#I have been hoping and praying SO HARD for this

[muffinpink02]

Another Love (flatline)

Okay, this isn’t my usual kind of story, but I’ve always wanted to do a cheating fic. I haven’t been cheated on (yet, hopefully never) so I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel authentic. I took a different approach with it. But yeah, let me know what you think. Also thank you this anon. I know I didn’t do exactly what you asked but I hope you like it.

Warnings - smut 18, cheating, toxic, manipulative behaviour, swearing

word count 6922

The rain outside pelted hard against your living room window, the sad looking drizzle cascaded down the glass like a mini waterfall. The sky outside was grey and miserable, making your normally bright and sunny living room dark and gloomy. But being at the end of the year it wasn't a surprise the weather was so dull, even if you were living in the sunnier climate of Barcelona.

And as it was the end of the year that meant Christmas was only a week away. Which is exactly why you were searching on your phone for a last minute Christmas gift. Well, actually you had done all of your christmas shopping weeks ago. This last minute shop was for Alexia’s mum. Though, this gift wasn't from you, this gift would be from her very unorganised daughter. And just like Alexia did every year she left everything to the last minute and of course she had asked you to help her out.

“You’re better at shopping, amor. Just take my card. I know you’ll get something she likes.”

You of course couldn't say no to your fiance's pleading puppy eyes and honestly you didn't mind, you were better at buying the gifts for any occasion. And Alexia would only end up just buying something last minute that her mum definitely wouldn't want or use.

So you sat comfy on your sofa with a heavy blanket wrapped around you, snuggled in one of Alexia’s thick, soft jumpers, scrolling through your phone in search of the perfect gift for the older woman. You hummed, mindlessly nodding your head to the music that lightly played out of your speaker in the background. After another 20 minutes of scrolling you finally found the perfect gift. It was a beautiful red cotton scarf. Alexias mum had lost her own a couple weeks back, and as far you knew she hadn’t replaced it yet. So this was perfect! 

You added the item in your bag, filled out all the postage information and just before you could click the ‘buy now’ button, your screen turned black. Your phone battery had given up on you. 

“No! Fuck sake.” You grumbled, throwing your head back in annoyance.

What were the chances? I mean you were warned at 20% and 10% but still!

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly kicked the covers that were wrapped tightly around your legs, freeing yourself from your comfy cocoon. You were about to go to your bedroom to grab your charger until you spotted Alexia’s ipad sitting under the coffee table. You leaned over and grabbed the device, thanking the heavens you didn't have to leave your spot.

“Please have charge.” You prayed as you pressed the on button.

The apple tech gods must have heard your prayers as the screen sprung to life with a full battery. “Yes!” You cheered as you slumped back into your pit, wrapping the covers around your body. 

You easily unlocked the device, typing in your date of birth for the password. You smiled as the screensaver appeared. It was a photo of you and Alexia last year, when you had been away on holiday, the very same holiday the blonde had proposed to you. You wore a huge smile while the blonde was lovingly kissing your cheek, both your sun kissed skin glowing on your faces.

You could still remember the moment she pulled the blue velvet box out. Your eyes had tears in them the moment she got on one knee, it was the easiest decision you had ever made.

It only made you more excited for the upcoming holiday you had booked. Not that Alexia had any clue, this was a surprise holiday, completely planned all by yourself. It was technically for her birthday but you couldn't wait another 2 months, she’d almost found out about it four times already!

You opened up the website again and found the red cotton scarf, you added the item to your trolley once more and began the process of filling out all of the shipping information again. You didn’t mean to tap the notification when it appeared on the screen, you swore as it instantly opened you up to Alexia’s emails and straight to the one that just landed in her inbox. 

“Shit.” You huffed. 

You were about to click off of the app and finish your purchase and you would have, if it wasn’t for the yellow emoji that caught your eye. You knew you shouldn't have, but something in your gut told you to read the message.

You blinked.

You stared at the screen. 

You blinked again.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you read the words, your heart instantly dropped to the pits of your stomach. “What?” You whispered to yourself

Alexia - I'll see you around 4 after training. Be ready. 

Joe - be quick, I’ve missed you 😘

“Missed you?” You said out loud. What?

No. Wait. Maybe there was more to it than this. Maybe it wasn't what you thought it was, surely not. Alexia wasn’t cheating on you, she’s your fiance for fuck sake, this wasnt what you thought. Just breath, don’t over react. This might be a friend or someone you don’t know, and she's meeting up with them. This might be nothing. Right? It's nothing. 

But, it also might be something. 

You scrolled a little further up on the conversation. 

Joe - Did you have to rip my underwear? 😂

Alexia - Sorry, i'll buy you another pair 

Joe - just for you to rip those too? 

Alexia - maybe 😘

Your breath caught in your chest as the words sunk in. You were wrong, this was clearly more than a friend.

You felt sick.

Your eyes kept going over the words, over and over and over until they didn’t make sense to you. You stared until the black lines that formed letters became small blurs that you could no longer read or process.

Alexia was cheating on you. 

Alexia. Your fiance. Your world. Your life. Your person was cheating on you.

This couldn’t be real, surely not. It must be a prank. A wrong email. Maybe she had been hacked or it's a code for football talk. Maybe …. something? You were so desperate you would believe anything else right now. But it was real, it was right in front of you, in black and white. You just didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t.

Your mind went completely blank, a numbing feeling sunk into your bones. Nothing was processing right, it was like your body was trying to reject what it was feeling. Even your vision seemed to stop, everything around you seemed to blur. A deafening silence sliced through your head, ringing painfully inside your ears. 

Breath. 

With a shaky hand you swiped up to see how far this went. Maybe this was a one time thing? Not that it made it any easier, well, maybe it would? Maybe. But that thought was killed instantly as you watched the messages between Alexia and Joe go on and on. Your finger kept swiping the screen, watching the days and weeks go by. The dates were going further and further back. It felt like it would never end. 

Your stomach twisted as the dates went back eight months. Months. This had been happening for 8 months. Nearly a year. How? How was she doing this? When was she doing this? Why was she doing this? Countless questions were steam rolling through your head. You didn’t notice your fingers were gripping the iPad as hard as they were until the muscles in your digits started to hurt. 

The messages were short. There were no declarations of love or anything that seemed intimate. Just a lot of ‘when’ and ‘where’ there was the odd flirty message, like the one you read, but nothing cryptic, it almost seemed business li

“W-what?” You stuttered in disbelief.

