#I'm Sorry Flower Arrangements

[floristusa]

I'm Sorry Flower Delivery Camden NJ - Creations by Jenn

Say “I am Sorry” with fresh flowers, delectable sweet delicacies, and magnificent gift baskets from Creations By Jenn. Order “I am sorry” flower delivery today and they'll be delivered fresh to the recipient's home or business in Camden, NJ, and nearby locations.

[skarloeyspa]

floral train!!!!

[mrsbarnesblog]

my girl

masterlist

requests are open

summary: even if you knew that you and Rafe were just hooking up, hearing his friend's comments about you, while you were preparing a venue for the event, hurt more than you expected it to

word count: 2k.

warnings: fwb (or smth like that) to lovers, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, Rafe's friends lol, swearing

a/n: soft Rafe is my weakness, I'm sorry. he's on my mind 24/7 and I literally don't know what to write

You were running around the outdoor venue with boxes full of pastry, where in a few hours there was going to be an annual celebration with lots of rich people. For some reason, Ward Cameron, who was paying for everything here, decided that your father’s small bakery was good enough to feed all of the kooks, so from the afternoon on, you were organizing tables to make everything look perfect. 

The place itself looked truly magical—decorated with a lot of flower arrangements, lights and expensive furniture. It was located at Figure 8, so you obviously never had the opportunity to visit it before. It was Kook’s territory, and even with your family’s bakery, which was pretty popular on the island, you were not welcome here.

Just a few minutes ago, Ward himself came to the venue with Rafe and his son’s best friends in order to check how everything was going. 

As soon as your eyes met Rafe’s, you both stopped for a few seconds, too shocked to see each other in a public place. What happened between you and Kook's prince was something that you had never expected to get into, yet here you were. 

You didn’t know what got into you that one night, but out of nowhere, Rafe was talking to you, smiling, looking all sexy and without his usual cockiness, so you couldn’t resist him. 

It wasn’t that you even regretted your decision; it just became more weird every single time you met because he wasn’t bad. Rafe Cameron wasn’t an asshole, which everyone made him seem to be. He was affectionate and surprisingly soft, always checking on you while you two were together and never pressuring you to leave. You wholeheartedly had to admit that it became more than just sex after a few weeks, no matter how hard you tried to deny it. 

You were definitely not dating, mostly because he had never asked you to, but you two were always texting about random stuff, he would even pick you up to hang out at his secret spot on the beach, or just to simply sit in his truck with lots of food and talk. Part of you hated it, but Rafe made you feel so comfortable and safe around him so you were scared to push it and ask him what was happening between you. 

Rafe’s eyes stayed fixated on you as his father, Kelce and Topper stood near him, looking around the venue and chatting. But he could not care less about it because his entire attention was drawn to you and how adorable you looked in your pink tennis skirt and simple white polo with the bakery's logo on it. 

He may or may not be responsible for Ward’s choice of bakery to work with, because Rafe made sure to accidentally mention it a few times, knowing that it would be a good profit for your family. Yet, seeing you here slightly took him off guard, as the first thought that appeared in his head was to go up to you, flirt and make you blush, or just simply kiss you. But he couldn’t, right? At least not until he properly talked to you. 

“Damn, she’s hot, even for a pogue. No wonder you hit it a few times, bro. I'd do it too.” The moment words left Topper’s mouth, Rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach. Kelce snickered, fistbumping Topper, and Rafe cursed himself for running his mouth. He really considered drowning his friends in the nearest lake. 

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Rafe seethed through gritted teeth, elbowing his friend. 

“I would appreciate you both watching your language.” Ward sighed, wincing and rubbing a hand on his beard. He looked at Rafe, who completely ignored his questioning gaze while trying to figure out how to fix it. 

Even with you standing with your back facing them, Rafe saw that you heard it too. Your hand froze in the air, still holding a cupcake, and your shoulders sagged in disappointment and hurt.

Only a few seconds later, you came back to your senses. Your back straightened, you finished decorating the table and you put empty boxes in the trash can. You turned around, showing the fakest smile Rafe had ever seen on your face. Your nails digged in your palm to control yourself, and you stepped closer to the four of them. 

