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nerdycheol · 10 days ago

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A Seat Across from You

☘︎ pairings: choi seungcheol x reader [afab]

☘︎ warnings: strangers to lovers(?), fluff, a lots and lots of slowburn, reader is annoyingly dumb, miscommunication, too much running away & avoiding

☘︎ wc: 9.5k

(a/n): FOR YUKI'S 100 MILESTONE EVENT!! do check out everyone else's work too, they're all are amazing!! I had sm fun writing this. thankyou lexi (@ikeukiss ) for this amazinnggg banner <33 also thankyou to the ones who brainstormed ideas with me calli (@hhaechansmoless), yuki (@eclipsaria) daisy (@flowerwonu) ily'all smm :3 it was originally supposed to be this long, but i wanted to make it as natural as possible :| so forgive me and hope you like it ;) this is not proof read so ignore slight mistakes. tagging alaska (@cherry-zip) because i love them

playlist recommendation 🎵: traingazing-sam wills, sunny-rocco, from the start- laufey, dive- olivia dean, fool-kidsnot$aints, fall in love-jukjae, lily of the valley- daniel, l-o-v-e -rocco, hold me never let go- rocco

(inspired by traingazing- sam wills)

dividers by @cafekitsune

i’d love to hear your thoughts, i love reading your comments and seeing your reblogs! 💗

DAY 1

Morning comes the same way it always does — too soon, too cold, too reluctant to let you ease into it.

You woke up ten minutes late today. Not enough to send you into panic, but just enough to make the morning feel a bit rushed. Your sweater slightly mismatches your coat, but you tell yourself it’s fine. Your bag feels heavier than usual, though you can’t remember adding anything new to it.

The streets are damp from last night’s rain, and a few early risers move with purpose, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. You walk the familiar path to the station, following the same cracks in the pavement you always do.

The train is late today. Two minutes, maybe three. Enough to remind you that the world doesn’t run on your schedule.

When it finally arrives, you step in, immediately greeted by the usual low murmur of conversation, the shuffling of feet against the floor, the faint scent of someone’s too-strong cologne. You shift your bag higher on your shoulder, scanning the car for a spot, eyes moving without much thought.And that’s when you see him. He stands by the farthest door, one shoulder pressed against the glass, gaze turned outward.

You don’t know why you pause. Maybe it’s the way the early light spills across his face, casting faint shadows along the bridge of his nose and his sharp jawline. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely detached from the rush around him, earphones in, lost in something only he can hear.

He wears a brown high-neck sweater, the kind that looks soft even from a distance. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other wrapped around the strap of a worn black backpack. His expression is unreadable—not bored, not impatient, just… distant.

You don’t think he notices you.

It’s silly, the way you keep looking. He’s just another passenger, someone you’ll probably never speak to, never know. But still, you watch him for a moment longer, as if memorizing this version of the morning before the spell breaks.

A man steps in front of you, shifting to adjust his briefcase. The moment lasts only a second, but when you glance back.

He’s gone.

You blink, scanning the space where he had been, but now, it’s empty.

For some reason, the thought lingers as the train lurches forward. You shake it off, exhaling softly. It’s nothing. Just another passing commuter, another stranger among many others.

As you grip the pole tightly, you wonder

Will he be here tomorrow?

DAY 2

The train doors slide open with a mechanical sigh, and you step in. Your usual spot is taken today by an older woman clutching a canvas tote, her head tilted forward in light sleep. So you move a little further down, fingers curling around the overhead rail.

And then you see him. You don’t mean to look, not really. But there he is again, standing in the exact same place as yesterday — leaning against the glass panel near the doors, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Today, a book rests in his grip, fingers idly turning a page as his gaze flickers across the words.

You wonder, briefly, if he ever misses his stop. If he ever gets so lost in thought that he forgets where he’s going.

The thought lingers for a second too long.

A jolt in the tracks sends the train swaying, and you glance away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s nothing. Just another passenger in the sea of strangers.

And yet, when you step off at your stop, you catch yourself glancing back. Just once.

DAY 10

It’s been ten days since you first saw him. Ten mornings of stepping onto the same train, gripping the same pole, and watching him from the corner of your eye.

Every day, he’s there — leaning against the glass panel, the same sky-blue book in his hands, which makes you wonder if he ever really reads it. His hands are always in his pockets; sometimes, his gaze turns toward the window.

You don’t know when you start expecting to see him.

He’s just supposed to be another passenger, another face in the blur of morning commuters. But now… now, the moment you step onto the train, your eyes move without thinking, searching and waiting.

The next day comes like all the others. But lately, there’s one thing that makes the mornings feel less mundane.

You find yourself on the platform, scanning the crowd before you even realize what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll never know his name, never exchange a single word, but that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring a thousand possibilities, fleeting thoughts that leave you restless.

The train arrives with a familiar hum, and as you step inside, your eyes instinctively seek him out.

There he is.

Standing in his usual spot, clad in a high-neck sweater and loose-fitted trousers. But today, something is missing — his book.

Instead of reading, he simply watches the city blur past, his reflection faintly mirrored in the window. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other grips the strap of a worn brown suitcase.

And then his head tilts slightly.

For a brief second, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in your chest.

Is he looking at you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you glance away too quickly, pretending to check the screen. A silly reaction. He’s probably just lost in thought, staring past you like people often do.

Even as you tell yourself that, the feeling still lingers.

DAY 11

You’re not a superstitious person. You never believe what people say about black cats crossing your path bringing bad luck. On the contrary, you feel good things happen to you when you see a black cat.

And weirdly enough, the man on the train feels like your black cat. It’s not that he actually brings good luck. It’s just that your day seems a little better whenever you see him.

Today, you oversleep. Miss your alarm. Burn your toast. Everything feels five steps behind as you shove your shoes on and fly out the door, heart pounding at the thought of the impending scolding from your manager for being late.

You’re breathless. Disoriented. Out of rhythm.

The train is already at the platform by the time you arrive, and you squeeze in just before the doors seal shut.

But it’s okay, you think — as long as I see him.

And then, your gaze lifts instinctively.

He’s not there.

Your eyes dart across the carriage — once, twice, again. Nothing. Just faces you don’t recognize. None of them are him.

Your heart sinks, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. People have lives. Schedules change. Trains get missed.

Still, you lean your head against the glass, suddenly aware of how loud everything feels in his absence. The usual quiet thrill has dulled.

You spend the ride staring out the window. Trying to mimic the way he does it. Trying to imagine what he sees in the blur of grey buildings and sleepy streets.

It doesn’t work.

You get off at your stop and walk a little slower.

Funny, how much space a stranger can take up in your head.

DAY 13

Today, you see him again. And somehow, that alone makes you feel like the day might not be so bad after all.

You can’t find a seat in the morning rush, so you claim a spot near the door, your shoulder resting against the cool glass panel.

Just like any other day, he enters.

Today, he’s in a dark blue satin shirt tucked neatly under a black trench coat. He takes his usual place across from you, setting his suitcase down by his foot before pulling out the same sky-blue book he reads every day.

You squint slightly to catch the title — Ikigai. You make a quiet mental note to buy it later.

The train halts at the next station, and a new wave of commuters pours in. The space tightens. You try to brace yourself, but the crowd pushes you forward.

Your shoulder bumps into someone — him.

You freeze, flustered, about to apologize when he looks up from his book.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly, mumbling a quiet thanks before turning your face away, hoping the heat on your cheeks isn’t too obvious.

And then he smiles. A perfect little curve that deepens into a dimple.

Oh man.

If you weren’t in deep before — you are now.

DAY 20

It takes a whole twenty days for him to finally notice you.

Like any other day, he enters the train and occupies his spot near the door. This time, you happen to be standing beside him. Like clockwork, he pulls out the book, slides the bookmark free, and holds it between two fingers; eyes moving smoothly over the pages.

The train screeches to an abrupt stop between stations, and the lights overhead flicker once before settling into a dim, humming glow.

Around you, the usual groans begin. A man sighs dramatically. Someone taps their foot like it might make the train move faster. The lady next to you mutters something under her breath about being late again.

The volume of your earphones must be louder than you think, because he looks at you and asks, “Laufey?”

You let out a sigh, glance at your watch to check the time, and look up instinctively because he’s here today too.

Just in time, his gaze lifts and finds yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you can’t help it — you smile back.

Not entirely sure he’s talking to you, you pull out one earbud and mumble, “Sorry?”

He gives a little smile before repeating the question — and god, that damn smile will be the end of you.

You don’t put your earphones back in. Somehow, it feels rude now. Your gaze flickers around the coach, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going.

“Ikigai! I’ve read it. It’s nice,” you blurt out, nodding toward the book in his hand.

“Really?” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t met many people who really understand it. It’s nice to find someone who appreciates it. What part did you like the most?”

Idiot. Why would you say that?

You haven’t even finished the book. You bought it on a whim, sure — but gave up halfway through because it was too dense for your brain to grasp at 10 p.m. on a work night.

“Uhh… the… the living part.”

What the hell does that even mean? Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?

“That’s… interesting,” he replies, polite but clearly unconvinced. You can feel the moment your credibility starts slipping away.

“I mean, I really like the concept behind it,” you add quickly, grasping at straws. “You know, the idea of ‘the happiness of always being busy’… things like that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hoping it masks the rising panic. He’s still looking at you, curious. That unnerving kind of silence that feels like he’s trying to decide whether you’re genuinely insightful or completely full of it.

Just when you’re about to change the subject or fake a sudden phone call, he smiles again. A little smaller this time. Softer.

“That is a nice thought,” he says, his voice warm now. “I think that’s what I liked too.”

You blink. He’s letting you off the hook?

Relief floods through you, and you feel yourself relax just a little, your shoulders easing out of the tense shrug you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You probably understood it better than I did, though,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “but I haven’t finished it either.”

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

You stare at him, stunned for a beat — then laugh.

Of course he hasn’t. Of course he let you sweat for a full minute before throwing you a lifeline.

He chuckles, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you don’t put your earphones back in.

DAY 30

You finally get to know his name. Seungcheol. It suits him, you think.

You’ve started greeting each other every time you meet. You don’t talk much, just small conversations here and there about your day, the weather, or whatever comes up.

At some point, you admit you gave up on Ikigai because it was a bit too complex for your “small brain,” as you put it. He laughs at that. Really laughs but ever since, he’s taken to explaining parts of the book to you whenever you meet.

And you can’t help but think… if you’d known him during your college years, you probably would’ve passed every exam with flying colors.

You find out that he works in finance and surprisingly, his office is near yours. The revelation makes you wonder why he never gets off at the same station as you, but you don’t ask.

Some things feel too delicate to question just yet.