This surely wasn’t happening, this had to be a dream. A nightmare.

You took a deep shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You wanted to wake up and see that none of this was real. You had to wake up from this nightmare and see Alexia sleeping soundly in your warm shared bed as she cradled you against her chest like she did every night,

Please don’t let this be real. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until your tears began to drop on the screen, blurring the words that had just turned your world upside down. Your body was shaking, trembling hard as your fingers moved to swipe along the messages. You scrolled to the start of their conversation, needing to know how this started. 

No, you needed to see her. You needed to put a face to the name. You needed to see who this Joe was. 

You studied the name of the stranger. You instantly searched for her on Alexia’s instagram followers. It didn't take you long before you found her profile. Her public profile. Did they even care to be careful? The carelessness felt like another kick in the teeth, it almost felt like the stranger wanted you to see her. Maybe she did.

You scanned her profile. She was the complete opposite of you. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her style, her smile. She was nothing like you. 

She was beautiful. 

Somehow that made the pain worse. You couldn't stop the humiliation creeping down your skin, and your walls going up. Your mind dived into a deep pit of insecurity, not only was you being cheated on, but the girl didn't even look like you. A nauseous feeling flooded your brain. Did Alexia not find you attractive anymore? Was this the kind of girl Alexia actually liked and wanted?

A certain photo caught your interest. Joe was laying beside a pool, her perfect body cladded in a bikini that hardly contained her intimate parts, you scoffed in disgust when you spotted Alexia’s name in the likes. She had liked a few of her photos. Once again not caring about her footprint, she either had no shame or was just careless. It just felt like another punch in the gut. You continued to stalk Joe’s insta, looking for any more sightings of Alexia in the likes or comments, and maybe even a photo. 

She was stunning. She was perfect. She wasn't you.

You felt stupid. So fucking stupid. How many lies had Alexia told you? 

Your mind wandered to where they even met. Was she a fan? Did she know her from a life before you? Did she work for Barca? Did she find her online? On a dating app? Maybe they met on a night out?�� It wasn't hard for her to do, you had noticed you had been asked less and less on nights out with the girls. Probably for this exact reason. Was she the only one, or was there others? Or maybe Alexia wasn't even meeting with the team.

Did the team know? Were they aware of what Alexia was doing? You had noticed some of the girls didn’t speak to you as much as they did before, maybe this was why? Maybe they felt bad, too ashamed to look you in the eye. But Alexia could.

Then it started to click, the late nights, the texts from Alexia telling you she was staying behind for extra training, it was all starting to take a different meaning. You pictured Alexia and Joe sneaking around, checking into some random hotel, naked and wrapped up in white sheets, panting and laughing at how clueless you were.  

You could feel the acidic bile daring to rise as you pictured Alexia with your rival. Did she make her feel better than you could? Satisfy her in a way you couldn't? 

That's when the intrusive images flashed in your mind, images of Alexia doing all the things she did to you to your opposite. Did she fuck her the same way she fucked you? Did she go down on her the way she went down on you? Biting at her thighs, making her beg to give her what she wanted, while your fiance smiled up at her with her hazel eyes. 

Her mouth kissing you hours after being with her. That’s when the bile finally rose up from your stomach. You ran to the bathroom just in time to make the toilet as the sick came up. You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, your back slumped hard against the wall before collapsing on the bathroom floor. Your lip quivered as the tears finally spilled from your eyes, your body trembling against the cold tiled floor.

How was this happening? Alexia had proposed to you just last year, you were planning a wedding, a future together, a family. 

What did you do wrong? 

You didn’t know what to do. Should you call someone? Should you call Alexia? No. Should you leave? But where would you go? All your family and friends were back in the UK. You had some work friends here but you weren't close enough for something like this.

Everything was falling apart. Everything you thought you knew was one big lie. How could someone you love treat you like this? How? 

After what felt like hours, you found the strength to wash your mouth and face before carrying yourself back to the living room and opened the ipad back up. Reading the messages that were breaking your heart but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The messages were short, no more than two lines but every word felt like another blow, another hard hit that made your chest painfully tight. You didn’t realise you were hardly breathing until your body forced you to take one large gulp for air. 

You felt your body go numb when you realised Alexia had met her on your 5th anniversary. 

God, you felt so stupid. You had waited at home for her. You had spent hours cooking a three course meal, all her favourites. 

Your eyes begin to blur again when you read their messages.

Joe - Are we meeting at the restaurant or should I meet you at the hotel?

Alexia - Come to the hotel, I want to see you before I go out

Joe - okay, but this time we have to make the reservation. We missed it last time.

Alexia - well if you hadn't have put on that dress that drives me fucking crazy we would have made it. 

You were broken. 

How was this your Alexia? 

This surely wasn't the same girl that made you feel effortlessly loved? The girl that knew you better than you knew yourself. The same girl that brought you untold happiness, happiness that you never knew existed before you met her. This wasn't the same girl that asked you to dance 5 years ago in the dingy little bar. The girl that had put a ring on your finger promising you a happily ever after. 

How was this her? Your Alexia. Was she even your Alexia anymore?

Nothing felt real. You looked around the living room, it didn’t look right, nothing looked right, nothing was the same. The peace and warmth you felt from the apartment had instantly disappeared, it felt cold, lifeless. 

You jumped when you heard a text come through on your phone, it was from Alexia.

Alexia - Hola, baby, we’re going over game strategy so I will be home a little later today

And there it was, another one of her lies. A heavy weight sunk over your body, making you feel numb to the bone.

You placed the ipad on the coffee table and slowly stood up. Your legs felt like led as you began to walk, you didn't really know what you were doing, your body felt like it was going into some weird overdrive or maybe it was the shock from it all. You stopped and stared at the christmas tree that flickered in the corner, your mind took you somewhere else. You weren't sure how long you were standing there before your legs brought you to your shared bedroom.

—-----------

The familiar sound of keys rattled in the door. It was once a sound you looked forward to, instead your stomach lurched. You took a deep and shaky breath as you got ready to come face to face with your finance, the woman that had shattered your heart into a million pieces. 

“Amor, I’m home.” 

Alexia frowned when you didn’t reply, she removed her shoes and made her way into the apartment to find you. It didn't take her long to spot you in the living room, sitting at the breakfast table. 

The beating in your chest thumped hard when your eyes fell on the blonde. You wanted to hate her, you wanted to instantly fall out of love with her, you wanted to feel nothing when you heard her call you by your pet name, but that wasn't the case. You still felt everything you did before you saw the messages, before you knew the truth.

