”

At that, the young man’s demeanour brightened. Then his brows scrunched up, now seemingly worried, his question spoken with a light, enquiring air, “You mentioned in your book that this was the closest you’d ever come to dying, do you think you’ll ever get back into conflict photography?”

With the uncouth way it was posed, the question made you flinch with its directness. You had half a mind to reprimand but you recognised this–the journalistic instinct to question, to uncover, even if certain situations shouldn’t warrant such intrusions–so you let it pass because as was the case for every learned skill, interviewing demanded the same amount of practice to develop. He was young, he still had so much to learn and time, as was the case for everything, would be his teacher. 

A shuffling sound drew your attention to Elisa who was standing close to Alexia, clutching your lover’s hand with both of hers in a firm grip, her wide eyes fixed on you upon hearing what the man said, a sombre question reflected in her eyes, ‘Are you going to leave me, too?’ 

Although the call was very much there–the need to be the echo chamber for those who’d lost their voice still strong in your soul–you found yourself now tethered: to love and responsibility, so you shook your head, more so for Elisa’s sake than the man’s.

“It’s selfish, I know, but I have so much more to lose now. But, as I said, the call will always be there and I can’t control what the future brings, so who knows, really?” You shrugged, smiling at the man.

Satisfied, the man retreated but not before you gave him a business card for you and Derek’s firm; with a little bit of guidance and experience, he had potential to do good–although you did warn him that a spot for him wasn’t guaranteed, but he still accepted it gratefully. Once the man finally left, Elisa approached you, her shirt bunched up at the hem from the firm grip of her fists, eyes wide as she gazed up at you.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

You cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb under a glassy eye–Elisa was upset.“I’m alright, honey. How are you feeling?”

Elisa’s chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek, and when she spoke, her words were whispered in haste. “Are you going to leave? Please, don’t, I don’t want you to get hurt again, I don’t want you to die. I–” 

Oh, Elisa.

Immediately you took her into your arms in the hopes that you could ease her distress and when she clutched at your shirt as her tears soaked through the fabric, your heart began to ache and your eyes burnt as well. 

“I’m not leaving, ladybug. I’m not. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.”

The ride to the house was a silent affair; even the short walk that led up to Alexia’s car was suffused with silence. After getting in the car and putting her seatbelt on Elisa immediately dozed off–from the emotional toll on top of the physical strain she’d endured during the day–and it was relieving. Alexia on the other hand…

Ever since she’d heard the words from Ben–the photojournalist–she completely receded and everything she did, seemed to you, were performed on autopilot; her every movement mechanical, stiff. Her face remained stoic: her brows formed a flat line, the light in her eyes so ineffably dim made it known to you she was somewhere far away; the way that her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles told you which plane Alexia had found herself in–a hellscape. 

It hurt seeing Alexia like this and you felt like you had to say something but you bit your tongue and instead, you placed a gentle hand on her right knee and applied just enough pressure to hopefully pull her back from her thoughts. It seemed to work for when she glanced at you, her mask of passivity cracked with the way her gaze softened, her lips now pressed into a thin line, almost quivering. The moment only lasted seconds but it left a profound mark in your heart, made all the more indelible when Alexia took your hand in hers–even with the heat from Barcelona’s summer evening, you felt her palm cold as ice–and intertwined your fingers in a firm grip while the other remained to steer the car until you reached the house.

By the time you arrived, the last vestiges of the sun tinged the skies in its sombre purple and pink, the tangerine glow from within the house a stark contrast to the growing darkness. When Alexia parked the car, the front door opened and more of that warm light spilled out and a shadow stretched long in its wake, and at the end of it, the familiar, large frame of Derek.

While Elisa immediately jumped out of the car to greet her uncle, Alexia’s hands remained on the wheel despite the lack of engine, now gripping for a different reason, her eyes trained on the imposing figure of your brother. To be fair, who wouldn’t? With the top of his head nearly grazing the doorframe and the width of his shoulders, just by looking at his stature alone, most wouldn’t even consider the words ‘soft’ and ‘sentimental’ to describe him. So the reflection of anxiety in her eyes was not new to you, but this was different because this was Alexia.

You placed a hand over one of hers on the wheel, coaxing her attention by squeezing her hand. “Alexia?”