One morning, you notice a small Captain America keychain dangling from the zipper of his suitcase — a new addition. Curious, you ask if he likes Marvel.

He laughs, shaking his head. “My nephew stuck it on and insisted I keep it. I haven’t really watched many of the movies.”

You gasp dramatically, loud enough that a few passengers turn to look. “You’ve never watched Marvel?!”

He winces, grinning. “Maybe one or two? I don’t remember much.”

From that moment on, your train rides take on a new rhythm. You start explaining the entire Marvel storyline, movie by movie, diving into characters and chaotic timelines, your hands animated and your eyes bright with excitement.

And Seungcheol? He listens. Really listens — eyes on you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, occasionally asking questions or teasing you gently when your passion makes you trip over your own words.

DAY 40

Lately, Seungcheol starts getting off at the same station as you.

The first time it happens, you shoot him a curious glance, unsure if it’s just a coincidence. But when it happens again, and then again, you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, but… why didn’t you get off at the earlier station?” you ask, brows slightly raised.

Today, as the train slows to your stop, you notice he doesn’t move toward the doors like he usually does.

Instead, he waits beside you.

He catches your glance and smiles casually. “I used to get off early to grab coffee. Their brews were the best I’ve ever had.”

“So… no coffee today?”

He shrugs, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I woke up early to get it before the train. That way, I could ride with you.”

Your heart thumps a little. Not enough to show on your face, but enough that you feel it in your throat.

You look away, trying to hide your smile.

“Ah… well,” you say lightly, “must be some really good coffee.”

“Second best part of my morning,” he replies without missing a beat.

DAY 46

Walks with Seungcheol are part of your routine now.

You used to drag yourself out of bed to start the day, but lately, you wake up on your own even before your alarm rings.

You learn he has a dog. Kkuma. A pretty little Coton de Tuléar with soft white fur and a habit of stealing the spotlight. He goes on evening runs with her every Sunday, and almost without fail, he sends you a picture afterward. Kkuma, dressed in a tiny hoodie or a frilly bow.

At some point, the two of you exchange numbers. It starts with simple texts — “I reached safely” and “See you tomorrow” — but quickly grows into something more.

Now, you text nearly every day, even though you see each other just as often.

And while Kkuma is adorable, you can’t help but zoom in just a little to catch a glimpse of the man holding the leash, his messy sunday hair. The hint of a smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing.

It’s pouring today.

You’re already halfway to the subway when the first drops begin to fall. Too light to worry about, at least at first so you keep walking, brushing damp hair from your face as the drizzle picks up.

Seungcheol boards the train two stops after yours. And the moment he enters, his eyes scan the crowd searching until he sees you. Then he makes his way over.

You talk about your weekends — easy conversation, soft laughter. It makes the ride feel quicker than usual.

When you step out of the station, you realize you forgot to check the weather. The rain’s still coming down, steady and unrelenting. You don’t have an umbrella.

Seungcheol, like some savior from a drama scene, wordlessly opens his umbrella and holds it over your head. You offer to carry it, but he refuses. So you ask to hold his suitcase instead.

But a few steps later, he stops. With his right hand, he adjusts the umbrella and then with his left, gently pulls you closer, tucking you beneath the canopy again.

You walk side by side, shoulders brushing now and then.

After the third time, you shift slightly away, not wanting to invade his space.

Your arm brushes his.

“If you get sick,” he says, eyes forward, voice casual, “who am I supposed to go to work with?”

You don’t say anything, just look up at him and smile. But you don’t move away either.

DAY 50

You and Seungcheol start growing closer.

It isn’t just morning walks anymore. Sometimes, you stop by a café after work, sit across from each other with drinks in hand and talk about everything and nothing. You walk home together too, shoulders bumping every now and then, especially when the sidewalk narrows.

If one of you is running late, the other waits—no matter how crowded the station gets.

Even the metro rides become something you look forward to. You talk about dinner plans or what shows you’re binge-watching. Some days you just share a playlist, sitting in companionable silence as the train rocks gently beneath your feet.

The evenings are always busier than the mornings. Too crowded to sit together, too loud to talk. So you both end up standing on either side of the door, listening to the same song through your AirPods, synced through Bluetooth. It becomes a little ritual.

Still, you hate the space between you.

It’s silly. Just a few feet. But Seungcheol has this quiet warmth to him—like being near him makes the train feel less suffocating, the day a little lighter. And on the days when the coach is packed and you have to stand apart, you miss that.

Then, one day, you fish into your bag and pull out your wired earphones instead.

Seungcheol notices immediately. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Oh… um, they broke,” you say, not really looking at him.

He doesn’t ask anything else. Just smiles and reaches for one side of the wire, placing the left earbud in his ear while you take the right.

You stand side by side that day, close enough that your arms touch. Close enough to hear him hum under his breath. And when the train jolts forward suddenly, he reaches out instinctively to steady you—fingers curling briefly around your wrist before letting go.

Neither of you say anything about it. You just stand there, sharing music.

And somehow, the ride home feels shorter than ever.

That night, after dinner and a long shower, you flop onto your bed and reach for your phone.

No messages.

You stare at the screen for a moment before opening your playlist—the one you listened to with Seungcheol on the train.

You scroll down and tap on one song. The one that was playing when his fingers brushed yours.

You don’t think too much about it—you just send it to him. No caption. Just the link.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol [11:47 PM] good taste also… I liked this part the best [audio snippet attached]

You play it. It’s the chorus.

Your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol [11:48 PM] reminds me of train rides and someone hogging the right earbud 👀

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [9:49 PM] i offered to switch sides you’re the one with territorial issues

Another reply, instantly.

Seungcheol [9:49 PM] fine, next time I’ll hold the wire hostage

You laugh, phone resting against your chest.

DAY 69

You don’t expect to see Seungcheol on a Sunday.

Today is supposed to be all about the Han River. There’s a lantern festival happening, something your friends have been buzzing about for weeks. If it were up to you, you’d spend the entire Sunday curled up on your couch, binge-watching Friends for the third time this year.

But your friends are determined. They show up at your apartment in full force, barging in with iced coffee and snacks. Apparently, they don’t trust you not to cancel again.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Last year, you claimed you had “urgent office work.” The year before that, you said your grandmother was sick and needed to be taken care of.

(Sorry, Grandma. You’re doing great. I love you.)

So here you are dressed, dragged out, and mentally preparing yourself to be social for the next few hours.

Your group decides to head to the river early to avoid the crowds and grab lanterns before they sell out. After a long walk under the sun, everyone is tired and hungry, so you volunteer to run to the convenience store and grab some ramen.

What you don’t expect is to bump into Seungcheol doing the exact same thing.

And judging by the surprised look on his face, he doesn’t expect to see you either.

He lifts a hand in a small wave, his voice matching it in volume. “Hey.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Jihyo appears at your side, arms full with four cans of beer.

“Oh, hello,” she says, giving Seungcheol a polite nod before turning to you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, we go to work to—”

But Seungcheol doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“You go to work with someone?!” Jihyo gasps dramatically. “Wow, didn’t think you had friends outside of us.”

Before you can react, a blond-haired man strolls up to Seungcheol’s side.

“Cheol, there’s no space outside.”

“Then we’ll just sit here—” Seungcheol begins, but Jihyo is faster.

“You guys can join us!”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the blond man grins. “Sitting with pretty ladies and eating good food? Count me in.”

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol starts, but again, Jihyo cuts him off.

“This is going to be so fun!”

Just like that, she walks off with Jeonghan, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. You can’t help but envy her a little, for how effortlessly she talks to new people.

That leaves you and Seungcheol standing alone, both a little thrown off but smiling anyway.

You exchange a glance, share a quiet smile, then follow after the two of them, side by side.

By the time you all finish eating, the sun has dipped low in the sky. The festival is about to begin—lanterns being unpacked, children running around with glowing sticks, couples picking spots near the river.

You and Seungcheol haven’t talked much since the ramen store encounter. Not because anything is wrong, but because suddenly, things feel… different.

Awkward in a new way.

Even though you’ve known him for a while now, even though you’ve shared coffee, playlists, and half your mornings—something about seeing him here, outside your usual rhythm, throws you off.

You keep catching each other’s eyes and looking away just as quickly, only to glance back a moment later. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. You return it, cheeks warm.

The boys couldn’t buy the lanterns because all sold out early, so you decided to share yours.

The six of you split into groups to light and lift the lanterns—Jihyo and Nayeon pair up, Jeonghan and Joshua team together, and that, of course, leaves you and Seungcheol.

You sit on the grass with the lantern between you, a set of markers in hand.

“Should I draw something meaningful or just… stars?” you ask, uncapping a pen.

“Stars are meaningful,” Seungcheol says, kneeling beside you.

You smile and begin sketching— tiny stars, a moon, a little ramen bowl in the corner for fun. Seungcheol adds a small Kkuma doodle near the bottom. Your hands brush once. Neither of you moves away.

When it’s finally time to lift the lantern, you both stand, holding it gently between you. Around you, dozens of lanterns floating into the sky, glowing orange and soft against the inky blue.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing at you not at the lantern.

You nod. “One, two, three…”

You let go.

And for a second, your gaze follows the lantern.

But his stays on you.

The sky is dark and clear, making every light stand out sharply. Lanterns float up one by one, glowing softly in warm shades of orange and gold. They move slowly, carried by the breeze, flickering light. The river below mirrors them perfectly, like the sky has dipped down to meet the water. It’s calm, almost still, just the soft rustle of grass and the low hum of people watching in silence.

The sky sparkles above you, but you feel the warmth of his eyes more than the lantern lights.

Later that night, back home, your phone buzzed with a message from Jihyo.

It was a photo.

You and Seungcheol standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the lantern rise. The light from the flame illuminated your faces, casting a glow that made the photo look straight out of the Tangled movie.

Then another message follows.

Jihyo [11:59 pm] you & your lover boy 💗

You roll your eyes, already typing a response.

You [typing…] “it’s not like that—”

Before you could even hit send, another message pops up.

Jihyo [12:00 am] “and don’t even try to say no. i’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

You stare at the screen, speechless.

Because, maybe you don’t really want to deny it.

DAY 70

Jihyo’s words stay with you the whole night. You keep reaching for your phone, opening it just to stare at that photo again. You don’t see it, the so-called look Seungcheol is giving you—not the way Jihyo describes it.

Still, it’s enough to keep you tossing and turning, caught between curiosity and denial.

When you wake up, there are faint dark circles under your eyes. You even stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if it’s actually possible to get dark circles overnight.

You start your day later than usual. Not because you oversleep. No, you’ve been awake for a while—but because you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol. You time your routine to reach the station half an hour late, thinking—no, hoping he’s already gone.