But you knew where she had been this evening. 

Alexia could instantly tell you had been crying, your blushed cheeks and watery eyes gave you away, not that you were trying to hide it. You wanted her to see the hurt she had caused.

“Bebé? What's wrong?” 

Alexia hurried over to you, she was about to cup your face, but was stopped in her tracks when you moved away. Your eyes met hers, you could see her hair was wet, she at least had the decency to shower before returning home, or make it look like she had just showered after training.

“I know.” Your voice croaked out, the hours of crying weakening your throat.

Alexia’s face frowned in confusion, it instantly annoyed you.

“Que?” 

“Joe.”  Even saying her name out loud made you want to scream.

Alexia’s face dropped, you could see the look of horror as realisation hit her. Her mouth gaped open but no words came out. The silence was deafening, you felt your skin burning, it felt itchy, painfully itchy you wanted to tear it off. After what felt like hours, though it was likely seconds, Alexia finally spoke.

“Wh-what? Who? What do you mean?” The blonde anxiously fiddled with the zip on her joggers. 

You felt your shoulders slump, she didn't even have the decency to just be honest, but why would she? She’d lied this whole time. 8 months. 

“Don’t. Don’t play dumb, Alexia. I saw your messages on your emails.” 

Alexia's frown deepened. A flash of anger flickered across her eyes. “Why were you going through my emails?” 

Was she really going to try and turn this on you?

“What? Are you actually fucking asking me that?” You snapped, your own anger boiling over.

“No! I mean-” Alexia pushed her hand through her wet loose hair, you didn't miss the way it shook. A trait she did when she was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

“Don’t lie to me!” You shouted, voice cracking. The tears you were trying so hard to hold down bursting at the seams. “Please. Just stop lying, Alexia.” God. You sounded so weak.

Alexia looked at you, those beautiful hazel eyes you loved so much filling with tears. Her foot was tapping against the floor, she looked scared. Good, you thought. She bit her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. You watched her through blurry eyes, she took a step back from you, covering her face with her hands. Her body stiffened as she took a deep breath.

“She means nothing to me.” Her voice was just above a whisper. But you heard it.

You sucked in a hard breath. Even though you knew what you knew, hearing her confess it hit you harder than you could have imagined. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but when Alexia put her warm hand on your shoulder you broke down, your skin prickled where she touched you.

“Amor, please. Please don't cry.” The blonde begged. 

You covered your face as the tears streamed down your hot cheeks, you could feel your heart beating painfully fast. It felt like you were about to go into shock, maybe you were, your body felt like it was taking a brutal beating from the inside out.

“You were with her tonight.” You weren't asking. You felt her hand stiffen on your shoulder.

The silence was so loud.

“You were with her tonight, weren't you Alexia.” You repeated. Your tone was sharp. You bluntly moved her hand from you, not wanting her to touch you. You ignored her gasp from the out of character movement from you, but you didn't care. The thought of her hands being on someone else made the pit of your stomach tighten painfully.

You watched as a few tears slipped from her eye’s. You could see the panic starting to hit her. You stood up, you needed to move, you walked past Alexia even though a small part of you wanted to hold her. What the fuck? No. You ignored it. You walked to the open kitchen, you grabbed the sides to help you with your balance, you were sure your legs were about to give up on you, your knees buckling under the turmoil of emotions that ran through your body. 

“I just don’t understand.” You squeaked out, turning your head to see Alexia who looked like a kicked puppy. 

“I am sorry. I-I- she means nothing to me. I swear.” She slowly walked over to you but stopped when you moved away.

You didn't believe her. You would never believe her again.

“You’ve been doing this for months, months Alexia! Lying to me for fucking months, seeing this girl behind my fucking back!” You screamed. Your chest was heaving with anger.

Alexia didn't say anything, what could she say? She stood there looking like she could be sick, the colour draining from her face.

“You asked me to marry you, Alexia. I have a ring on my finger because I love you. Don’t you love me? What have I done wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you had blamed yourself, but it felt like you needed to know. 

Alexia looked panicked, your words clearly making her wince. “No! I do love you! I-I- she is nothing. It’s just sex. It’s just a big mistake. I don’t know why I did it!”

That hurt. You would have some kind of understanding if you and Alexia didn't have sex, but you did. Yeah, of course it wasnt every night, or even every week but you were still intimate. So this must have been more than sex.  

You shook your head, you didn’t believe that, not anymore. You felt so small as your world began to crumble around you. The blonde was now by your side, catching you before you dropped to your knees. 

What was happening? How was this your life right now? It wasn't meant to be like this. Alexia was never meant to be the one that broke your heart.

“Baby, please. I’m here.” She grabbed your body pulling you into hers. 

You had a burning urge to hold her, you wanted to feel safe in her arms like you always did, but you felt weird, her arms didn't feel right anymore. It made you feel sick, you could feel your stomach churning as you pictured Alexia holding your opposite. You flinched away like she was made of fire. 

“Here? You’re here? You havent been here, you’ve been creeping around fucking some girl and god knows how many others behind my back! Don’t you dare say you’re ‘here’. You screamed so loud the neighbours would have heard every word.

Let them hear.

Alexia shrank at your words. You hated that you felt bad. She was the one that had hurt you.

“Why? Just tell me why? Am I not enough?” You felt like you swallowed a stone with that question. 

Alexia sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. It made you realise how little you saw the girl cry. 

“You are everything and more, I swear it. I….I panicked.” Her accent grew thicker as her words shook in her throat.

“What? Panicked for what?” You questioned. 

“After I proposed.” She took a breath for air, her hazel eyes looked more green after she cried. “I panicked and got scared. It was only meant to be once, but then we started planning the wedding. It got more real and I-I just didn't know how to stop.”

“You asked me to marry you!” You said in disbelief. 

“I know! And I still want to!” She whispered.

You scoffed. This girl had some fucking nerve.

“Why would I marry someone who can lie to my face every night? Lie about where she is? Touch someone else and lay in bed with me the same night!” 

The neighbours were definitely getting a show now.

Alexia dragged her face, her puffy lips wet with tears. How could she still look so beautiful?

“I’m sorry. It was all just a big mistake I swear!” She moved closer to you. “Please, amor, forgive me! I have not been myself, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I want to marry you and be with you! You are my world, my everything! Please! Please forgive me! Please.” She was hardly breathing, her gasps of air were short as the tears came pouring out of her. She dropped to her knees in front of you, her crying getting louder and louder, you thought she might be having a panic attack. 