She looked at you, blinked. Then a strained, “Yeah?”

“You’re going to be fine.”

Alexia looked at Derek again before she whispered through her teeth, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Hey,” you brushed your thumb over her cheek before you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Alexia’s eyes flicked back to you. Then you took her hand, pressed your lips on the back of it. “Alexia, breathe. You can do this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

True to your words, the moment Alexia gathered the courage to walk up the porch, Derek’s face broke into a grin that thawed the ever-present ice in his demeanour, enveloping Alexia in a hug. Despite Alexia’s tall frame, she looked almost like a child next to Derek, needing to crane her neck to look up when it was usually the other way around with you, as they chatted.

Then Derek finally took note of Alexia’s demeanour now that she was past Derek’s defences, and he voiced with concern, “Are you okay, Alexia? You look a bit pale. Do you need to stay over?” 

The reminder almost made Alexia a ghostly apparition by how much more her colour drained out from her. She pressed her lips in a thin line, dug her hands into her short pockets, while the muscles in her back coiled so much that you could see the planes of her muscles through her jersey. She replied tersely, “I’m alright and no, I’d rather not disturb you.” 

At what she said, you knew what you needed to do. You went to Derek and said in a voice enough for only him to hear.

“Derek, could you help Elisa start packing her things? I need to do something.”

“Okay.” A question was clear in his eyes but like the many times he did before, he didn’t press you for any information, only nodded, squeezed your shoulder, before he went back inside but not before he enveloped Alexia in a farewell hug and told her to get some rest. Then you walked back to where Alexia stood, still as tense as you left her, and you pulled at her arm gently, coaxing her towards her car–to the passenger seat.

“Alexia, give me your keys.”

Alexia looked at you, still pale but her eyes now held confusion, and maybe a hint of defiance, in them. “Why?”

“I’m not about to let you drive home by yourself like this.”

“No. I’m well capable of–”

You fixed her with a stern eye. “Give me your keys. Now.” 

Alexia regarded you with a wary eye but she sighed, finally relenting, and dropped her keys in your open palm. She sat in the passenger seat, an elbow up against the window and chin propped up on her knuckles, quiet apart from the occasional direction to the way to her apartment. The silence was heavy, but you found yourself not entirely too bothered by it for it gave you a chance to gather your own thoughts–to try and find the words to explain–but you couldn’t help but take furtive glances at Alexia, who was looking more and more dejected by the minute as the streetlights casted shadows on her face and made her demeanour excessively morose, the sheen in her eyes prominent in darkness. 

You arrived and Alexia let you in, dropping her keys in a little dish on a cabinet by the door, the air still and silent apart from the clink of metal against porcelain and the soft breath of clothes rustling as the two of you padded into Alexia’s apartment. Briefly, you allowed your eyes to explore the space but as you entered the living room, your palms began to sweat as the nerves began to set in. 

Alexia was hiding behind her stoicism again, sitting on the couch seeming as calm as ever, fixing you with a look that betrayed the placidness of her demeanour. You sat too, opting for the space by Alexia’s side as opposed to the lone loveseat as you knew that the nature of what you were about to reveal required the lost distance between your bodies; for her sake and yours.

For a long moment, you couldn’t speak; you opened your mouth a number of times but you stopped short for fear that the words would fail you. Alexia waited patiently and only when she took your hand in the space between hers did you find the courage to begin, placing your other hand over hers; she was with you, you were with her.

And so, you told her.

From the night you left, when you were about to tell her what you were going to get yourself into, to your arrival and the conflict you needed to cover. About being caught in the middle of fire, about the nature by which you met Elisa. And then, finally, you told her about what happened to you: the shots, the hospital, and your recovery. You watched, as this enfolded, the way Alexia became increasingly tense, she’d taken your hand in a grip at one point, and you felt the warmth in her hand dissipate into cold sweat, could feel the way she trembled. By the end of it, Alexia looked paler than you’d ever seen her before, wide eyes red and glassy; fragile in all sense of the word.

The silence that followed was like a fog, heavy and suffocating, and the words that bounced against the walls made the fog even thicker that your chest began to ache.

“When were you planning to tell me?” Came the even question.

“Yesterday, but I changed my mind. I should’ve just told you.” 

Another pause, her demeanour remained the same. And then, “How bad was it?”