“Mr. Cameron, thank you for working with our bakery. It really means a lot for my family. I did everything and now the event manager should carry on. I, um, should go. I have a lot of stuff to do. Have a great night.” Your eyes were glossy, with tears clearly visible on your waterline. As you awkwardly and in a rush thanked Ward, you didn’t even look at Rafe or either of his friends, knowing damn well that it would break you. 

You didn’t even wait for Ward’s response before storming off, trying to get as far away from these people as possible. Your chest felt too heavy, and the lump in your throat was so hard that you could barely speak. But you didn’t even walk a few feet away before a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around. 

“What do you want from me?” You snapped at Rafe, trying to yank your hand out of his grip. “Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“This is not what you think it is.” He said, searching for your eyes. His brows were knit together, and his eyes were big and round, almost in fear. 

“Oh no? Isn’t it what I am to you? Just a hit. Just another one on your long list. Why are you bothering to explain anything to me anyway?” You laughed, barely able to hold back your tears. As if it were not enough that you cried in front of Rafe, neither his friends nor his father seemed to mind their own business, obviously listening to your conversation. 

“No. You know that it was more for me, Y/N. I’m serious about you, okay? Topper just cannot filter his fucking mouth.” 

“Stop doing it, Rafe!” You broke, not bothering to hide anymore. “Stop playing with my feelings when you know damn well that you won’t have anything serious with me. I’m not rich, I’m not a kook and I’m not like the prefect girls you usually hang out with. I get it, okay?” You yanked your hand out of his hold, not missing the way Rafe tried to catch it back. Wiping away hot and angry tears with the back of your hand, you look him right in the eyes. “I just wish you didn't give me hope in the first place, because I feel so fucking stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I don’t care about your money or your status, for that matter. I want you and I mean it. Just let me explain—”

"This is why you would not even speak to me in front of anyone, right? This is why we were always sneaking around. Because you want me, not because you’re too good to be around me.“ You confronted him, not even caring who could hear or see you. From the position where you were standing, you saw a bunch of young waitresses standing not so far away, pretending to work on the table but eyeing you and Rafe every second.

“I’m an asshole. I know it. I know that I didn’t put the label on us and that I fucked up, not doing the right thing.” He stepped closer to you, not breaking eye contact to show that he was sincere. "When Topper and Kelce saw me with you, I panicked and said the only thing that made sense: we were just hooking up. I didn’t want it to be that way, fuck…” Rafe screched the back of his neck in agitation.

“You should go back and stop embarrassing yourself talking with a pogue. I bet your friends found it entertaining. How much did you tell them, hm? Did you share every single detail of what we were doing?” Your voice broke at the end.

“I didn’t tell them anything!”

“Well, I don’t believe you, Rafe!” You sniffed, looking away to distract yourself from the look in Rafe’s eyes. His blue eyes were round, full of concern and it seemed like he was almost panicking. "I understand how guys like you talk about women, but I guess I was stupid enough to believe you would not do that to me. So yeah, you got what you wanted from me and now you can go back to—”

You were rumbling one moment, and the next, two hands pressed on your cheeks, tilting your head up, and Rafe's lips were on yours. You gasped, hands freezing in the air in shock, before slowly moving to Rafe’s shirt to tug on it. 

He didn’t rush; he just firmly yet gently held you against him while his tongue slipped into your mouth, savoiring every second. It’s been just two days since you last seen each other, but God, you missed kissing him. Even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Rafe's palms were on your face, guiding you, while his kiss made your head feel empty and light. He smelled and tasted so good and you hated how quickly you got used to the feeling of his touch on your skin. 

“Everyone can see us.” You mumbled into his mouth. 

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N.” He furrowed, still feeling the wetness on your cheeks from crying. With his thumbs gently rubbing your soft skin, he gave you a few quick kisses before continuing. "I swear, all I said to them was that we just hooked up, because it is what it was at that moment. I wouldn’t have shared anything intimate about you, baby. Please believe me when I say this.” Rafe sighed, resting his forehead on yours. His nose bumped against your—something that he started doing when you were alone in the bed, laying face to face and just looking at each other. "I am sorry I made you feel like you were just sex for me, because you weren't. Spending time with you was the best fucking time of my day, and whatever that was between us, I don’t want it to end.”