Your own tears fell from your eyes as you watched the woman you love break down in front of you, you wanted to believe her, but your trust had shattered the moment you read those words. How could you trust her again?

“Alexia.” You whispered her name as you put your hand on her arm. 

The blonde looked up, her wide hazel eyes bore into yours. She looked so tired. She put her hand over yours and stood, her face inches from yours. 

“Babita, please. Please. I love you so much, give me another chance.”

Her large hands came up to your face, you allowed her to wipe the ever flowing tears from your cheeks. Even though it was Alexia who had broken your heart you still needed comfort, you still wanted to feel her. You still loved her.

She took you not moving for a good sign, taking her chances and gently cupping your cheeks. 

“Please, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am such a fool, you’re everything I want. I love you so much. I can’t do this without you.” 

She moved closer to you. Her familiar smell washed over you, she smelt like home. She wrapped you up in a tight hug, you felt yourself lean into her, you didn't know why. Maybe because your whole world had just been turned upside down and you needed to feel something, even if she was the culprit that caused you all this pain.

A couple of minutes passed by, all in silence other than a couple of sniffles from you and Alexia. And in those minutes you weren't sure where you went, it felt like you had left your own body. Like this was all just a big weird dream and you were about to wake up and see that it was all a mistake, see that this wasn't real. 

Maybe you were having a panic attack.

Alexia stroked your hair as your tears still fell, the front of her jumper was wet from your face but you only snuggled more into her.

You hated yourself for it. Why were you so weak? Why were you not screaming and calling her all the names under the sun for breaking your heart? For ruining your self confidence, for making you question everything you thought you knew. Why can’t you do it? 

“Alexia.” You whispered into her jumper.

“Sí, carino?” 

“You-you’ve broken me.” Your voice cracked as more tears came.

Alexia’s tears also sprung to her eyes as she heard your words, her arms held you tighter. She took a big shuddery breath before she kissed your head. “I’m so sorry. I will be sorry that I hurt you, until the day I die.” She confessed. 

Her words didn’t comfort you, not really. They made you wonder about the future you had planned with Alexia. The future you had once been so excited to share with the girl. Now all gone. 

“I will fix this, I will, amor. Please, let me fix this.”

You felt Alexia press her lips on the top of your head. You tried to ignore the warm feeling that swirled inside your stomach. It felt like you were losing a battle with your brain and body. You closed your eyes as a soft kiss was placed on your temple. It was the same spot Alexia kissed every morning. It was so familiar, and yet it felt different. Does it feel different? Or was your brain trying to protect you?

“You’re my world. I promise you I will fix everything.” She whispered into your ear.

Your lips quivered before a small sob escaped your mouth. You felt your eyes release a new wave of tears at her words of declaration, you wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe this could be fixed. Could it? 

Sad watery eyes met yours as you looked up at the girl in front of you. Her hands held your face. It was just you and her, staring at the other. This was the face you wanted to watch grow old. The face you wanted to wake up to everyday. The face you wanted to have by your side for the rest of your life. Now it almost felt like you were looking at a stranger.

Alexia placed her hand under your chin, moving your face to her own. Your body stiffened when you felt her lips press against your own. 

“No.” You whispered weakly as you pulled back.

“Please, don’t do this. I love you with all my heart. Please don’t let this break us.” The blonde whispered as she stroked your face. 

Alexia pulled back slightly to look at your face, her glassy eyes scanned your features, taking in every detail of you. You felt exposed. Completely open to her. It made you feel vulnerable. Alexia had been your world for so long. She made you feel real love for the first time. A love that made you feel protected, seen. 

“I love you.” 

Your brain screamed to run. Leave. Don’t let her fool you. This wasn't right, you knew it wasn't. But your heart didn't agree as you let her kiss you again. The kiss was everything you knew. Her lips were a safe blanket that you could wrap yourself around in. This was what you knew, how were you going to give this up? 

“I love you.” She whispered against your lips as she gently pushed you against the kitchen side. 

“Alexia-”

“Please. I can fix this.” She pleaded as her voice cracked with desperation. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, her body leaning more into you. She closed her eyes but the tears still managed to escape as they dropped on your t-shirt and seeped into the fabric. 

You didn't say anything. All the words you had ever known escaped your brain, leaving you empty. Everything you had planned, all the questions. Gone. You were more ready this time when her lips sunk into yours again, you even opened your mouth, allowing her to push a gentle tongue against yours. You could taste the salt from her tears that stained her lips. 

What were you doing? Why were you letting her in? 

Because you loved her, you loved her with everything you had. Because you were a fool.

Her mouth cascaded down from yours to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your skin as she made her way down to your neck. You hated yourself when a small groan left your mouth, but it turned into a small whimper as another sob escaped you.

Run.

But you couldn’t, your heart was broken, you needed to feel something, you needed Alexia, she was the one that made everything better, she was the one you went to if you ever felt upset. She was your light. She was who you needed. You just wanted to feel loved even though this wasn't what love was.

Your hands gripped her shirt when she came back to your mouth, you weren't sure if you were going to push her or away or pull her closer. Her kisses grew more desperate once she heard the groan you made, thinking this was the only way to have you back. 

She easily moved you from the kitchen to the bedroom, all while her lips attacked your neck and mouth, making you gasp for air. Your mind was a blur, a blur of pain and hurt. A blur of confusion. 

Your head was throbbing from the headache you caused yourself from crying. You tried to ignore it like the way you ignored the voice in your head telling you to stop this. But you didn't listen.

“I love you. I love you. I can fix us.” Alexia kept chanting.

She laid you on the bed as she slowly removed your joggers. You felt the tears run down your puffy lips, as you reached out for her needing her close to you again. But you couldn't look at her. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the girl you loved and hated.

Both yours and Alexias lips were puffy and swollen from tears. You felt your lips split as you licked them, stinging your plump flesh, you tried to focus on it as Alexia connected your lips once more before she began to move down your body.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much, babita. Let me make you feel good.”

You felt your breath hitch as the blonde kissed on your stomach. The familiar feeling of her body pressing on yours grounded you more than you would have thought. You almost forgot about why you were crying. You nearly didn't feel the pain that sunk into every fiber of your body. Nearly.