You aren’t ready to face him. Not after everything in your head starts sounding like Jihyo’s voice.

But of course, life has other plans.

Seungcheol is still there—standing on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd like a puppy trying to find its owner. And when he finally spots you, his face lights up instantly. He waves too eagerly, too wide and jogs over to meet you.

“Oh! Seungcheol,” you say, caught off guard.

“Hey!” he grins. “I was this close to calling you.”

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask. “Won’t you be late?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just a few minutes.”

“Seungcheol. I was thirty minutes late. That’s not just a few minutes.”

He smiles, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I wanted to go with you.”

And just like that—your heart does that stupid thing again. The thing where it thumps in your chest a little too loudly, like it’s trying to remind you you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.

You look away, down at your shoes, anywhere but at him.

Because Jihyo might’ve been wrong about the look. But you aren’t so sure about yours.

When it’s time to get off work, you make some excuse that you have to stay over longer because of some pending work and ask him to not wait for you.

To which he replies with a pout emoji and an ‘okay’ with it.

DAY 74

Over the next few days, you try to avoid him—subtly. At least, you think it’s subtle. But apparently, you aren’t as discreet as you’d hoped. Because on the third day, Seungcheol texts you, asking if you are avoiding him, if anything is wrong, or if he did something wrong.

You stare at the message for a long time, guilt creeping in.

You don’t mean to hurt him. Truly, you don’t. But the space helps. You need those few days to gather your thoughts, to figure out what’s going on inside your own head.

And somewhere in that quiet, you realize something.

You might actually like Seungcheol.

Not just the morning walks or the shared playlists or his little smile when your eyes meet. Him.

And now, all you can do is hope—really hope that Jihyo has been right all along about the way he looks at you.

So you decide not to avoid him anymore. And also maybe try to come clean about your feelings.

DAY 75

You wear your pink skirt and a white off-shoulder top today—the one Jihyo swears makes you look like an angel. You wake up extra early, wanting to take your time getting ready. Something different from your usual pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. A little blush, soft liner, your favorite lip tint. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to make you feel… pretty.

Because today, you decide. You are going to confess to Seungcheol.

You are nervous, no doubt about that. But mixed in with the nerves is something else—something bright and fluttery. A little thrill at the thought that this could be the day everything changes.

It feels like either the last day you’ll see Seungcheol as just a friend… or the last time you’ll ever see him.

When you reach the station, he’s already there. He hasn’t noticed you yet, which gives you a quiet moment to take him in.

He looks good. Too good for a regular weekday.

A crisp black shirt tucked into slate grey pants, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it while waiting. He has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a coffee, eyes scanning the platform casually.

You walk over and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, smiling. “Hi—”

Then his eyes widen slightly, his smile freezing for a second before softening into something warmer.

“Woah… you look amazing. Is there any occasion today?” he asks. “Wait, is it your birthday?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. I just… felt like wearing this.”

He tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Well, you look really pretty.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, cheeks already heating up. Before you can say anything more, the train arrives, pulling into the platform with a gust of wind and that familiar screech of brakes. You both step in together, falling into your usual routine—music, small talk, the shared comfort of standing close.

Later, as you walk out of the station toward your offices, Seungcheol glances over.

“Hey… would you mind coming with me somewhere after work?” he asks.

“Where?” you ask, surprised.

“I need to buy a gift. For someone.”

You blink. Is he buying something for you? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he take you along to pick your own gift?

Still, you nod. “Sure.”

—

You manage to finish your work quickly and leave the office earlier than usual. Outside, leaning casually against the building wall, is Seungcheol—head tilted down, focused on his phone.

He looks effortlessly handsome. Same shirt from the morning, sleeves pushed up a little higher now, hair ruffled even more from the long day. He glances up as you walk over.

“Hey,” you greet, and he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling like he’s been waiting for you.

You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way to wherever this little errand of his will lead.

The shop is located on the corner of an alleyway. No wonder you’ve never seen it before. Inside, it’s small but cozy, filled with shelves lined with candles, handmade accessories, tiny notebooks, and other gift-y things that feel both thoughtful and random. Seungcheol walks ahead, scanning the displays carefully. You trail behind, heart beating just a little too fast.

He eventually makes his way to the counter and leans in slightly, speaking to the worker.

“Do you know what would be a good gift for a lady?” he asks, voice polite.

The worker looks up. “What age range are we talking about?”

“Around 25?” he replies casually.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You quickly turn away and wander to the far end of the shop, pretending to browse a shelf of overpriced bookmarks.

Your stomach drops.

Of course he’s taken. Why wouldn’t he be?

You feel like an idiot. A man this kind, this funny, this good-looking—how could he possibly be single? You scold yourself internally for even letting the idea of confessing take root.

You don’t know what you feel more—embarrassed that you almost made a move, or heartbroken that he’s already someone else’s.

Maybe you should be grateful. At least you haven’t actually said anything. You can still keep the friendship. Things can stay the same.

Right?

Even if all you want right now is to go home, bury yourself in a blanket, and scream into your pillow.

DAY 87

You start avoiding Seungcheol again. This time, it isn’t subtle.

You don’t reply to his texts. When he messages asking, “Are you avoiding me again?”, all you can bring yourself to respond is a simple, “I’m sick.”

Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

You begin leaving for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual, hoping to slip away before he even reaches the station. On top of that, you start taking the women’s coach—just in case he happens to come early too.

It is ridiculous, you know that. But the thought of seeing him, knowing what you know—or rather, what you think you know is too much. You don’t trust yourself to act normal, and you don’t want him to see through you.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You disappear from his mornings. Even if it breaks your heart to do it.

—

But what you don’t expect is to walk through the door and see him there.

You decide you hate Jihyo.

She texts you earlier saying she and Nayeon are going out for drinks with some people, and asks if you want to come. You have been a mess for days—mopey, overthinking—so you figure, why not? A night out might help. Distraction can’t hurt.

You freeze just a few steps inside the bar, hand flying out to grab Jihyo by the wrist.

“What are they doing here?” you hiss, nodding toward the trio of familiar men at the bar counter—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, laughing over drinks like they have no idea they are ruining your life.

“Oh, I invited them,” Jihyo says with a shrug, like she just asked them over for coffee.

Your jaw drops. “How? How did you even get their numbers?”

“I exchanged numbers with Jeonghan the other day,” she says simply, brushing past your panic like it is nothing. And before you can protest, she is already walking over to greet them smiling, waving, completely unbothered.

You don’t have the energy to chase after her.

The rest of the night is a blur of noise and lights and everything-you-wanted-to-avoid crashing into you all at once. Seungcheol tries to talk to you more than once, always gentle, always a little concerned, but you keep brushing him off, pretending you don’t hear, pretending someone has called your name.

You laugh louder than necessary, drink more than you should’ve, and cling to Nayeon’s arm like it is a lifeline.

By the time it’s time to leave, you can barely stand without holding onto something or someone.

And when the drinks start to hit, you get drunk. Properly drunk.

Because maybe if your head is fuzzy enough, you’d stop remembering the way he looks at you in that photo or the way he looks at you right now.

Your head feels heavy, and your voice comes out slower than usual. Jihyo and Nayeon aren’t much better off. They giggle as they sling their arms around each other, tipsy and carefree. The problem is—they live in the same direction. You don’t.

Even in your dazed state, you can vaguely make out Seungcheol speaking to Jihyo.

“I’ll drop her home,” he says, voice calm and firm.

“YOU’RE THE BEST—thank you!” Jihyo shouts, completely unhelpful, before stumbling away with Nayeon, leaving you behind.

You stare at Seungcheol, swaying slightly, hugging your bag tightly to your chest like it is some kind of shield. He walks ahead, opens the passenger door to his car, and turns back to you with a tired sigh.

“Can you please get in?”

You blink at him. He raises an eyebrow. You don’t move.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” he adds dryly. “Just trying to make sure you get home in one piece.”

You hesitate for another beat before finally moving, sliding into the passenger seat with a clumsy thump. He closes the door behind you and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Can you put your address in the GPS?” he asks once he is settled.

You fumble with your phone, hands still trembling a bit. Eventually, you manage to type it in and pass it to him.

The car pulls out onto the main road, and for a while, there is only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of the air conditioning.

Then he rolls the window down a little.

The cool night air hits your face, it helps for a moment. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The nausea settles just a bit, and your thoughts start to line up again, one by one.

Still a mess, still confused. But slowly sobering up.

You ask him to drop you off a little farther from your house—somewhere down the road, away from your actual address.

But, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t listen.

He stops the car right at the bottom of the slope that leads up to your place, shifts into park, and turns to you.

“Stay here,” he says gently, before getting out of the car.

You blink, confused, until you see him circle around and open your door for you. He holds out his hand.

You hesitate, but your legs aren’t steady enough to argue. You let him help you out, his hand warm around yours. He doesn’t let go even as you both start walking up the quiet slope together.

The silence between you stretches for a few minutes, just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and distant insects chirping in the dark. You aren’t sure if it is the alcohol still in your system or the storm in your chest, but eventually, you break the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask.

He glances at you, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale slowly, avoiding his eyes. “You know it’s not exactly gentlemanly to lead on a lady when you’re already in a relationship.”

He stops walking.

“…What relationship?” he asks, voice cautious.

You keep your eyes forward. “The bag you bought the other day—it was for her, right? Your girlfriend.”

He says your name softly. Then again, firmer. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “In fact… there’s someone I like.”

Your heart sinks anyway. Just hearing those words “someone I like” even if it isn’t someone he is with, it still isn’t you.

You look away. “Then go tell her. Why waste all this time on someone who you won’t like back?”

Your voice drops to a mumble at the end, but he still hears it.

He squeezes your hand, just enough to make you look at him again.

“You’re the one I like”, he says.

You don’t know if it is the alcohol or the months of slow-burn tension finally snapping but you lean in.

“No,” he holds you back by your shoulders. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you might not remember.”

Your lips part in protest, but nothing comes out. Your face crumples instead, and without another word, you turn around and start walking ahead.

“Just go,” you mutter. “I’m fine. You don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call out to stop you. But he doesn’t leave either.

He stays parked at the bottom of the slope. Watches you unlock your door. Waits until you step inside. Stays there until the lights in your house turn off.

You don’t know what exactly you’ve done.

But one thing you are sure of. The ghost of tonight is going to haunt you tomorrow.

DAY 90

You were right.

You don’t remember everything that happened last night. Bits and pieces come to you in flashes—your head pounds every time you try to force the memory. You vaguely recall leaving the bar, Seungcheol’s car, walking up the slope...

The more you try to piece it together, the worse your headache gets.