“Me neither…” You whispered, feeling warmth rushing through your body when Rafe wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you even closer into him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then you felt him turning around, seemingly studying people around you.

“Since everyone saw us today, do you think I can take you away with me right now?” 

“Take me away? But you have an event in a few hours, and I have to work.”

“No, now we have an event and we have to find you a dress. I’ll handle your work and find someone who can deliver your orders.” Your head snapped up, only to see a proud grin on Rafe's face.

“You’re joking, right?” You pulled away, laughing. “I don’t have such clothes nor do I have money to buy them, and I definitely wasn’t invited.” 

“That’s why I’m taking you to the store now. And since you are my girl now, you’ll be my plus one.” He just shrugged, probably unaware that he had just filled your stomach with freaking butterflies. 

“I’m your girl?” 

Rafe silently looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, and it seemed like he was trying to reassure himself about something. His eyes then shifted to your lips, as he dragged you back to his body, lowering himself to mumble against your mouth. “Yeah, you are my girl.”

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt skips Tara Yummy's 1M party to have quality time with his girlfriend.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt's car glided through the moonlit streets of Los Angeles as he headed toward Y/N's apartment after dropping off his brothers at Tara Yummy's 1 million celebration party. The radio played the playlist created by him and Y/N, which they constantly fed with new songs that reminded themselves of each other.

Matt smiled as he looked to the little surprise he had prepared for his girlfriend. He made a brief stop at a flower shop on the way, where he bought a simple bouquet of pink tulips - Y/N's favorite. His eyes momentarily found the bouquet carefully wrapped and placed on the passenger seat before returning his gaze to the road.

Upon arriving at the building where Y/N lived, his access to the parking lot was quickly granted, the doorman already knowing him very well. The boy didn't take long to take the bouquet in hand, locking the doors and taking the elevator to the corresponding floor.

The sound of the keys against the front door lock sounded faintly through the living room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing seconds later, Matt quickly taking off his shoes and resting them against the wall.

"Baby?" His voice echoed through the walls, expanding to the nearest rooms, while his eyes quickly surrounded the space, searching for the girl.

"Kitchen!" Y/N shouted back, an involuntary smile growing on her face almost automatically, her body reacting to Matt's presence.

Matt made his way to the kitchen and found Y/N with her back to him, focused on the counter as she moved her arms over the ceramics. With a smile on his face, he approached her silently and hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his hands on her stomach covered by her hoodie and little green apron.

"Hi, pretty boy." Y/N murmured softly, rubbing her hands together to shake off the flour before wrapping her arms around his, caressing the hoodie-covered skin. "I thought you were going to Tara's party."

"Without my girl? Never." He responded in a low tone against her neck, laying his head on her right shoulder so that his face was facing her neck and sealing her jaw gently. "I brought you something." Matt pulled away slightly and retrieved the bouquet he had rested on the table.

Y/N turned to him with eyes full of curiosity and confusion, which soon turned into pure ecstasy, her heart overflowing with love.

"Oh my... Matt, they're beautiful!" The girl beamed, accepting the bouquet and cradling it in her arms as if it was a newborn.

"I always bring you flowers, I don't know how you still react so surprised." Matt murmured jokingly, smiling as he watched her enjoy the little gift.

As Y/N carefully arranged the tulips in a new ceramic vase, Matt approached the oven to peek at what she was preparing. The delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation.

"Did you make cookies?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Yes! I was baking it to take it to you tomorrow." Y/N nodded quickly, returning to her starting position. "Do you want some, hon?"

"Yes, please."

Matt watched in awe as Y/N bent slightly, opening the stove door and carefully taking out the baking tray with her hand covered in the soft yellow fabric glove, resting it on the counter.

He knew he was lucky to have someone so incredible in his life, someone who cared about making every moment special.