Her hazel eyes looked up at you as she moved further down. But you looked away, you felt shame flood your chest as you allowed her to remove your underwear. 

“I love you.” She mumbled against your skin. 

You gasped as you felt her tongue swipe through your folds. Your eyes started to wet again as you felt her mouth on you. Her hands gripped at your thighs, pushing you open as she gently licked at your sex. 

You felt everything and nothing. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, wanting to feel Alexia, but wanting nothing to do with her at the same time. You just wanted to feel something. It was an absolute mind fuck. And yet you opened your legs further as the girl wrapped her lips around your clit. 

Alexia stroked your thighs as she used her mouth on you. She kissed your clit before sinking her tongue into your cunt. You felt the way she groaned, probably from tasting your essence as it melted on her tongue. Your own body betrayed you. 

Your thighs started to shake as you felt that familiar swirl start to wash over your body. Alexia could tell straight away. She grabbed your hands that would have normally sunk into her hair by now and placed them on her head. You looked down from the touch, Alexia’s eyes were puffy from crying. She looked at you with a look you didn't recognise. 

Was it regret? Was it hope? Was it guilt for being caught?

Your fingers flexed loosely in her hair as your thighs started to shake. Your orgasm was building but you could tell it wasn't the same, it felt like it didnt know where to go. Or why it was even there. But you let her finish, you let her suck and lick your bud until your body shook against the bed. Your orgasm trickled over your body, leaving you feeling worse than you did. Alexia stayed between your legs to clean you up. 

You felt your chest tighten and your throat close up as a wave of sadness pulled you down. When Alexia reached your face it felt like you were drowning, it must have been your own cries as you shuddered against the bed. 

“Baby, please. Please, I’m here.” 

You grabbed Alexia's hand and pushed it between your legs, you needed to feel something. You still wanted to feel her. You didn't want to feel this sadness that was taking over your body.

Anything. Please feel anything.

“Please.” You begged as you pulled her closer to kiss you.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” She whispered before your lips locked.

Alexia circled your clit a few times before she dipped a single finger into you. You let out a small groan, you could feel you were tight. She pumped her fingers as she kissed your neck, you tried to ignore the tears that fell from her eyes onto your skin.

You hissed as she pushed another finger in. 

“Ho sento. I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to your lips as she moved her fingers slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed her shoulders as she started to open you up. Her eyes fixed on your face as you closed your own, trying your best to escape today's nightmare. 

“I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” She mumbled into your neck.

Her fingers got deeper as she moved faster. You finally started to float away as you felt nothing but her inside you, putting all your focus on this one feeling. 

“I will marry you. I want you to have my babies. Please let me.” She started to cry as she fucked you. 

Before you could register what she was saying you let out a loud gasp when she pushed a third finger inside you, but she knew it wasn't a painful gasp. She knew your body, she knew you. Your head dipped back in the pillow as you felt your second orgasm start to rise. Your small whimpers gave you away to the girl above as your nails dug into her arms.

“That's it baby. You’re so good.” She peppered kisses all over your face as she encouraged you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm fast apoached. Your thighs shook against Alexia's hips once her thumb began to circle your clit. You felt it. You felt something. other than sadness, just for a few seconds. 

“Don’t stop!’ You begged as your orgasm rushed over you.

“I’m here. I’m here.” Alexia coed at you.

You saw stars as your pussy clenched tightly around the thick fingers. Time stood still as everything went quiet. No voices in your head. No sadness that took over your senses. Your tears stopped for just a moment as you relaxed into the mattress. All the pressure that your body had taken was finally melting away. 

You winced a little as Alexia removed her fingers as gently as she could. You slumped back into the pillow, taking a deep breath of air. You stared at the ceiling before you felt the blonde slot herself next to you. 

“Turn around, amor.” Her breath ghosted the lose her on your neck.

 You slowly moved, you knew she wanted to hold you and you let her without question. 

Was this really your life? Was this really you?

Familiar hands started to stroke your hair. You could feel how stiff Alexia’s body was behind you, maybe she was scared to move in case she frightened you away. 

“I love you.” She whispered again.

You didn't respond. You felt her arm snaking around your side, her hand looking for your own. You didn't think before you gave her what she wanted, her thumb instantly stroked your knuckles. It wasn't long before your tired and sore eyes started to close. 

An hour later you woke up as Alexia stirred behind you, sleeping soundly. You moved as slowly as you could, creeping out the bed as lightly as you could. You grabbed your clothes that you had waiting on the side, along with your suitcase that Alexia missed when she pulled you into the bedroom.

You looked over at her sleeping form, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, a small frown sat between her brows. She looked beautiful. You almost wanted to climb back in the bed. But you stayed strong. 

“I love you.” You whispered to your lover.

The tears started to form again, quickly falling over your cheeks. You felt sick as you carried your suitcase to the front door. What were you doing? Was this the right thing? Yes. She cheated on you! She’s broken your heart. She doesn't love you like you thought she did. Leave. 

You took a deep shuddery breath before you removed your engagement ring and left it on the side, with the keys to Alexia's apartment next to them. You took one last glance over your shoulder, the Christmas tree caught your eyes as it flickering in the corner. You gently shut the door behind you, a loud sob escaped you as you left everything you thought was your future behind you.

[formulawolff]

a weekend in buffalo — d.r.

pairing -> fem!driver reader x daniel ricciardo

word count -> smau

warnings -> none really, just some gossip accounts, some softness, and photos of a couple making out, internet hate/slut shaming, cursing

a/n -> life has been overwhelming but the idea of gg with daniel makes me want to write. for now my brain came up with this. i hope y’all like it <3

liked by f1fangirl, f1daily, alex_albon, and 73,029 others!

f1teaspill it appears that daniel ricciardo has been spotted out and about in buffalo. but this time, he has company…. ☕️

user9229 guys are we sure this is real

f1teaspill these photos were sent to me through dms by fans. i cannot confirm nor deny the validity of the photos. i only share what is shared with me! ☺️

redbull4ever so what you’re saying is that there may be a chance these pics are fake…

mercgirly420 MIND YOU IT HAS ONLY BEEN A FEW MONTHS SINCE SHE BROKE TOTO’S HEART‼️

williamsstan girl we don’t know the full story about that so let’s be mindful of criticizing someone for moving on…

mercgirly420 girl stfu we all know this girl is a slut and only used toto to gain an advantage at a better team. she basically said that herself at the press conference at cota. that’s probably when she and daniel started to [more]

williamsstan respectfully, i’m not reading all of that 🤍

goldengirlforever we don’t even know if that’s our golden girl so you need to shut the fuck up 🤍

f1fan03939 HELLO⁉️ ALEX LIKED THE POST⁉️

user820 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE⁉️

f1stan636 uhhhh … is that… golden girl?