You pop some ibuprofen, hoping it will dull both the physical ache and the mental chaos. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just enough to drag yourself out of bed and into work clothes.

When you finally make it to the station, still feeling like your brain has been put through a blender, you spot him.

Standing exactly where he always does—except now, just the sight of him sends your stomach into a spiral.

You freeze in place.

Few memories flash by. You remember asking about the gift. You remember accusing him of leading you on.

Oh no.

Oh god.

Did you try to kiss him?

Before you can figure out how to vanish into thin air, Seungcheol is already walking toward you. Calm. Collected. Way too composed for someone who might’ve been kissed by a drunk mess.

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a hangover medicine to you.

You blink. Then take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“About yesterday…” he starts.

Panic flares.

“Nope,” you blurt. “I mean—OH LOOK! The train’s here, let’s go!”

You practically speed-walk past him and into the nearest compartment like your shoes are on fire.

The entire train ride, you keep a very safe three-foot distance between you and Seungcheol, standing awkwardly near the door like you don’t even know him. You avoid eye contact like it is your job. If someone had drawn a chalk line around you, it would’ve been labeled “emotional damage containment zone.”

You have no idea what to say or what he wants to say. But whatever it is… you aren’t ready.

DAY 94

You had, against all odds, successfully dodged the talk with Seungcheol. And honestly? You were kind of proud of yourself.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature move, but avoiding awkward emotional conversations? You were practically a professional at this point.

Not that he made it easy.

He still waited at the station for you, even though you started leaving earlier than usual in the hopes of missing him. On the train, you avoided any and all eye contact like your life depended on it. And despite that, when evening rolled around, you’d still find him waiting outside your office building, casually leaned against the wall like he hadn’t been ghosted for a week straight.

You’d just mumble something about needing to finish up emails and hide behind your monitor.

Even your coworkers had caught on.

“Your handsome man is downstairs again,” one of them would say with a teasing grin.

“You shouldn’t keep a man that fine waiting. It’s rude,” another would chime in.

But today… Seungcheol clearly decided enough was enough.

As you walk out together after work, the sun just starts to dip low in the sky. He glances sideways at you and asks casually, “Do you like cafes or parks better?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The vibe, I mean. Like if you had to pick. Cafes or parks?”

You furrow your brows, confused but grateful he isn’t bringing up that night.

What you didn’t realize, of course, is that he wasn’t just making small talk—he is trying to figure out where you’d feel more comfortable. Where you’d feel safe enough to finally talk.

Which, honestly? Is kind of really sweet.

The park is quiet this time of day—just a few people jogging, some kids chasing each other near the fountain, the sky turning that soft, cotton-candy shade of evening.

You aren’t sure how you got here, really. One second you’re walking with Seungcheol, and the next he is leading you toward a bench under a big tree, acting like this is just another casual detour.

Except… you know it isn’t.

You sit beside him, not too close, not too far. Your hands rest in your lap, picking at your sleeves. You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

Seungcheol doesn’t speak for a while. He just sits there, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he finally says.

You keep your gaze ahead. “I wasn’t.”

“You avoided me like I had the plague.”

You let out a breath—part laugh, part guilt. “I panicked.”

“Why?”

You hesitate. “Because I remembered bits and pieces from that night. I thought maybe I said or did something I shouldn’t have.”

There is a small pause.

“You didn’t,” he says. “Nothing weird happened. Except maybe how fast you ran off afterward.”

You smile despite yourself. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, then look back at your hands. “Because I started overthinking things. You were just being nice, and I made it weird.”

He is quiet again for a moment. “I wasn’t just being nice.”

That makes your heart skip a little, but he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nudges your foot lightly with his. “Anyway, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

You nod. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Cool,” he says, leaning back slightly. “So… we good?”

You look at him, and something about the way he is watching you makes you feel lighter.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.”

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. You stay on that bench for a while longer, talking about random things—the weird subway ad you both hate, the café with terrible coffee he swears he only likes for the muffins.

And just before you leave, he glances at you and says, casual as ever, “Hey… let’s hang out next week. Like, properly.”

You blink. “Like… outside the train?”

It isn’t like you haven’t seen him outside other times, but this time it might be just you two. You and him.

DAY 99

The days passed quicker than you imagined.

You and Seungcheol still took the train to work together every day, but somewhere along the way, those commutes turned into something more. You started stopping by cafés on the way. Tried out that dinner place that had been all over your feed. Even ended up at an arcade once—half-tipsy from drinks at a pojangmacha tucked into the corner of some quiet street, laughing so hard you nearly cried when he lost to you in a dance battle.

Today, you stood on either side of a fogged-up train door.

Absentmindedly, you doodled a tiny smiley face on the glass with your finger. When you looked up, you caught Seungcheol doing the same—drawing a tiny heart just beside your smiley.

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled to yourself the rest of the way home.

Later that night, as you were drying your hair after a shower, your phone buzzed.

Seungcheol [9:13 PM] hey!! can we meet tomorrow?

You blink. Sit down on your bed and quickly type back:

You [9:13 PM] (indented) sure!! where tho??

It takes him a minute to reply.

Seungcheol [9:14 PM] (indented) there’s this garden café near dongmyo… it’s quiet and pretty at night. 7pm?

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

You [9:17 PM] sure 😊😙 see you then!

DAY 100

You are nervous as hell. You are sitting on one of the corner seats at the café, fiddling with your hair, smoothing down your skirt, rubbing your hands against your thighs like it will somehow calm your heartbeat.

Now you sit in that café, trying not to look at your phone every five seconds. He isn’t late. You are just early. Painfully, ridiculously early.

You dress up more than usual today—okay, a lot more.

A sheer, light mocha-brown ruched blouse with soft, billowy chiffon sleeves and a deep V neckline. A high-waisted, dark chocolate brown maxi skirt with a gentle drape and ruched detailing at the hip. You even do a winged eyeliner—after three failed attempts. You check the mirror at least ten times before finally forcing yourself out of the house.

Five minutes pass.

Then the bell over the café door chimes, and you instinctively look up.

There he is.

Seungcheol walks in, dressed in a warm chocolate-brown crew neck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. His hair bounces slightly as he moves, and somehow, he looks even better than you remember—soft and put-together and annoyingly, heart-flutteringly handsome.

You stand up as he reaches the table, and he gives you a breathless smile, holding out a small bouquet—white lisianthus and garden roses, sprinkled with baby’s breath.

“You’re early,” he says, just a little out of breath, eyes scanning your face and outfit in a way that makes your skin buzz.

You nod, shy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you.”

He chuckles softly. “Guess we’re both a little eager, huh?”

And just like that, the nervous weight in your chest lightens, bit by bit.

Dinner is perfect.

Seungcheol insists you try everything. Every time you so much as glance at something on the menu, he tells the waiter, “We’ll have that too.” Your table is overflowing with plates by the time the mains arrive, and you lose count of how many times he leans forward to ask if you are full, if you like it, if the dessert is too sweet.

He keeps spacing out mid-sentence, staring at you with this dazed, boyish look before shaking his head and mumbling, “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

You tease him for being distracted. He claims it is the lighting that makes him space out. You know it isn’t.

And even though he laughs and looks like he has everything together, you notice the way he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he checks his phone screen just to lock it again.

After dinner, the two of you step out onto the quiet street.

The rush has died down. The air has cooled just enough to make you pull your cardigan tighter. Street lamps cast soft glows on the pavement, and the sounds of the city fade to a distant hum—just footsteps, laughter from across the block, and the occasional car passing by.

You walk side by side. Close, but not touching.

Until he stops walking.

You turn to him. “Cheol?”

He looks nervous. Palms in his pockets, shoulders drawn in slightly, eyes fixed on the road like he is rehearsing something in his head.

Then he looks at you.

“I know this is random,” he starts. “Well—not random, but kind of sudden? Or maybe not. I mean, it’s been a hundred days. That’s a lot. But also not enough, I guess, to say something like this—but it also feels like it is.”

You blink. He isn’t making much sense.

Seungcheol takes a breath and scratches the back of his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He looks at you, really looks at you. “I like you. Like—really like you. More than a ‘train friend’ or a ‘text you memes at 11PM’ kind of way. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I kept waiting for the right time, and then today just feels like it. Because it’s special, right? A hundred days. And I—”

“Seungcheol.”

He keeps going. “—I mean, I didn’t want to make it weird, and maybe this is weird, and I’m talking too much—”

You step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes. Then melts. His hands hover for a second before resting gently on your back, holding you like he doesn’t quite believe you are real.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I like you too.”

It is quiet for a moment. His eyes search yours like he is waiting for you to take it back, like he has to double-check that he heard you right.

You smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d say something.”

A quiet relieved laugh slips from him.

Then, softer, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Seungcheol steps in close, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other hovering just beside your cheek like he is scared to touch you too fast. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he is memorizing you right here, under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp.

His fingers finally brush your jaw, a soft touch, careful—like you are something delicate. Your heart thuds in your chest, loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

Then, slowly, finally, he kisses you.

His lips are warm, soft, hesitant at first—testing the waters, afraid to mess it up. You tilt your head and lean in, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer, and he kisses you again—this time deeper, more certain.

There is just the feel of his lips on yours, the quiet rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, neither of you say a word. Not yet.

The night is quiet around you, just the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlamps, and the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

He finally speaks, voice low, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is.

“Do you know what today is?”

You smile. “A hundred days.”

He nods. “A hundred days of you. Of seeing you on the train. Of wanting to say more, stay longer.”

You blink up at him, heart full.

“I want more,” he says, thumb brushing your cheek. “Not just another hundred. I want all of them. Every day.”

You lean in, kiss him one more time.

And as you stand there, in the middle of a quiet street with the man who used to be just a stranger on the train. You think the next morning, the train will still come.

And this time, you’ll be boarding it—hand in hand.

BONUS - SEUNGCHEOL’S POV (DAY 1)

The train pulls in, slowing with that familiar screech of metal. Seungcheol leans against the glass panel, one hand in his pocket, headphones in, watching people come and go.

Then she steps on.

He doesn’t recognize her — she’s new, at least to him. She looks around for a moment; the seats, the windows, the slow-moving scenery outside. There’s no rush in her expression, just quiet observation.

She finds a spot across from him, steadying herself on the rail as the train lurches forward. For a while, she just watches the buildings go by, eyes calm, thoughtful.

Then she pulls out her phone, scrolling through something, expression soft and unreadable.

He looks away, pretending to focus on the song playing through his headphones. But it’s hard not to notice her — how she stands a bit straighter than everyone else, how she seems almost peaceful even with the crowd pressing around her.

She doesn’t look at him. Not once. Or so he thinks.