The girl rose to her tiptoes after closing the oven, opening the cabinet above the stove and retrieving two dessert plates designed with little strawberries. She placed them side by side next to the tray before taking a small spatula and moving two cookies to each plate carefully, afraid of breaking or dropping them.

Matt walked over, taking one of the cookies from the tray with the tip of his fingertips, ignoring the slight burn from the high temperature. He lifted his own hand, blowing on the sweet before biting off a piece, closing his eyes automatically and letting out a sigh of pleasure through his nose. The way the cookie was still warm made it melt in his mouth, the chocolate exploding against his tongue, multiplying the variety of flavors.

"Is it good?" Y/N giggled, watching him with a smile gracing her face, receiving a quick nod with wide blue eyes. "Come on, baby."

She took the plates in her hands delicately, leaving her kitchen and walking to the balcony with Matt following close behind as he licked his fingers, removing all the chocolate residue.

The night was cool and clear, with the sky dotted with twinkling stars. The couple snuggled into the cushioned chairs that decorated the small space, Matt quickly reaching for the pink blanket that was folded on the small table on the right corner, opening it and throwing it over his and his girlfriend's legs, protecting them against the light breeze.

"Oh! Matt, remember the dog constellation I was telling you about the other day?" Y/N's excited voice cut through the comfortable silence, her eyes lighting up just like the stars above them.

"Sirios? No, wait, Sirius... Right?" Matt frowned, a cute look of confusion spreading across his face as his eyes darted from Y/N to the sky and back again.

"Exactly! Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Right there." The girl raised her arm that wasn't holding her plate, pointing her index finger upwards.

Matt looked in the indicated direction, navigating through the stars for a few seconds until he found it.

"Wait, it's actually beautiful. What else do you know about it?"

Y/N smiled truthful, her heart warming at being able to talk more about something she loved so much, without having restrictions or feeling ashamed for her excitement.

"Well, Sirius is a binary star, which means it is actually two stars orbiting around each other. It is part of the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog, and is known as 'The Dog Stars'. Oh, oh! Do you remember Sirius Black? My favorite Harry Potter character? So, this star..."

Matt listened intently, slowly chewing the small cookie pieces while keeping his eyes fixed on Y/N. Her passion for astronomy and the universe always fascinated him, and there wasn't a time when she brought up the subject that he wasn't willing to give her his full attention.

As the night progressed, Matt and Y/N continued to stargaze, lost in conversations about the cosmos and its mysteries.

As the last cookie crumbs disappeared from the plates and the sky began to brighten with the sun that appeared over the horizon, Y/N felt a wave of comfort and contentment envelop her body, resting the ceramics on the corner table and moving gently towards Matt, settling on his lap.

The boy opened a big, involuntary smile, automatically wrapping her with his arms and the pink blanket, protecting them from the slight cold of dawn, while she laid her head on his chest, feeling the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat and serene breathing.

Together, they kept their eyes fixed on the sky that was beginning to take on color, the sound of the first cars on the street, and the laughter of children going to school filling their ears.

Little by little, Y/N began to feel the effects of exhaustion after staying up all night, her body relaxing against Matt's comforting warmth. Sleep came like a gentle wave, enveloping her senses in an embrace.

Her breathing became slow and regular, while her body became limp and light. Her brain shutting down and giving in to deep sleep, to the point where she didn't hear the little whisper of "good night, petal" from her boyfriend, let alone his arms carrying her to her bed, where they finally slept in each other's arms.

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[violetarks]

third year! bakugou katsuki thinks it's pathetic how everyone tries to ask you to be their valentine while you stand absolutely awkwardly and oblivious to their advances.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at how you tilt your head and ask 'what do you mean?' when a new second-year tries to confess through a heartfelt letter a week before valentines day. he's sitting in the cafeteria, a few tables away from you where you stand with your tray. his friends catch his line of sight and begin to watch too as you awkwardly take the letter and mention how it's your favourite colour, what a coincidence.

"man, poor y/n." kaminari sighs, "been getting bombarded with valentine's day proposals."