mercfan67 i think so. the height, hair color, stature, all match.

user45 guys i'm going to the game this weekend. i'll keep an eye out for gg and daniel! 🫡

f1fangirl2003 this is going to be an insane weekend for the daniel and gg truthers if this proves to be true

dannyfantom i am going to lose my shit (in the best way possible) if it's true!

user2004 these pics are so grainy tho.. we can't really be sure it's her!

user1999 ew what a slut. can't believe she emotionally cheated on toto.

user2001 ugh he deserves better than that home-wrecking whore 🤢

goldengirl posted to her story!

danielricciardo just posted!

liked by maxverstappen1, goldengirl.jpg, joshallenqb, and 932,002 others!

danielricciardo another great weekend in buffalo

view 2,204 comments

joshallenqb who is that beautiful man wearing the hard hat? 😩

danielricciardo your bf

maxverstappen1 it's nice to see you enjoying yourself in the states mate! 😆

danielricciardo thank you! ☺️ i can't wait to see you at cota!

dannyricstan how do i like this post more than once?

user1998 wow i love paris this time of year

f1fan19972 daniel pls tell me you're not dating that slut from the states...

user45 screaming crying throwing up how is a man so beautiful

f1girly is this gg's burner cause...

yukitsunoda0511 i see this post made it to the wrong side of instagram 🙃

oscarpiastri what a man!

danielricciardo nah that's you sugar 😘

f1fan2023 why are you and gg both in buffalo?

f1user2005 yeah let's talk about that!

f1user05 praying that the rumors aren't true 😔

danielricciardo i fear that you have more important things to worry about

dannyric09 ummm so what's going on?

f1teapage no one knows atp

goldengirl.jpg just posted!

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 15,037 others!

goldengirl.jpg alexa, play this is the life by two door cinema club

danielricciardo slowly but surely indoctrinating you as a bills fan

goldengirl.jpg josh allen is a pretty cool guy!

maxverstappen1 nice to see you two enjoyed the weekend! 😄

alex_albon i say we get tix to a raiders game when we’re in vegas 🙂‍↕️

goldengirl.jpg brb running to check their schedule

goldengirl.jpg as long as we can invite my daniel i will be happy to go

goldengirlstan HELLO⁉️ “my daniel”

user7273 ISTHISAHARDLAUNCHICANT

gg939 GOLDEN GIRL X DANIEL TRUTHERS RISE UP‼️

lilymhe ugh stop it you look soooo good in the red + blue combo

lilymhe brb searching up how to be as gorgeous as golden girl

lilymhe also can't wait for the debrief. lmk when you're back home plssssss

landonorris love u both

landonorris mom n dad

goldengirl.jpg ugh love u son <3

oscarpiastri honorary parents

f1user2006 WHY IS NO ONE POSTING ABOUT THIS‼️

f1fan2004 YEAH I AM WONDERING THE SAME THING

mercedesfan2005 ew

georgefan2003 this is atrocious. you break toto's heart and now you're prancing around with this washed guy? unbelievable.

ggstan is this toto wolff's burner?

franscisca.cgomes AHH CUTIES!

lewishamilton so refreshing to see you on my feed again. missed you! 🤍 (p.s. great song choice)

carlossainz55 such a beautiful couple! 😀

alex_albon okkkk facebook mom!

jallen96 love you both! go bills!

hailee.jpg ugh imy already sweet girl

goldengirl.jpg ugh imy more. maybe i'll come down one weekend for girls night

danielricciardo my beautiful girl, everyone

f1teaspill is this a confirmation? check your dms!

f1gossip pleeeeaaasseee check your dm!

f1teadaily we need the tea girl!

[ylangelegy]

true hate’s kiss 💋 chan x reader.

★ footnotes: first seen in svt x reverse tropes. dedicated to @chanranghaeys and, of course, the birthday boy himself. word count: 905.

It started with the ribbiting.

The first time it happened, Chan had thought it was a hiccup. Some weird sound caught in the back of his throat. But then it kept happening, and happening, and happening, and no amount of water could fight it down. 

What a horrifying thing to realize— that he was slowly but surely turning into a frog. 

It’s the type of fuckass situation that Chan thought only existed in fiction. He’d seen the Disney movie, of course. He even gave it four stars on Letterboxd. 

To have it happen to him, though? Insane. 

All because he’d gotten into a spat with someone at the park. He’d thought the old hag was crazy when she screeched about being a witch, when she waved a stick at him and claimed he could only be cured by ‘true hate’s kiss’. Not true love, mind you. True hate. 

There was really only ever one person that Chan loathed with every fibre of his being.

You’d understandably been skeptical when he came up to you. In hindsight, starting off with “I need you to kiss me” may have not been one of his stronger openings.

“This is a weird way to confess,” you had shot back, and he laughed so hard he thought he might cry. 

He called you delusional. You retaliated by slamming the door in his face with a scathing remark of “Enjoy being a fuckass frog, then! Ribbit ribbit, bitch!”

‘Ribbit ribbit’ he has been doing, much to his utter distaste. The trilling has been driving him mad. He’s convinced his palms are getting more clammy by the day. And is it just him, or is his skin taking on a more greenish tint? 

Chan swallows what little pride he has left and does what he has to do: He grovels. 

He gets on his knees and grits out pleas for just one kiss. (No tongue, even, he says, unless you want some. That earns him an upside smack to the head.) 

He promises to leave you alone for a week, a month. That’s not enough; he can tell by your stoic, unwavering expression. 

“Anything,” he blurts out. “I’ll give you anything.” 

It’s a dangerous thing to promise, but it’s what lands. “Anything?” you repeat, tilting your head to one side. 

You’re the perfect picture of everything he’s despised. Composure, ridicule, smugness. 

Chan shifts from down on the ground, his knees pressing into the cool wood of the floorboards. “Anything,” he confirms with the solemnity of a man accepting a death sentence. 

You feign like you’re thinking about it, fingers resting at your chin. The litany strikes up in Chan’s head. A chant of I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I—  

“Deal,” you say. 

He blinks. Dread shivers down his spine, though it’s quickly replaced by something more akin to relief. Better one bad kiss than be a frog for life. 