Still, he catches himself checking.

And then the train keeps moving, same as always.

He hopes to see her tomorrow too.

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aboudgazaa · 4 months ago

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themaynard · 28 days ago

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thegeorgehathersage · 2 years ago

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marvelouslymarly · 1 month ago

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Middle of the Night (Bob Reynolds x female!reader)

This is part 2 to my After Midnight fic with Bob Reynolds - read part 1 here

Masterlist

Rated: E for Explicit! MDNI!!!

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x female!reader

Summary: After having you for the first time, Bob can't seem to stop thinking about having you again.

CW: as always mild thunderbolts spoiler warning since this is set after the events of the film; 90% of this is pure smut (horny Bob (like, it's bad how needy he is); fingering; unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it, guys :*); choking; the smallest hint at cockwarming right at the end there...); some angst and a little bit of fluff... But mostly just pure and filthy smut, again: MDNI :) [not beta-read bc I wanted to get this out to you asap]

Word count: 4.6k

Hope you enjoy!!! Reblogs and feedback appreciated <3

You felt secure with Bob’s hands resting on your tummy, your chest rising and falling softly, no reason to be scared or tense with him holding you close. There was no activity in the Watchtower apart from the two of you cuddling, enjoying each other’s company without the need to speak. After the events of the evening, your body had felt tired in a different way. It was a physical exhaustion that you weren’t used to. A satisfied fatigue leaving your limbs heavy, your core still sending tiny aftershocks through your extremities. There was a pleasant warmth emanating from Bob, his chest brushing against your back softly with every inhale. Your brain had quieted, no haunting thoughts running through your brain, only the sound of Bob’s calm breaths and the occasional kiss on your shoulder or the slope of your neck. His fingers were drawing lazy patterns on your skin and your own were running up and down his arms.

“I wanna stay like this forever,” your voice was low, scared that if you talked too loudly this serene moment would dissolve.

You took his hand and kissed the back of it, your fingers playing with his for a second before intertwining. Laying with him felt like second nature. Your bodies fit together perfectly, his the perfect big spoon to your little one. Your legs were tangled lazily, just as if this was how you were supposed to exist. With Bob by your side, your skin pressed up to his. As if everything that had happened in your life was leading you to this moment, leading you to Bob.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he agreed quietly, his voice already laced with sleep. He nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent, a content hum falling from his lips. “You smell so good, love. Like summer rain and heaven.”

You smiled to yourself and turned around slowly, your leg slipping over his side and your hand moving up to cup his cheek. You kissed him softly, your eyes fluttering shut when your lips met his, and he pulled you even closer. He deepened the kiss, one of his hands in your hair, the other on the small of your back and you slipped your tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t a hungry and eager kiss like the ones before, it was slow and reverent, both of you too tired to ravish the other one. You tasted each other, teeth sinking into the other’s bottom lip slowly. Your hands held onto each other, digging into the other’s skin with soft determination as if to memorise the hills and valleys of the other’s figure.

When you pulled apart again, his hand was on your cheek, holding you in place, his forehead resting against yours, while you caught your breaths. There were content smiles on your lips, kiss-bitten and full.

Bob rolled onto his back, pulling you with him to rest against his side. Your head moved to lie on his chest and you closed your eyes, listening to the soft thump of his heart beating rhythmically under your ear. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then put his cheek to it, holding you close.

You drifted off like this, his right arm slung over your hip and his left hand holding yours, your fingers intertwined. Your dreams were calm ones, of easy times and comfortable moments. Of moments like this one. Lazy weekends spent lounging and reading on the couch with him. Sunset strolls on the river bank, holding hands and laughing at small things. Coffee dates at your favourite café down the street.

When you woke up a little later, Bob had turned away from you, whimpers leaving his lips. You put out your hand, looking for the switch of the bedside lamp, and then you turned it on, giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the bright light. Your eyes searched the bed, and you let out a sad sigh when you saw Bob, lying on the edge of the bed, his back turned to you, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

“Hey, Bob, I’m here. It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered, moving up to him and carefully placing your hand on his shoulder before turning him onto his back. His mouth was hanging open a little and his brows were furrowed in what you interpreted was fear. But then his brows pulled up and a low moan left his mouth, his hand running over his leg and to his hardening dick. Your cheeks heated and your heart calmed down, realising what he must’ve been dreaming about.

His arm moved to cover his eyes and his hips bucked into his own touch. Your name rolled off his tongue in a low growl and you covered your mouth, biting down on your lip at the sight in front of you, arousal starting to build between your legs. Bob’s hand ran through his hair and his teeth sank his into his lip, a heavy breath leaving his flared nostrils.

“Mhm, just like that, babe…”

He palmed at himself a few times, groaning and whimpering, the veins on his forearms popping. Your free hand made its way between your legs, and then he startled awake, sitting up straight and his eyes wide. His gaze flitted around frantically and then met yours, his Adam’s apple bopping in a heavy gulp.

“Hi,” you chuckled, your hand falling from your mouth.

His cheeks turned a bright pink and Bob fell backwards, covering his face with both of his hands, groaning embarrassed.

“Oh, god,” he mumbled from behind his hands and turned on his stomach, trying to hide his shame from you. “I am so sorry, [y/n].”

“What for,” you asked and laid across his back, kissing his shoulder blade softly. You ran your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and tried to catch a peek at his face.

“That you had to witness… that,” he grumbled and turned his face to the side. “And that I woke you up.”

“Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about this!” You smiled at him sincerely and kissed his cheek gently. “I think it's kinda sweet that you were dreaming about me.”

“‘Sweet?’ Oh, great,” he complained and turned his face away from you again.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed and pouted. “I just meant that… I’ve never… seen someone have a sex dream about me,” you added and sat back down on your side of the bed.

This made Bob turn around, pulling up his leg to hide his hard-on while sitting up as well, looking at you confused.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m serious.” You shrugged and let your eyes travel over his naked body. “Is there something you want me to do?”

You let your fingers walk up his leg and pushed him back down onto the mattress, hovering over him. Bob looked up at you, your hair falling around your face, and he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin. His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed his lips together in a thin lip while your fingers ran up the inside of his thigh.

“Maybe you could tell me what we did in that dream of yours,” you offered, your voice sultry and low as you leaned down to him.

When his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown, most of the blue taken over by the black of his pupils, and you smirked, brushing the tip of your nose against his. He pulled you down, closing the distance and crashing his lips to yours before turning you over. His left leg slotted between yours, his hard dick pressing against your thigh and you gasped into the kiss at his weight on top of you.

“I’d rather show you,” he muttered and dropped his face to the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the pulsating spot under your ear. He leaned on his fist by your side and his free hand slipped between your legs, a low chuckle leaving his lips, sending vibrations down your spine. “So wet already, doll?”

You turned your face to the side, giving him more access to your neck, and nodded in agreement, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his fingers running through your folds. His thumb moved to your clit and your hips met his touch eagerly.

Bob burrowed his face in your hair, his middle finger slipping into your hole easily with a wet squelch, and a smug groan rolled off his tongue. “So needy, huh?”

“I want you so bad, Bob,” you breathed, already a little light-headed. You were still a little tender from the rounds earlier that night, so when he slipped in a second finger with the next thrust of his hand, you yelped a little, one of your hands moving to his wrist.

“You okay, baby?” He purred into your ear and then moved to look into your eyes, not moving his fingers until you looked at him, too. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” There was softness to the low gravel of his voice and his eyebrows knitted together in a furrow.

“No, it’s ok,” you assured and nodded, smiling at the tenderness in his eyes. “I’m ok.”

“Tell me if I should stop,” he told you and kissed you, his lips moving against yours masterfully.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and slowly started to move his fingers again. The movements were cautious but deliberate, his fingers curling at the right moment before slipping back in deeper again. The pain you’d felt at first slowly turned into pleasure, your breath hitching when his fingertips brushed against the spot deep inside of you. His lips split into a smirk against yours and you simply nodded, your brain foggy from kissing him and the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“That’s it, baby.”

You looked down at where his hand was between your legs, another moan escaping you, and you let go of his wrist, your hand running up his arm and clawing at his shoulder when his hips started to grind into your leg.

“Take me,” you whimpered into his ear when his forehead fell to your shoulder, the familiar feeling of your nearing orgasm spreading through your lower stomach. Your free hand moved between your bodies and wrapped around his erection, pumping up and down his length.

“Are you sure?” His voice was but a whimper at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his dick and his fingers slipped out of you, leaving you feeling empty again.

You nodded, your hips twisting to his, and kissed him hungrily. Bob moved on top of you, your hand slipping from around his dick and his hips positioning themselves between your legs, and you moaned when his dick brushed against your sensitive cunt. He looked down between you and, without any warning, pushed into you, his hand covering your mouth in anticipation of the loud gasp leaving you.

“Shhh, baby. We gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t want the others to find out what we’re doing, right?” He placed a kiss on your cheek and then rolled his hips back, almost pulling his erection all the way out of you, only to thrust back in a second later.

Your back arched against his chest and your head lolled back at the feeling of him filling you up so well.

“You feel so good around my cock, doll,” he groaned into your ear, the grip of his hand on your hip getting tighter, his restraint from drilling into you waning with everything second. “So wet and fucking tight.” You could hear the pride in his voice and when you met his gaze from the corner of your eyes, you made out the tiniest hint of gold gleaming in his dark eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter and rolled your hips against his, making him slip into you further and feeling his balls at your ass. His head fell down against your shoulder again and you let out a chuckle, his hand still covering your mouth and muffling the sound.

“Oh, you think this is funny, love?” His hand moved to your chin and he turned your head, making you look at him. The gold had fully taken over what was left of the blue around his pupils and you gulped, unable to hide the smirk on your face. Bob pulled his hips back, sliding out of you completely, and he flipped you over. His hand moved to your wrists and he held them tight, while he pulled you up onto your knees to have your hips meet his, your face buried in the pillow.

You tried to look over your shoulder but then he thrust into you again, harder than before and bottoming out, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing through the room. Your eyes squeezed shut against the sweet pain and you bit into the pillow, muffling the moan you couldn’t control. His hand wrapped around your hip and he started thrusting into you relentlessly. The tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot and you arched your back, pushing your hips into his desperate to get even more friction.

“You take me so well, baby,” he groaned into your ear, leaning over your back and drilling you into the mattress. You struggled against the grip on your wrists and he let go a little, allowing you to dig your fingers into the bedsheets before putting his hand on yours. Your other hand snaked around his head and you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his head close to yours, so he could hear the sweet noises he was evoking from you.

“You like that,” he growled, his voice turning up at the end in a question, and the hand that had previously sat on his hip moved around to your front, the pad of his middle finger connecting with your swollen clit.