You considered lying; considered telling her that it wasn’t that bad to appease her, to protect her from that knowledge but there was a plea that shone in her eyes that stopped you. So, with a shaky breath, you whispered, “I… they said that my heart stopped. Twice.”

Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alexia whispered. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“You nearly died!” Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She must’ve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking. 

“There was no other way I’d take it! What if I’d lost you and I didn’t even know?” Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. “No, I did lose you, didn’t I? Your heart stopped! Your heart–”

Alexia’s knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexia’s head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.

Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters who’d only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like this–prone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bear–and knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery… Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance! 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes you’d made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.

Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. “And I wasn’t even there for you. Fuck, I wasn’t even there. I–”

“You cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I won’t let you.” You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, “And you think you weren’t there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.”

It was the truth that Alexia needed–that you needed her–to hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.

“You were there, Alexia, always. You just didn’t know it.”

You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, and–

“Is that…?”

Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. “Yes.”

“You kept it…” You whispered as emotions caught in your throat. 

“Of course, I did. It…” Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. “It makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.”

At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. “I know the feeling.”

A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, “Ale, come here. Let me dry your hair.”

That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.

Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and… something else that you couldn’t quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.

You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexia’s breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.

It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexia’s arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.

“Can I confess something?” Alexia whispered, voice raw.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. 

“I waited for you.” A pause. “Until I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped you’d come back.”

“Thank you for waiting.” You murmured.

“Thank you for coming back.” Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“I’m here, Alexia. I’m right here with you.” You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, “If I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.”

Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyone–well, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexia’s offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away. 

(You ignored Derek’s smirk; you spied him over Alexia’s shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)

And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexia’s company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexia’s celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.

When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips. 

It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexia’s figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.

And that, to you, was everything.

You took the call immediately after you saw Alexia’s name on your screen. 

“Alexia, what did you do?”

It was currently late October, over two months since the last time you’d seen her in person, but the both of you–and occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practice–remained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for her–although they still very much did–now only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia. 

But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now. 

Alexia’s chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. “Is this about Elisa’s trial?” 

“Please, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. “I didn’t do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisa’s name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.”

And as her word sank in–as you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfully–you let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, babe… I just had to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, “So, what happened?”

“Well, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisa’s eligibility for a trial to get into Barça’s youth team.”

“And how did Elisa take it?”

“She’s unusually calm about all of it and that’s exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.” You sighed, “I’m worried she believes she didn’t get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.”

A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexia’s face. “Do you mind if I talk to her?” 

“No, not at all. I think that’s a good idea. Hold on.” 

You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisa’s bedroom, then knocked on her door. 

“Ladybug, Alexia is on the phone.”

A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out. 

“Alexia?”

You tucked a strand behind her ear. “Yes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.”

Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready. 

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank you” 

“She just needed a little pep talk.” Alexia smiled at you, soft, “And anytime, my love.”

Two months later, Elisa’s club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa… Elisa passed the trial.

Elisa was going to Barcelona.

‘Come over when you’re done for the day?’

The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, ‘I’m coming up.’

Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his place–insisted even, so you wouldn’t get stressed out, which was sweet of him–and you accepted, but you promised you’d find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasn’t able to be with you. Well… until now.

Now faced with Alexia’s apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadn’t seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?

You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour. 

You moaned at the heat of Alexia’s tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexia’s arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire. 

To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.

Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.

“Wait–I’m sorry, I know we’re taking it slow but I just missed you so much and I–” 

You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didn’t fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clear–an action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she made–obscene in every sense of the word–and the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexia’s ever-present composure slipping. 

It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexia’s name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips. 

Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach. 

Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you. 

There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands… there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beauty–her character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotions–lust, desire, wonder, amity–but a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth. 

You loved Alexia. 

Oh, how you loved her so. 

With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you. 

She was beautiful. 

So, so beautiful.

All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after you’d helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the taste–finally, again–of her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look… these were the things that–in their divine simplicity–endeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.

As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful. 

Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.

Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.

“What is it, darling?” She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, “My body… it–I’m not like how you remembered.”

“Darling, your body will always be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off, “And I’m worried you’re not, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.“I’m ready when you are.”

Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerability–that thinly veiled fear–you’d seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?