“Okay.” His words are an exhale as he scrambles to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height. “Alright, then.” 

Chan has never been more grateful to be a couple of inches taller than you. It’s always been the topic of his jabs, and now it gives him both literal and metaphorical leverage. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he grumbles even though he’s in no position to be making demands when he’s the one cashing in a favor. He can only hope and pray that the anything you might want is somewhat reasonable, that it won’t shatter his already wounded pride. 

You roll your eyes. He bites back a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. 

Chan rests his hand on the column of your neck, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right. Don’t overthink it, a voice in the back of his head wryly advises, and so he doesn’t. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and leans down, bracing for the worst. I hate you, I hate you, I hate—

—green apple lip balm. 

The refrain screeches to a halt. Chan never thought he’d use the word ‘soft’ to describe you; he knows you for your rough edges and sharp wit. Nothing about you is subtle or mellow, most especially when it comes to him. 

And yet. 

You’re not even touching him. You haven’t laid a single finger on him, and yet Chan is holding his breath like he’s underwater.

When your mouth parts ever so slightly— he doesn’t have the time to analyze that, to wonder if it’s impulse or pleasure— he responds in kind, his tongue briefly tracing over your lower lip. 

His earlier jab must register in your mind because you begin to pull away, your part of the deal fulfilled. The feeling of loss is instant. 

Don’t overthink it, his conscience had yelled. He didn’t realize it might translate to Don’t think at all. 

Chan’s fingers flex at your neck. If kissing you felt like being underwater, being apart felt like gasping for air. 

Gone is the chorus in his head. Why did he hate you, anyway? 

He doesn’t have to say a thing. His body acts for him; instinctively, he leans forward, chasing your lips for another kiss. 

(Later: A doctor’s visit reveals that the ‘ribbiting’ was, in fact, hiccups. An electrolyte imbalance, the attending tells a mortified Chan. Might be good to drink Gatorade. 

When Chan’s first thought is the apple-flavored variant, he knows he’s screwed.) 

[dyingswanpavlova]

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.”  You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[nowonz]

you, me, and the sheep | hatake kakashi.

wc: 1.1k | pure fluff | warnings: none! my first fic on this account! i was overwhelmed with love for kakashi today so i wanted to get this out to help me get back into writing <3

Today’s mission did not go as planned. That much is clear, especially as you approach the front door of your boyfriend’s home worn out and bruised. As one of the more experienced shinobi in the mission’s assigned squad, you were appointed to guide your team to the proper location of the target. However, the mission report neglected to inform you that the target had bought protection from a small, nearby village. 

Luckily, there were no fatalities, but your fellow shinobi, Asuma, received a hefty injury to his leg. You’d just come back from the medical ward and were looking forward to seeing your lover. 

You twist the doorknob and quickly take notice of the dim lights and calming atmosphere. Surely he’s not already asleep, you think. But just in case, you quietly slink through the doorway and shrug off your olive green vest. 

“Everything alright?” 

His voice startles you at first, but you calm yourself once you see Kakashi, clad in a simple black top and grey sweatpants, drying his damp hair with a white towel. Despite how long you’ve been together, and even longer friends, you think you’ll never quite get over how beautiful he is without his mask. 

You fold your vest over a kitchen chair and approach his figure. Immediately, he welcomes you into his embrace, warm from his previous shower. 

“Long day then?” He asks, giving you a soft peck atop your hair.

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his neck. “The longest.”

“I can tell,” he begins, “by the way you’re clinging onto me.”

You push yourself away, not enough to leave his arms but enough to see his face. “What? You can’t say you don’t enjoy it at least a little bit.”

Kakashi hums, tapping a finger to his chin as if he were having to consider it. “Hm, perhaps I do.” He wraps his arms around you a smidge together. “Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to guess?”

The playful grin on your face is swiftly replaced by one of embarrassment and disappointment. “It was my fault. Lady Tsunade appointed me as the captain of the squad. Asuma got hurt because of me. I should have been more prepared.” You turn away from him, hoping and praying that he doesn’t see the tears filling your waterline. 

Kakashi’s expression softens and he gently guides your chin to him, coaxing you to return his gaze. “It was an honest mistake. It happens.” He cards a hand through your hair, trying to give you comfort the best way he knows how. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. You didn’t let this happen on purpose. We know that, and I’m sure Asuma knows too.”

You bury yourself further into his arms and clutch the fabric of his tee. “Let’s run away together. Just you and me.”

He chuckles, allowing his fingers to dance along the length of your arm. “Run away, huh? And where would we go?” His head tips back and his eyes close, allowing himself to be completely immersed in this new fictional world. One so safe and warm, a domestic life the two of you could never truly have.

“The countryside maybe?” You reply, playing with the silver hair at the base of his neck. “You like sheep, hm?”

Kakashi’s heart trembles. “Yeah, I do like sheep.” His eyes crinkle with the wide grin resting on his lips. “The countryside does sound nice. Just you and me, and some sheep.” The smell of the eucalyptus body wash he gradually stole from you washes over you. 

“Just imagine it… you at the top of a hill, surrounded by sheep. The warm sun on your skin gives you a nice, summer glow.” His voice waivers from one tied to this reality to a more soothing one, a Kakashi that is far away from the gruesome reality he knows. “The sky would be a light blue, the clouds big, fluffy, and white. You’d look stunning.” His hands now trace delicate patterns down the small of your back. 

“Me? Get a load of yourself, handsome,” You say, resting your palms against his cheeks. They warm under your words. “The most handsome shinobi in all the land.” You finish the sentiment with a soft kiss on the top of his nose. 

He hums, covering your hand with his own larger one. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He grips your hand, placing peck after peck down the inside of your wrist. It’s your turn to blush. His other hand grips the plush of your hip, a bit rougher than before. 

“Let’s get married.”

His actions falter, but just for a moment. He stands a bit straighter, eyebrows quirking at your words like he’s not sure what to exactly make of it. “Are you serious?” It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it before, but he’s surprised that you would bring up such a topic so suddenly. It’s different than your usual banter. He knows you're being serious, but he needs to hear you say it. That you want to get married to him. That you want him.

“Of course.” You gently remove his hands from their places on your body and guide him to your shared bedroom. “Do you think Lady Tsunade would be the officiant?”

He snickers at the thought. “I have no doubt she’d take it seriously,” he muses. “But I do think she’d take the opportunity to embarrass the hell out of us, as payback for all the headaches we’ve caused her.”