A high-pitched moan slipped past your lips and you met his movements, your orgasm approaching fast at the pace of his thrusts. Your legs started to shake and he chuckled, adjusting his arm to carry more of your weight and supporting you better.

“Can you hold on for a moment longer, love, mhm?” His voice was hot against your ear and you shook your head, already feeling the first wave of your orgasm about to hit.

“You feel too good, Bob,” you whimpered, and the grip on his locks tightened when his dick brushed against your g-spot once more, your orgasm washing over you. Your walls clenched around his length and you could feel tears running down the bridge of your nose at the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“That’s it, baby.” The movements of his hips grew sloppier, letting you know that he wasn’t far behind.

He rode out your orgasm and then his hips stopped suddenly, his dick buried deep inside you, while he came, a string of swear words falling from his lips. You could feel his warm cum trickle down the back of your thigh while he continued to thrust in and out of you, riding the highs of his own climax, while his fingers were working on your clit, sending sparks through your entire body.

When he was done, he collapsed next to you after placing you on the mattress softly, and then pulled you close to him again. You curled up against his front and pulled his hand up to kiss his fingers one at a time, trying to catch your breath. His other hand ran through your hair and then trailed down your arm, his touch soft and lovingly.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes, a content hum leaving your lips. “No, it was just right.”

Bob placed tiny kisses on the top of your shoulder, slowly moving up the slope of your neck and then he buried his head in your neck again.

“God, you smell absolutely divine right now,” he mumbled against your ear, and inhaled again, his hand flattening on your tummy, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, sleep trying to pull you back into dreamland. Before your eyelids grew too heavy, you turned your head a little and started:

“Hey, Bob?”

He moved against your back and grumbled sleepily before kissing your cheek and telling you he’s awake.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for… you know…” You stopped for a second, fighting sleep and rubbing your eyes. “For having sex dreams about me or getting yourself off, ok?” You turned around and cuddled up against his chest, looking up at him from under your lashes and going on: “Or you can always wake me up if you need something, yeah?”

He averted his gaze, his cheeks turning pink again and you ran your finger over his cheek. After a moment of considering what you said, he nodded and then met your eyes again, something heavy lingering behind them.

“What’s up, love?” Your smile fell and you moved up a little to be on the same level with him.

“It’s just that… ever since the trial…”, he trailed off, his gaze wandering through the room for a moment before he closed his eyes. He scratched the side of his face with the back of his hand and then took a deep breath, his chin quivering a little.

“Ever since the trial, every feeling I had… It’s just all so much more intense and my brain - it gets so loud. Like… It did that before, too, you know? But now, it’s like the dials have all been turned up to a hundred. And it’s constant,” he explained and his eyes opened again, tears brimming at his bottom lid.

“Oh, Bob.” You sat up and pulled the pillow you had claimed up to rest your back against, before placing his in your lap. You patted the pillow softly, motioning for him to put his head in your lap, and when he did, your fingers started to run through his dark locks, brushing them out of his face and smoothing them down the back of his head.

“And I feel like, now that I’ve had you… You’re all I can think about. How you taste… how you sound and how you feel.” He looked at you, a lonely tear running down his cheek. “And god, it makes me feel so… like there’s something wrong with me.” His voice broke at the end there and his shoulders started to quake, a sob breaking from his lips.

“There isn’t anything wrong with you, Bob.” Your thumb ran over his cheek, brushing away the tears rolling down the hills of his face, and you pulled up the covers, tucking him in a little. “I don’t mind, really.” His eyes flitted to yours as if to say that he didn’t believe you and he turned his head, facing away from you.

“I know, your brain is probably telling you the opposite right now…”, you tried, your fingers running over his shoulder and down his arm to take his hand in yours, and then continued: “but I don’t get anything from lying to you about this… I don’t want you to beat yourself up about the fact that you get a little horny about me from time to time.”

“Oh, if it was only ‘from time to time’,” he scoffed and wiped away the tears, sitting up next to me. He looked at you then, searching for any sign that you weren’t telling the truth. When he couldn’t find any, he sighed and nodded, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Well, like I said, if there’s ever anything I can help you with…” You leaned over to him, wrapping your fingers around his chin and lifting it a little to make him meet your eyes. “You can always come to me or wake me up. If you need a cuddle… or a shoulder to cry on… or, whatever, I’ll always be there for you!”

You kissed him softly, the salty taste of tears on his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His hands held onto you, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your shoulders, as sobs broke from him.