“Alexia…” 

You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, “Please, let me see you. I want to… I want you.”

There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded. 

Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, “Thank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.”

You nodded again and then, Alexia’s lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain. 

Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Alexia’s lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexia’s hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.

Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology. 

And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.

“Are you ready? Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Alexia whispered on your lips.

You inched away so you could cup Alexia’s face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. “I’m ready. I trust you, Alexia.” 

She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, “Thank you.”

Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you still–would you sicken her? You probably would, wouldn’t you? You–

A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexia’s face contorting. A part of you screamed, ‘Look how you’ve appalled her!’, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexia’s lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torso–one on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breast–and her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desire–albeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her face–a mixture of relief, regret, and agony. 

Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breasts–her warmth–offered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexia’s body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexia’s hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.

Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.

“You’re here and you’re mine.” She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didn’t–or couldn’t–believe that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive. 

“I’m with you and I’m yours, Alexia.” You whispered with conviction. “Take me.” 

As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexia’s wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.

And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lost–and found again.

She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.

You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes… Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.

The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, ‘Come here’, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexia’s name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for she–without so much as losing the pace of her fingers–moved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.

She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, “You look so beautiful like this… feel so good. Love the way you’re so wet for me.”

“Ale… Alexia…” You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away. 

“That’s it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

The heat of it all–Alexia’s words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on you–finally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chest–a state of grace–that called to the woman before you. 

And so, you didn’t stop the words. 

You sighed against her ear, “I love you.” 

Alexia tensed but she didn’t stop until you’d finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.

And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.

“Do you mean it? Truly?” Alexia asked softly.

You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. “I do.” 

Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. “Say it again. Please.”

You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Alexia.” 

Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.

Then you parted, but Alexia’s forehead remained against yours.

And with tears in her eyes, she whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Hear me out on this one! A cute secret date turn relationship with Billy x fem reader. He doesn’t want people like his dad or Tommy getting in the way with his time with his girlfriend. You can write it however you pls!

Hope you like that idea, thank you 😊

Hiiiii!!! I’m sorry this sat in my inbox for so long!! I’m finally catching up on all of my requests, and this one is so cute! I really appreciate your patience, and I hope you like it! We're feeling fluffy with this one today 💕 | Master List 📖

You weren’t sure what a date with Billy Hargrove would entail. You had heard the rumors about the new King of Hawkins High – how he took a different girl home every week, and his sleek, blue Camaro was permanently parked out at Lover’s Lake. You were shocked that Friday when you were alone in the auditorium running through light cues, and Billy approached you.

“Tommy’s not here,” you called to him as he walked down one of the aisles. Tommy Hagan had been charged with sweeping up the auditorium during the lunch hour for two weeks after playing what he thought was a harmless prank on a freshman on the basketball team, and you were sure Billy had come looking for him.

“Is it just you in here?” His question caught you off guard, but you tried not to let it distract you from your work.

“Yeah. Did you need something?” Billy sat down in the chair next to you, and you finally looked up from your stack of cue sheets to see his signature smirk and cerulean eyes, deep like the ocean. You could smell his spiced aftershave, a hint of cigarette smoke, and the cool aroma of winterfresh gum as he leaned in closer to you.

“I just came to see if you’re free tonight.” Billy smacked his gum as he rested an arm over the back of your chair, awaiting your answer. You froze, unsure if this was a mistake or some kind of cruel joke.

“What for?” You searched his expression for any clues as to what he might be thinking, but it was unchanging.

“To go out,” he answered nonchalantly. Your breath caught in your chest, and crimson heat crept up to your cheeks.

“Like…on a date?” He had to have noticed your blushing and the perplexing look on your face, but he kept his cool completely.

“Of course.” He beamed, his blinding smile causing your stomach to erupt into butterflies.

“With you?!” Billy’s exterior cracked slightly with that question. He looked offended, almost irritated, and he started to fidget with something in his pocket.

“Look, if you don’t want to –”

“No!” You cut him off in a hurry. “No, it’s not that at all. It’s just –” He looked intently into your eyes as you tried to find the right words to explain your bewilderment. “I guess I didn’t think I was really your type.”