Grinning, you push him down onto the fleece duvet below. He releases a soft grunt and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to straddle his waist and lower torso. “And then there’d be the wedding night. Just you and me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry as he looks up to you. His hands wander up and down your hips, pinching every so often. 

“And the sheep?” you ask as you press one, two, three kisses across his face.

Kakashi nods his head, breathing hitching at the sudden onslaught of affection from you. “Of course. I’m sure they’d love to be a part of our special night.” He teases. 

You lay your head against his chest, feeling every beat and thrum of his heart. His hand drifts up the cradle the back of your head, guiding you to a more comfortable position. He lets out a content sigh and threads his fingers through your hair once more. Soft and tender, just the way you like. “You know, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you.”

He expects a response but is met with your breathing reaching a soft, comfortable pattern. Kakashi smiles, resting his lips against your forehead. The simple idea of him being able to live the rest of his life with you is enough to let any worry wash away, and he drifts to sleep with you by his side.

[julietsf1]

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had. 

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1.     Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2.     Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

 “Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug. 

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.” 

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1.     Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2.     I was not as bad as he expected.

3.     I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

[redhoodkisser]

two birds with one stone

your best friend sets you up on a blind date, fantastic. but, oh – the guy is kind of handsome..

warnings : none!

You'd told your best friend multiple times to not set you up on a blind date with a random person. What if they're a creep?! Well, clearly she didn't care about the risks of you getting murdered during a blind date.

Here you are, standing in front of the restaurant you were supposed to meet your blind date at. Great, just great. According to your best friend, his favourite colour is.. red? So you just wore your favourite wine red dress and paired it with black heels, doesn't take much to impress a man, does it?

You let out a sigh before stepping inside of the restaurant. You scanned around before your eyes landed on a certain man, your date. You were praying for help in your head as you approached the table he was sitting at.

“Hi, you're Jason, right?” You ask, giving him a warm smile. He looks at you up and down before nodding, “yeah, I'm Jason. Take a seat, pretty girl.” Your cheeks reddened slightly when he called you pretty, hoping he didn't notice. You settled down in the chair infront of him. You wanted to stay in for the night, not go out on a stupid date, but here she is. The atmosphere was awkward already, neither of them making conversation. Your hand was flipping through the menu, trying to distract yourself. But, you couldn't avoid him for long, eventually needing to start some type of conversation. You didn't want to waste your friend's 'hard work' hooking you up with this guy.

You exhaled, trying to calm yourself down. “So.. any hobbies in particular?” It was the most simple question, yet it made your chest feel a bit tight. You waited for his reply, watching him think about his answer. After a minute or so, he gave you an answer, “I like literature. You know, books and writing. All that jazz.” Oh, that was.. an unexpected answer? You thought he'd like something that was more intense. Though, his answer soothed the tightness in your chest, making you a bit relieved.

Your train of thoughts were suddenly stopped by the waiter that approached your table, asking you both what you were going to order. You looked at Jason, allowing him to order first since you'd been mindlessly flipping through the menu without inspecting it properly. While Jason was placing his order, you quickly flipped backwards through the menu and tried to find something simple and filling to you. Eventually, you landed on spaghetti. “Um, just the spaghetti please. If there is any, I'd like wine.” Jason was surprised by your choice of drink, but said nothing about it.

While you both waited for your food, he suddenly asked, “so, what's a pretty girl like you doing still single?” It was such a blunt question, but you couldn't exactly just avoid it. “Kinda hard to find a boyfriend when all they want is sex or.. just one night stands.” You said as your finger was fidgeting with your dress. A shaky sigh left you as you continued, “a-and, I had awful experiences in past relationships.” Jason was listening, nodding at everything you were saying. Hearing you say that had him extending his hand to yours resting on the table, placing his on top of yours.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Whenever the right time comes, I'll be happy to hear you out, sweetheart.” You looked up at him, a smile making its way onto your lips. You nodded, “thank you, Jason. I'm.. flattered.” He smirked when you said that, “well, it's kinda my thing to make my first date flattered.”

You both talked until your food and drinks arrived, in which you two still talked whilst eating.

Once you both were finished with your food, you offered to split the bill with him but he refused. He paid for both of your meals, and you were being stubborn by telling him you'd pay him back but he absolutely refused. You tried to convince him, but alas, it didn't work. You both were standing outside the restaurant, saying your goodbyes. “So, I'll see you again?” You asked, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. “Yeah, of course. Uh, here's my number. You know, call me if you want another date.” He had his number written on a small piece of paper, ready to be taken by you.

You slowly took the piece of paper, looking at it thoughtfully before looking up at him. “I look forward to seeing you too, Jason,” before she left, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was a quick and sweet gesture she left before walking back to her apartment that wasn't far from the restaurant. His hand was on his cheek, exactly on the spot you'd kiss. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “That girl's gonna be the death of me..”

note ; omg,, first post in 2025 HAHA sorry i havent been posting as much as id like to. i might make a part two to blinddate!jason cs i actually like this concept :3

[emiarainewrites]

MY (scream) DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE!!!!!!

Queen Barbara got Jeffrey Combs for Scream Dream Pod

[lilaccatholic]

aaaaaaaaaahhhh the church job i applied for sent a list of follow up questions which, while a (seemingly?) good sign, is making my anxiety and imposter syndrome flare up SO bad

pray for me????

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[ef-1]

🍷<3

[viperbunnies]

this is not the news i expected to see when i get home

[savage-rhi]

A very deep magenta.

[the-acid-pear]

Having thoughts about Davetrap... Honestly the fact that he's So sentient is so tragic to me. It's like he said he's still a person he just looks different. Even the fact that he still needs food and is eating rats (which he ripped foxy's leg to do so better, unforgivable) yet seems capable of leaving but thing is WHERE to, y'know... I think this is a reality for most non human characters in this game but him being in such a state of disrepair definitely doesn't help, i mean, he literally couldn't be sold off, something he was clearly upset about (I also like that he called the maze shit a gig like that's cute, that's just his job).

Like its just, Dave was never much of anything, at all, we don't even know if this guy has a fucking home, but he still had some things in his favor, he was still somewhat well put and social and shit, so for him to be left like this it's like... I said it like thrice but its tragic its just tragic, man OT2

[tirfpikachu]

tfw i have $948cad and rent is $980 AND MY PLACE IS A WRECK

[spadefish]

.