You had worried about this when you’d seen the gold in his eyes earlier, knowing that if the Sentry came out, the Void wouldn’t be far behind. You’d seen him struggle with this a few times in the last months since moving into the Watchtower but this meltdown broke your heart even more. You’d never been this close to him during a bad episode since that group hug in the lab-shame room. You’d never felt his body shake like this against your own, his nails leaving halfmoon shapes in your skin. And hearing the whimpers and cries leaving his lips tore at your heart.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly, shushing him softly, and pulled him into your lap, rocking back and forth.

~~~

When you woke up the next time, his lips were on your shoulder blade, fluttering over your skin, leaving behind soft, open-mouth kisses, while his fingers were dancing up your bare legs. His hard dick was pressing up against your ass, and he groaned against your back, his fingers digging into your thigh, while he tried to keep his hips from grinding into you. Burrowing his head in your hair, he sank his teeth into your neck, his breathing heavy already.

“Babe, are you awake,” he asked, his voice barely a whisper and you nodded, still half asleep. “God, I’m so sorry,” he grunted and bucked his hips, his length brushing against your core. You moaned sleepily, arching your back a little, and felt yourself getting wet again.

“I don’t know how to…”, he whimpered and his left hand slipped between your thighs while the other one glided under the shirt he’d given you to sleep in. “I need you…” His voice was filled with desperation, with need, and it went straight to your core.

His right hand cupped your breast and squeezed it, the pad of his thumb drawing circles over your hardening nipple. Your body, still sensitive from the last round and those before, reacted by sending sparks through you, the arousal pooling between your legs in anticipation while his fingers were playing with your clit. His movements were sloppier than before but it didn’t matter because your nerve endings felt like they were on fire, every stroke over your clit waking you up a little more from the slumber clinging to your brain.

“Can I…” He started carefully, his hips stationary behind you, his cock waiting patienty. His fingers slid through your folds with an obscenely wet squelch, and he moaned into your ear. You nodded again, your eyes fluttering shut from both exhaustion and pleasure.

You weren’t used to feeling this needy yourself, your past relationships barely lasting long enough to offer the possibility of multiple rounds in one night. Before, having sex with someone was about taking the edge off, it wasn’t about being with the person you were fucking. It didn’t matter who they were, just that they could get you that relief you needed so badly.

But with Bob, something had changed. Even with multiple orgasms in one night, you still felt the need burning deep inside of you. You needed to feel him. His fingers. His tongue. His teeth. You needed him to fill you up, balls deep inside of you and fucking you senseless. And you needed him to do it over and over again. You needed to moan his name, knowing that he was yours and that you were his.

His arm snaked around your hip tighter, changing the angle at which his hand slid between your thighs, and you buried your face when his fingers slipped into you. This time, he didn’t wait to add the second one but pushed it in right with the first one. A breathy moan fell from your lips and your hand moved down, fingers digging into his arm. His fingers thrusted into you, wet sounds filled the room and you could feel your cheeks heat at how soaked you were for him.

“Fuck, you sound so good, all wet and slick,” he groaned into your ear and kissed your neck, his fingers keeping the pace of pumping in and out of you and curling at the right moment.

When he felt that you were prepared enough, he pulled his fingers out again, and brought them up to his mouth, licking off your juices, one finger at a time. “You taste so good, so sweet, baby,” he purred, his voice dark with lust.

A satisfied hum fell from his lips and he kissed your shoulder blade again, his hand moving between you to line his dick up with your pussy. He pushed his hips forward, slipping in a little before he pulled back out and angled your hips a little. With his next thrust, his dick glided into you in one go, his balls settling against your ass, and Bob buried his head in your hair, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He tried to catch his breath for a moment, his grip on your hip holding you in place, before he pulled back his hips again slowly. The hand on your breast moved up your chest, pushing up the shirt, and then his fingers wrapped around your throat carefully, making sure to not push too hard on your larynx.

Bob thrusted back in and you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder. He got started with a steady pace and every time a moan dared to fall from your lips, his hand would close a little more around your throat. Your head was getting foggy from the pleasure of his dick filling you to the brim, and you moved your hip against his, trying to get more friction, your climax building quickly.

“So fucking good, baby,” he whimpered and picked up speed, his movements growing sloppier as he was approaching his own release.

Your hand moved between your legs and you bit down on your lower lip when the tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot right as your finger connected with your clit.

“Love it when you touch yourself while I fuck you, doll.”

His teeth sank into your ear lobe and you let out a choked yelp, feeling the first sparks of your orgasm rushing through your body. His cock twitched inside you as your walls clamped around his length, and you stilled, the intensity of your high too much for you. Bob chuckled deeply behind you and held onto you tightly, his warm cum coating the inside of your pussy once more, while he kept rutting into you.

Once he was done riding out your shared climax, his right hand fell from around your throat and caressed the spots his fingers had dug into your skin. Bob covered your shoulder in hot, open-mouthed kisses and massaged your shaking legs with his left hand, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He didn’t motion to pull his half-erect dick out of you, just nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck as his hand reached over to the bedside table to get a tissue for cleaning you up from your mixed arousal leaking out of you. His touch was soft, as to not overstimulate you any further, and your eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion hitting you hard all of a sudden.

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt his fingers run through your hair and heard his voice near your ear, a soft ‘sleep well, love’ followed by a kiss to your cheek sending you off to a calm and dreamless slumber.

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sparklingself · 1 year ago

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓

daily reflections #5

Let go of control. This is one of the most important realisations you can have.

You've likely encountered the following: you want something really bad. You imagine the wish-fulfilled. You're fulfilled for a second. But then you start checking the outer-world. Is it here yet? Why isn't it here yet? What can I do to make it come? You're unfulfilled again. You couldn't trust in your imagination. You resorted to fear and the need for control.

You might be inclined to imagine again and again and again in hopes of actually realising it. You're not actually fulfilling yourself. You're not trusting. You're coming from fear and anxiety, not acceptance.

Developing trust can take time. An understanding of the law and regular practice of it aids your finding of trust.

It can be discouraging to imagine for weeks, months, years, decades and not see results.

The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be, of already having what you desire. (Neville)

It will come about in a natural way. In such a way that at first you might not realise it was your own imagination the induced the event. It will come when you least expect it.

Naturalness is achieved through the state of wish-fulfilled and persistence in it. This doesn't mean compulsively imagining at every minute, but rather achieving a state of mind where you trust in it. That is the naturalness Neville is speaking of. Success or failure is entirely in your own hands.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. (Psalms 23:4)

Even though you might endure the worst circumstances, you will fear nothing for God (self, imagination) is with you and will comfort you. This is the point of this all. To feel good. To curate a paradise within yourself. Fear nothing, as it is all you.

Whatever happens outwardly, let it be. Just fulfil yourself within. And know, in peace, that this inner-fulfilment will inevitably lead to outer-fulfilment. But the outer-fulfilment and the "how" is not important right now. Right now it's important to merely feel the loveliness of self. That's what brings true happiness.

#loa #loassumption #law of assumption #neville goddard #mental diet #self concept #living in the end #affirm and persist #law of attraction #manifestation #manifesting #law of abundance #law of manifestation #manifest #edward art #spirituality #void state #meditation

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wosofutbolfan · 6 months ago

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I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”.

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch.

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world.

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow.

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band.

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.”

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening, to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.”

You let out.

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks.

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other.

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”.

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp.

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife. It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips. You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was.

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour.

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs.

“We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh.

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you.

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face.

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration.

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!” you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm.

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game. You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok. The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso community

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blueblossomrose · 7 months ago

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This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, marriage, children, household contents, afab!fem!MC, general hcs.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Resume HCs [7]

Upon assuming the throne as king of Briar Valley, many things were expected of Malleus.

His marriage to a human was definitely NOT one of those things.

Well, it's not like any of those opinions matter.

Fortunately Queen Maleficia on the other hand doesn't seem bothered about it or about Malleus imminent marriage with MC, Lilia and Silver are happy, also as Sebek.

The royal wedding was an event. For a variety of reasons, you can imagine.

MC and Malleus have a daughter together named Aurora. A few years later they had twin sons: Magnus and Kyrval.

He planned to go far away even before graduation, but something made him rethink it... this "something" is Malleus, Silver and MC.

Of course, he didn't want all the work of Briar Valley to fall on him like it had been all these years. Fortunately, with Malleus taking the throne, changes would come. Good changes, he hoped.

After marriage, he was booking a house in a more remote location, but close to the essential points.

He is a stay-at-home husband, and he is happy that way.

Silver was happy for his father. He believes that Lilia deserves to be happy, and if MC makes him happy, it's everything fine.

MC and Lilia have triplets, all girls: Arista, Aisha and Adela. Lilia said he wanted they all to have an "A". The reason? He said he would say it on their 16th birthday.

He officially became a royal guard after graduation and years of training.

He was fine and happy with it. Following the calling he had been trained to be his whole life. And with that, so was his girlfriend, MC.

He wanted to have a house first and foremost, one he bought with his own money.

When he succeeded, the marriage proposal was the next step.

Lilia was supporting him in every way, and that was enough for him. The same for Malleus.

He and MC have a daughter: Hanna.

Like Silver, Sebek took his post as royal guard proudly.

He introduced his girlfriend to his family. His parents and older siblings were happier than ever, the same could not be said for Baul... but Sebek was already prepared for this. He didn't care. He would marry MC, and that would be that.

After the proposal, he went looking for a house.

He was happy and cheerful to give you the news. He had to get a house closer to the castle to carry out his duties, but valuing MC's safety, he decided to get a little more hidden one.

MC and Sebek have two children: a boy named Ivan and a girl named Amelie.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twst #twst mc #♡ twisted parents. au #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x female reader #diasomnia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland x fem reader

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2cupids · 6 months ago

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CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF YOU | CHOI SAN

warnings. oral (f. receiving), semi public sex, car sex, panty sniffing, panties used a gäg, sqüirting, san is pssydrunk honestly. mdni (17+).

san couldn’t keep his hands off you the entirety of the event tonight, which meant the moment the chauffeur opens the door for you both to get inside the limousine, san is all over you.

his hands roam the expanse of your body and once the partition is up, he’s got you trapped underneath him with a hand wedged between your thighs, resting against your core.

he’s in your ear whispering all the dirty thoughts that crossed his mind every time he glanced at your figure in this dress. but san’s a gentleman, always has been, and he’s always been fairly good at controlling his desires in public. he kept his urges under control and stood by as your proud husband while your name was called multiple times throughout the night to receive awards, even though all he wanted to do was bend you over and stuff his face in your sweet cunt to show you just how proud he was of you.

his warm tongue traces a line down to your collarbone where he kisses and nips at your skin. his thick middle and ring fingers rub your clit through the material of your pantyhose and underwear, drawing small circles over the nub.

it’s not long before you can feel him growing hard against your leg, his cock straining against his black slacks just from touching you, teasing you. the feeling of his aching hard-on is torturous, but he refrains from rutting against your leg like a dog in heat, refusing to give into his own needs.

he continues kissing further down your skin until his lips press against the skin located between the valley of your breasts in the low cut neckline of your dress. san made a promise to himself not to have fun with you in the cramped quarters of the backseat, but he can’t help it. he wants more of you, he needs more.

san lifts his head and pulls away from your chest, sitting back on his knees. he admires your body and the way you look every time a streetlight shines through the tinted glass of the back windows as you pass by them. he has to suppress a moan that nearly slips past his lips and he gives his dick a small squeeze through his pants to try and give himself some relief.

his hands rest on opposite sides of your hips before sliding down and disappearing underneath your dress. you lift your hips and let him tug down your stockings and panties. he throws the stockings on the floor, but he keeps your underwear in his hand and brings them up to his nose, inhaling deeply and letting your scent fill his nostrils.

you tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch your husband sniff your underwear and you squeeze your thighs together. his action sends another wave of arousal through your body, increasing the amount of wetness that’s pooling between your legs.

san leans over you again, bringing his face next to your ear. “you know how much i love hearing you, right, baby? but i’m sure you can understand where i'm coming from when i say that no one else deserves to hear those pretty noises.”

before you can register what he’s talking about, he takes hold of your jaw and gently forces your mouth open, wadding your panties into a ball and stuffing them in your mouth. you’re a bit disappointed and taken back by his actions, and your eyebrows draw together to indicate to him that you’re frowning. the pout makes san smile and he apologies, he kisses the corner of your mouth in hopes for your forgiveness. he manhandles you into position and spreads your legs open as he settles down in between the place he’s been yearning to be the entire evening.

he licks his lips while eyeing your glistening core. he snaps out of the trance that was brought about from simply eyeing your pussy and doesn't waste another minute, attacking your pussy with his mouth.

normally, san would take his time with you, slowly building up pleasure and giving you time to really feel him and everything he was doing to you.