Billy chuckled and looked down at his shoes before meeting your eyes once more. “Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’ll pick you up at, say, 8 o’clock?” The voice in your head was screaming don’t do it; you know better, but everything else in your body reacted in the complete opposite fashion.

“Sure,” you agreed softly. Billy smiled once more before standing up from his chair, taking smooth strides toward the auditorium’s exit.

“See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder, never looking back. You heard the door close after him, and all you could do was stare wide-eyed at the wall while you tried to process what had just happened.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course he brought you to some random clearing in the woods. You were sure he was either about to murder you or try to get laid, and you couldn’t decide which one was worse. You assumed a date would occur somewhere conventional, like the movies, a restaurant, or the mall – not here at…an overlook? You tried not to let your apprehension show as Billy shifted his car into park.

“Well, here we are,” he declared, opening the driver’s side door and climbing out of the car into the chill of the starry night. You were surprised again when you heard the passenger door opening just a few seconds later, and he helped you out of your seat, steadying you on the uneven ground.

“Where is here, exactly?”

“I’ll show you; come here. And be careful. There’s a lot to trip over out here in the dark,” he warned. That didn’t make you feel any better about the possibility of being murdered, but you didn’t have much choice but to hold onto his arm as he led you to a guard rail at the top of the overlook.

“Wow,” you murmured. Every single light throughout the town of Hawkins was visible from where the two of you stood, and it was absolutely breathtaking. You had never seen so many shooting stars, and the deep navy sky was littered with sparkling clusters which were usually totally camouflaged under the umbrella of downtown’s streetlamps.

“You like it?” Billy sounded hopeful, like he actually cared whether his choice pleased you, and you nodded. He let out a small sigh of relief, and he slowly took your hand from his arm, interlacing your fingers together. The setting was more romantic than you had expected, and you couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts in the back of your mind that something was still amiss.

What if he had taken you here just so no one would see you together?

What if he was ashamed to be with you?

“Billy?” The anxiety in your voice must have been obvious because you felt him tense up beside you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” you half lied. “This is amazing. It’s just – are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“What?” The hurt in his tone tugged on your heartstrings. “No…no, why would you think that?” His other hand covered the top of yours, and he turned to face you. You could hardly make out his features in the dim glow of the city lights below you, but you could feel his concern tainting the atmosphere.

“I guess I expected a date to be somewhere more public. And when you took me to a hideout in the mountains, I was worried it was because you didn’t want anyone to know we were together,” you admitted, avoiding his eye contact. His warm hands squeezed yours just a little tighter.

“Hey, look at me,” he soothed. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want anyone to interrupt us. I wanted to be alone, just the two of us, so we could talk. You know, have real conversations. I’m so tired of my dad, my coaches, Tommy, Troy, and everyone else breathing down my neck, criticizing every decision I make.” Billy cupped the side of your face, grazing your cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want anyone getting in the way of something that could be really, really good for me.”

Your scarlet flush returned at his reassurance. You never would have dreamed Billy could be so gentle, so emotional. But he wanted to be here with you, marveling at this beauty, and it was the start of something wonderful.

“I believe you. I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just not used to things like this,” you whispered. He closed the distance between you so that your noses were touching, and you could feel his breath against your lips – a cool, winterfresh breeze.

“Do you want to be together? Like, as a couple?” Billy almost seemed nervous to ask you, but you were elated, answering him without wasting another second.

“Yes. Of course, yes.” You couldn’t stifle your grin. You felt sunshine in your chest, and you didn’t know what else to say in that moment, but everything felt perfect.

Billy leaned in slowly, his lips connecting with yours in the sweetest of first kisses. Time slowed as the two of you connected, and nothing else mattered while you basked in his warmth, stars showering overhead as the town of Hawkins slipped into a slumber below you.