but not tonight.

he’s eager, his lips are wrapped around your clit as he sucks and flicks his tongue back and forth over the bundle of nerves. occasionally he takes time to lick up the expanse of your core, starting from your entrance up to your clit before repeating the act. in other words, san’s eating you out like a man starved. he can’t stop moaning and groaning into your pussy as he palms his dick through his pants.

your body can barely handle how much pleasure he’s giving you all at once and the feeling of your orgasm approaching starts to build up in your lower stomach. your attempts to push san’s head away so you don’t come so soon are no use because it’s like he’s glued to your pussy. he physically can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet.

your thighs tremble around his head and your breathing starts coming in short. you’ve given up trying to push him away and prepare for your impending orgasm.

the pressure continues building and you find yourself grinding against his face, which causes even more precum to leak from his reddened tip and onto his boxers. he takes it up a notch by slipping two fingers between your soaking wet folds and that’s when the pressure in your lower abdomen explodes, pushing you over the edge and making you come.

you feel a strong urge to pee, but barely pay it attention as your mind goes foggy with intense pleasure. it’s not until a few moments later when you open your eyes and faintly see what looks to be san’s wet face looking up at you in the darkness of the limousine.

you don’t register what happened at first and then it finally hits you. you squirted. all over his face.

san’s eyes light up as he sees the moment of realization hit you and he takes your balled up panties out your mouth.

“i- i’m so sorry, san. i didn’t mean you.” you whisper with a slightly hoarse voice. you cover you face with both hands, embarrassed by how your body reacted.

san moves to sit on the seat next to you and pulls you into his arms, telling you there’s no reason to be embarrassed. he found it amazing what your body was able to do and he takes pride in knowing that he was able to make you do squirt.

he finally convinces you to uncover your face and you watch in surprise as he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of his face covered in your fluids.

he removes the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes his face dry before leaning in to kiss you. he pulls away slightly, but his lips stay close to yours for a moment. his hand starts lightly caressing your thigh as he cranes his neck to bring his face close to your ear.

“when we get home, you’ll me recreate that little scene again, yeah? you know i can never get enough of you anyways... but i have to see how many more times i can make that pretty pussy squirt.”

author’s note! merry christmas and happy holidays! this is my (very late) christmas present to y’all. i swear i didn’t mean to post this late asf but anyways. love you guys and hope you enjoyed this 💗💗.

#𐙚 .. 2cupids #ateez smut #choi san #san smut #choi san smut #ateez hard hours #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #kpop smut #ateez x black reader #kpop x reader #kpop x black reader #fem reader #x fem reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez reactions

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velaenam · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, tba notes – not proofread. ok due to my stupidity, i forgot caleb spoke on his graduation. lore purposes, the gala you were at was NOT the graduation ceremony… u simply did not attend that..tehe… 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

couple weeks later

you rub your temples, peering into your notes and eating your burrito. it was friday night and you were knee deep in paperwork, once again. “thrust vector.. 2.3 degrees starboard. okay. compensates for drift, something something peak climb rate–” you flip through another page, scanning quickly, “thermals peaked at… 1785, not 2000.. failure points lower than expected..blah blah stress limits– got it.” you give a short pause, furrowing your brows as you read, “coolings-” – “babes what the fuck are you on about.” stacias valley-esque tone rumbles through your facetime call. you looked up from the phone and you had forgotten you were in a 4 way conversation with your friends from the group chat, everybody doing their own thing.

you shook your head, a worn smile plastered on your face, “sorry– was just checking some notes from work.” you inform, signing off on a couple of things before you close your book. you huff, exhausted, and thinking on what you should do next. as you grab to scroll through your phone stacia gasps, “oh! hey! i know its been like a hot hot minute, but remember when you said you had some like info you wanted to share with us. … like a month ago?” stacia sings, and your other friends chuckle at her, seemingly interested all of the sudden. as much as you hate to admit, your hot gossip wasn’t as frequent as the other ladies, so when you had something to say, all eyes and ears perk up on you. you rolled your eyes, pursing your lips, “so like remember when i went to the aviation gala?” – “uh yeah. the one with hot fucking guys and women that you didn’t want us going to?” stacia states matter-o-factly, you roll your eyes at her before continuing, “because its a top security event you idiot– but you dont wanna hear that” you chuckled, “ – there was this hot- and i mean sexy hot, mister ten, knockout man there. purple eyes, brown hair, tall. big broad shoulders– i mean he was big.” you emphasize with your hands, this was the giddiest everybody got, awoo and whistle and all, “i was going to maybe go talk to him– but his fucking girlfriend was there! they kissed.i was so fucking mad ” stacia rolled her eyes at you falling to her bed, “of course the dreamboat has a girlfriend already– i’m sick!! did you at least get his name?!” – “fuck no! i said fuck all that, i’m not interested anymore.”

you were a ride or die for a woman till the end. you have had your crazy run in’s with men who were married-but-not-married or we’re-in-a-rough-spot and you didn’t want any public reputation that you had tarnished. it was one thing being scrutinized by the public, but its another being scrutinized by your family. and you certainly weren’t going to bat as a mistress nor be responsible for a broken family.

“i could cry for you.” one of the girls said as she fakes a sob, and the three of you mourn over the possibility of a hunk. you quickly recoil from it and plan your brunch for sunday– a longstanding tradition you had with your friends. a morning filled with sexy servers delicious meals, episodes of island love and bottomless mimosas. now normally some may say, that’s a bit excessive, yea? no! you live to work, not work to live– even though you dont build a good case for yourself– with all those all nighters you’ve pulled, and all the extra days you went in, but you did it for the love of the game.

stacia is a social media manager for a big company, talia is a professor, and marina is an engineer as well.

you met stacia when you were at a convention, and she hit on you. you both bonded over the sexy farspace fleet hunks in their uniform that walked by you two. completely normal interactions. eventually you exchanged numbers and became inseparable ever since.

talia met you when you and your co-founder mark were giving a presentation on something regarding jet engines to the aerospace cadets in the university she was teaching in.

and you met marina at the park on your walk. she came up to you to compliment your outfit and you hit it off.

it was a solid group. your friendship is going 5+ years strong, and you couldn’t be any happier. you loved your girls, and you all pitched the sunday brunch idea for a way to reward yourselves for the hard week you all mightve had. it was a way to give thanks amongst yourselves, and you wanted nothing more than healthy interactions.

“soo theres this website thats taken off recently. its sorta like a blind date type of situation. you’re not allowed to put your real name on there, and you can either call or text– but if you call its a voice changer so the person doesnt know what you really sound like. its kind of cool actually. you write down your interest and you can match that way or you can leave it blank and match with someone completely random.”

this prospect piques your interest the slightest. you listen intently as you sip your mimosa awaiting for stacia to continue, she notices your immediate interest and her evil ass grin widens, “something tells me this is perfect for our miss ceo.” – “i mean this is literally perfect for you. its like AA but dating.”

caleb was resting in his bed when his roommates came in, rambunctious, as always. he loved his friends- dearly, but for the life of them, they had poor volume control.

he groans turning his back to them, trying to continue his thoughts as one of them threw a pillow at him, “yo get up. you promised a game!” he laughs, as he grabs calebs arm off his head. caleb looks up at him, a sheepish grin as he reluctantly goes to join his friends in a game of basketball.

“theres some new website thats going around, some anonymous chat. we should try to find each other on it.” one of his friends mused, taking the ball from caleb. another one piques, “that sounds fun. whats it called?” – “whispr? just came out like a week ago.”

caleb couldn’t help but agree that he should (for once) partake in this shenanigan his friends had suggested. he had been starting to feel lonely lately. unable to see his pipsqueak and gran, and always working so much in the aviation unit. it was tiring him out, but he really did enjoy the experience, and not to mention the pay was superb- especially the pay bump from the administration recently.

the group plays for a couple more hours, before he breaks away from them. he wanted to go for a run before he retired for the night, just to clear his thoughts once more. he really couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness. he never understood why, hence, the plagued thoughts, but he did well to hide it.

a mile into the run he stops, sweat beads falling from his face, his shirt wet with moisture, as he cools down he takes a slow walk, breathing in the air around him. he was in one of the districts of skyhaven. how he ended up here was beyond him, he was just running.

as he walks he notices a couple with their children coming out of the store. it warmed his heart seeing the sight of. the little girl holding her dads hand, her little digits managing to barely envelope half his pinky. dressed in a cute pink dress with a tiara. the mom holding the girls other hand, and the babies treat in the other. they look both ways before crossing, and she bounces around, giggling all the way.

he wished that was him. he wanted kids so bad.

caleb shakes his head, smiling at the thought, and continuing his walk after that moment. he stops a moment, before checking his phone. his hand hovers over the app store, and types in ‘whispr’ on the search bar. he sucks a breath in. did it come this far that hes resorting to texting strangers? couldn’t he just text his beloved pipsqueak? she’s probably on a mission, or asleep.

as he almost hits ‘back’ on his phone the app finishes installing, and he stares at it. ‘well.. fuck it i guess..’ he opens it and hes met with a purple screen

‘whispr - 83,358 online’

‘damn’ he clicks on the ‘create-a-profile’ tab and looks through the information,

‘welcome to whispr. whispers from strangers– soft, mysterious, and personal.

text random strangers, whether you have shared interests or just feeling up to randomly connecting with someone. feeling bold? call a stranger! but don’t worry, your voice is changed. you still retain your anonymity. we encourage everybody to keep their personal information hidden. you enjoyed the conversation? ask to remain mutuals! otherwise- chats disappear within 24 hours. do not give out information you do not want revealed. stay safe, take care, and thanks for using whispr!’

caleb shrugs, continuing through the second page, filling out his private information and starting his profile.

you yawn and sprawl into your bed. you had the day off tomorrow and you were actually going to use it for once. you had already reserved yourself a spot at the salon to get a full body experience. mark had given you a gift card for the spa and you figured it was time to cash it in.

you rolled around your bed, unable to sleep even if you were yawning every 5 seconds. as you give up your attempt to sleep you flip your phone up to your face, not even realizing you forgot about the app.

you quickly pull whispr up and finish putting your information in there.

‘ space baby’ your randomly generated pops up, you hit ‘female’ on the tab.

there were a couple of features that stood out to you. the random room, and the interests box, that you could potentially match with if you had the same input .

you werent too keen on hitting random room. who knows what you’d get. you shudder at the aforementioned thought, annnnd tap it anyways. you wanted to get a good laugh.

ping!

friendly bird: hey space baby: hello friendly bird: a/s/l? friendly bird: 24/m/linkon, u?

what the ever living fuck does that even mean? your brows furrow, and immediately skipping the guy. this might be more painful than you anticipated. you had to look it up. age, sex, location– something chat website goers liked to abide by. ah. perhaps you were a bit too harsh?

you hit the randomizer again

ping!

smart pug: hi! space baby: hello. smart pug: how are you? space baby: i’m good, how about yourself? smart pug: i’m awesome. first time? space baby: yup lol, how’d you know?

oh, maybe there were good and normal conversations here!

smart pug: everybodies lol. hey, are you into kinky roleplay?

nevermind. skipped

‘chicken king: wanna meet up?’ skip

‘starfruit girl: sex rp?’ skip!

‘cake hero: u wanna trade numbers? im horny.’ SKIP!

you couldn’t help but laugh at how fucking silly the deliveries of some people are. you were actually having fun. you showed stacia a couple of the chats here and there, her howling with laughing, but you had enough. maybe trying the shared interest was a better idea.

you stare long and hard before putting down random shit that you liked. wine, food, movies, tv shows.

you matched immediately with somebody, but same old shit. you realized impressive it wasthat down-bad people can redirect a conversation of eating some food to asking you to eat their dong.

you were about to hang up the towel, before you looked at the shared interest one more time.

planes, aviation, jets

you nerd. you’re never going to match-

ping !

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi

caleb laid there, staring at his phone, waiting for a match. he was getting endless invitations from horny people wanting to have a good time. he did admit that this would be a crazy site where the reckless acted upon their fantasies. he managed to find one of his roommates on the site before everybody called it a night.

he too was going to call it a night before he was matched after 5 minutes of waiting.

‘you’ve matched with space baby!’ he scrambles his fingers to the keyboard and starts to type.

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi captain apple: you like planes? space baby: yes. do you like top gun?

caleb giggles to himself. giggled.

captain apple: i feel the need.. space baby: the need for speed! lol!

caleb felt giddy! they just started the conversation, and it was already a pleasant one. he stared at the heart button- the mutual buttons, but he stopped himself, before typing again

captain apple: what brings you on this website? space baby: friends told me about it, you? captain apple: same. we were bored– wanted to try and find each other on it. space baby: did you? captain apple: just one. theres a lot of people on today i think space baby: yeah there are lol. tbh i think this is interesting. i have had weirdos left and right, but you’re the first one that didn’t ask me for weird stuff. captain apple: haha no, not my type of thing. what else do you like? space baby: hmm i like food, wine, and i love tv shows. what about you? captain apple: literally everything, except wine. not a wine guy, i don’t drink, and if i do, maybe beer i guess. whats your favorite food? space baby: ok true. i honestly love a good beef stew, or a good homemade braised chicken. that reminds me of home.

calebs eyes light up, especially at the mention of braised chicken. the only other person who likes that is-

space baby: oh no, did you disappear ! :( captain apple: no! sorry was grabbing something. i love braised chicken too actually haha, but my favorite is anything apple related tbh. i’ve been on an apple strudel kick lately. space baby: ooh awesome, ill have to try!! whats your favorite movie or tv show? mine is top gun, and island love.. honestly any dating show. theyre so fun. captain apple: haha my favorite movie is also top gun and probably jurassic park. space baby: ooh i have never seen jurassic park. hmm.. favorite flavor of food? captain apple: apple stuff, and i like all spices/flavors…except cilantro.. space baby: haha, me too! tastes like soap for me. makes me so sad.

you and caleb are grinning, ear to ear, moving around your beds like love struck teenagers, pillow nestled in between your arms as you text away with each other.

you were actually having so much fun with this person, that you didn’t notice it was after midnight. you frowned slightly, a little bummed, before you go back to text captain apple

space baby: hey captain, sorry to cut the convo short, but i’ve got to go to sleep. do you wanna be mutuals before i head off?

caleb looked at the clock and damn near panicked. he had to be up early for PT, he quickly hit heart on the conversation and a pink heart bursts in the screen, followed by a ‘congrats! you are mutuals!’

captain apple: yeah no problem! have a good night. was nice meeting you space baby!

you exit the app, a huge grin on your face, as you settled down. you couldn’t help but try and envision who exactly captain apple was.

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