[yuutasprincess]

thinkin’ abt puppyboy yuuta <3 he’s so rough he cant help himself when he sees how dumb you look when he’s forcing his cock down your throat ☹️ whimpers and growls when he’s close, but before he cums he grips your head tighter and angles his cock upwards, tail wagging when he sees how messy he’s made you; thick cum dripping from your nose and mouth onto your tits :(

<3

sweet slobbery puppy yuuta who always has this lost look on his face, he’s just a stupid pup who doesn’t know how to do much. sits by the door every night waiting for you to come home so he can jump your legs and nose at the curve of your neck, needs to make sure you smell like him he says. poor puppy has droopy eyes and dark circles from losing sleep over worrying about you, he’s such a good boy, listens to every word you say! hes just so deserving of a reward! your perfect puppy, gets so happy when you help him take care of his leaky cock, can’t help the way his tail swishes and cuts the air when you get on your knees and show him your tongue. yuuta has the sweetest whimpers, cries when you cup his heavy balls and howls when he cums down your throat. hes just so pent up all day he can’t help how much cum he has, has you choking on the salty fluid and he really can’t help how his softening cock gets hard again when his cum falls onto your pretty tits. poor pup is just messy he can’t help his excitement, but he’ll always help clean up after! will slobber all over your chest and lick up any drying cum, he might get a little distracted sucking on your tits but just give him a sweet scratch behind the ears and hell be hitting you with his tail asking if he can please put his puppies in you now.

[honnelander]

asdfghjkl I love your writing. Your Sanji & reader have my heart forreal 🫶🏼✨ keep up the great work 😘

Suggestion: reader having a niche hobby (like knitting/crocheting, or collecting shells, anything really LOL 😆 your choice) and Sanji’s reaction to that

you are soooo sweet thank you!! this request/suggestion was so cute, i loved it.

when i read "collecting shells" i immediately knew what i wanted to write for it and this is how i think go fish!Sanji would react to reader collecting sea shells as a niche hobby:

masterlist

When you had started collecting shells, it didn't start out as a hobby, far from it in fact. You didn't even know collecting sea shells was considered a hobby until Luffy pointed it out to you.

"Oh, wow! You collect shells y/n? How cool!" Luffy gushed with his signature bright smile that lit up his face. That's one of the things you loved about Luffy, he had the ability to make any rudimentary task seem like the most special thing ever. "What a cool hobby!"

And that was when your shell-collecting hobby was born. At first, you had just wanted a souvenir of some sort, just wanting a small piece of each island you visited so you could look back at your collection one day and remember all of the places you've ever been to.

It was something very special to you. So imagine how you felt when you nearly forgot to grab a shell one day, during a routine island pit stop to restock the ship's supplies, when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst just as the straw-hat crew was making their way towards the ship.

You liked to grab a shell right before you left. Usually, you had your routine: you would go to the closest beach to where the Going Merry was docked at, take a moment to survey the assortment of shells scattered along the beach, and pick out the shell that most reflected your either long or short time on the island. You loved it.

But during that particular trip, your shell-collecting routine didn't go as planned and you nearly had a heart attack at the thought of missing a shell.

The weather had suddenly turned for the worst as you and the crew were walking back towards the Merry. All of a sudden, it started to downpour so everyone decided to run back to the ship as fast as they could before all of the ship's supplies got ruined (well, everyone except for Zoro, who was already back on the ship with his stuff, not wanting to stick around on any island longer than he had to).

As you all were running up the plank to board the ship one by one, Luffy suddenly called out to you from the dock as you tailed behind Nami with Sanji right behind you.

"Wait! Y/n!" he called out and you stopped at the top of the plank to look back at him through the rain. "What about your sea shell? Don't forget to go and grab one!"

You gasped and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly dropped at the thought of forgetting to grab a shell and in turn, forgetting all about your visit to this island. "My shell!"

"Your what?" Sanji asked loudly over the rain, next to you.

You quickly dropped your crate of supplies on the ship's deck, not caring anymore if they got wet or not. "I have to go get my sea shell!" you replied quickly, running past him and back to the dock.

"Don't worry, y/n, we will be waiting right here for you!" Luffy reassured with a nod. "Now go get your shell!" he yelled and raised his fist in the air.

You gave him a grateful smile as you dashed towards the nearest beach, Sanji watching you go with a curious look in his eye before bringing your supply crate inside and out of the rain.

That night, as Sanji was cleaning up the kitchen, you were still at the table finishing up the warm soup he had made that night for dinner (he loved that you were a slow eater, it meant that most nights he got to spend a little bit of extra alone time with you in his favorite place), he asked you about your niche hobby.

"Feeling better now?" Sanji asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he cleaned off one of his knives with a rag, sneaking a look at you with a small smile. "All warmed up from being out in the rain too long?"

You hummed in agreement. "Absolutely," you nearly purred in delight (Sanji felt his heartbeat stutter for a second at your tone. He's never heard you like that before). You looked at the chef with gratitude. "Your food always hits the spot Sanji, but the soup you made tonight just hit differently. It warmed me right up."

"Ok good," Sanji laughed softly, looking at you for a few seconds through his blonde hair, and flicked it to the side slightly. "I can't have you getting sick on me now." He finished cleaning off the one knife, setting it down on the counter, picking up another to clean before he asked with a raised brow, "So, uh, why did you go back today? Something about a sea shell?"

And that's how he learned about your niche hobby.

You told him all about it; about how you wanted a small token from everywhere you've ever been, how long you've been doing it, described some of your favorite sea shells you've found so far, and how you couldn't wait to show your collection to your kids and grandkids someday and in turn, telling them all about your adventures with the straw hat pirates.

As Sanji listened to you explain your hobby to him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, stealing glances at you every so often. He loved listening to you talk about the things you were passionate about. He loved the way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled.

And for something as unique and special as this? He loved it even more because he knew that this little hobby of yours went way beyond just collecting shells, it was your own way of physically manifesting your hopes and dreams. Each shell you acquired was another story you would tell your future kids about. You were sharing a part of your soul with him, and Sanji was completely enamored.

From that night forward, Sanji had decided that he too would start a sea shell collection of his own, without you knowing, so that someday in the future, he could surprise you and your kids with it, with the beautiful sea shells he had secretly collected right alongside you, his future wife, the whole time.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face someday.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder

[whaliiwatching]

Hey hello. Consider. Hobie reading over and suggesting edits to drafts of Peter's writing and then going home visually with clippings and quotes from said writing as a part of him. Alternately, Peter takes inspiration from quotes visible on Hobie

heart on your sleeve…..

[buwheal]

I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

A (slightly angsty) domestic zukka hc I’ve been thinking abt a lot: I think Zuko would have a sort of knee-jerk flinching reaction when anybody touches his scar (with katara he looks like he’s bracing himself and with mai his whole upper body is sort of being held in place by her) (which i definitely think mai did on purpose to make him feel more comfortable but anyways) I think Sokka would after the first time figure out Zuko flinches hard even when he sees it coming and he’s The Plan Guy so I think he would secretly experiment and find out Zuko doesn’t flinch when sokka drags his hand from a different part of him (like his hair) onto his face. So he just starts doing that and it takes Zuko a stupid long amount of time to realize “hey Sokka touches my face a lot and it doesn’t suck. I wonder why🤨” until one day he figures it out like Sokka you sneaky shit you were nice to me and I didn’t notice

Bc the whole “zuko lets Sokka touch his scar bc he trusts him and he’s super normal abt it” is nice but it doesn’t feel realistic? You can trust someone a whole lot and still have instinctive trauma reactions. I think it’s much sweeter if Sokka notices and figures out a way to make it better without being asked.

Oh….. I’m….. this is a nice one 👍🏼

[new-revenant]

Hi, just wanted to say how much I love the bunny au and came up with a little something for it

Bunny Danny now models little outfits so Alfred can take measurements of the stuffed bunny since Alfred was let in on Danny being able to move around after he caught Danny feeding on the love/care/need to nourish feeling contained in the left overs in the middle of the night. The next time Damian gets Danny back he has three new suits

Thank you for liking the Stuffed Bunny AU!

Omg that’s so cute wa 🥹 I’m imagining Danny gets to have mini suits based on all the Batfam members, maybe even he gets suits of other superheroes, like Superman! He gets a whole closet of mini super suits, as a treat ^-^ Imagine if Damian comes home to Bunny Danny wearing a mini version of his own Robin suit hehe

[somegrumpynerd]

Aww 🥺💘 dadmare taking care of his sons overgrown hamsters is just the most adorable thing ever! And your Art is so very lovely too!! 🥰 thank you for such cuteness. 💕

Ahskbdkbgkjdbkj thank you!!! <3

I'm pretty sure this is in reference to this (sorry it took so long to answer) and here's another doodle since you're so sweet and kind

Doesn't know how to be affectionate with a parental figure VS doesn't know how to be affectionate at all FIGHT

[reigningmax]

Max playing padel in Miami, May 10