"acting like you werent one last year." sero snickers, elbowing the blonde, who replies with 'shut up!'.

"y/n, todoroki and momo have to be the most popular third years. i saw todoroki carrying a fruit arrangement yesterday with 'be my valentine' on some flags." mina states, drinking her orange juice.

jirou retorts, poking her food, "did you see y/n's shoe locker when they opened it? they were basically drowning in all those letters. and their desk was full of teddy bears and hearts and flowers."

"yaoyorozu told me that she felt so bad because she rejected someone who choreographed a flash mob for her." kirishima inputs, "but seriously, so many people have tried getting with y/n, it's insane."

katsuki only rolls his eyes again as you thank the person, who runs away giddily. you're so uninterested in the person that you just pocket it in your blazer for later. katsuki chuckles at the action before returning to his food.

he thinks it's so funny that everyone is fawning over you. he understood todoroki and yaoyorozu, they've been popular since day one. but you? what did anyone see in you?

"hey, bakugou, are you alright?" you ask, standing in front of him on the porch of the dormitory. it's now five days later and he blinks himself back to reality and swallows the lump in his throat. "you were kinda' just staring at me and that girl just then..."

it's true, he was. a first year, some lovesick teen girl, came to confess to you just then. you hold some chocolates in your hand and a bouquet of roses in another. your third this week, he tallies.

"i—i wasn't." he stammers, looking away. he was leaning against the pillar, watching you as he took in some fresh air. it was pure coincidence, he says. "what... did you tell 'em?"

"i felt a bit sorry, she cried a little when i said i'm not a fan of this kind of chocolate." you express, showing him the box. katsuki smirks. you were so blunt. "i still accepted it though, to make her feel better. i don't even know her, though."

"strange." he responds, staring at you, "so what now then?"

"do you want it?"

"i don't want your fucking confession candy." he scoffs, furrowed brows. he's irritated at the offer and you just tuck the chocolates underneath your arm. "why'd you say 'no'?"

"i... don't know her." you state as if it was obvious. he blinks and looks away. "i dunno', i've been getting asked a lot recently."

"that so?" it's so pathetic, how anyone would trip and fall at your feet at the slight chance to share valentine's day with you. he could think of a thousand things better to do tomorrow than spend it with you—

"how come you haven't asked me yet?" you inquire, pursing your lips, "to be your valentine?"

"hah?" he huffs out, making the most outraged expression on his face, "what the hell did you just say to me?"

you sigh, opening the entrance door with your new gifts, "nevermind."

he stares at you as you leave him alone on the porch. questions swirl in his mind, making him think about you even more. is this how you made so many admirers? you just... made them think about you? you were absolutely crazy.

that's got to me the most pathetic thing about valentine's day, right?

wrong.

katsuki annoyedly drops the chocolates that he knows for sure you love. and as he passes the flower section, oh god, the amount of time he spent trying to figure out which ones were the perfect ones. the cashier looks at him knowingly, wishing him 'goof luck' on his endeavour. katsuki scoffs and tells them to shut his mouth.

what's pathetic is that katsuki readies himself for asking you. now that he's got confirmation that you were expecting him to, he would do it. he is standing in front of your dorm door, holding the flowers and chocolates and teddy bear in his arms. he knows you have hundreds in your room right now, but... he's pathetic.

when his hand goes up to knock on your door, the elevator reaches the floor and opens to reveal you in the sports uniform.

you walk up, typing on your phone when you look up to your dorm to see him. "oh, hey."

"hey." he mumbles, trying his best to hide the presents behind his back, "went on a run?"

"no, quirk training, actually." you respond, unlockong your dorm. you walk in and turn your head. "did you need to talk to me?"

"well... i—"

"are those for valentine's day?" you point to the flowers that are badly hiden behind him.

katsuki grunts, finally revealing them, "y—yeah... i don't know how to do this."

"come in." you say, inviting him into your dorm. he nervously enters and closes the door behind him. you sit at our desk, leg over your knee, almost like you're inspecting him thoroughly. "so, who is it for?"

he stops. "huh?"

"i mean, who are you asking?" you mumble out. he doesn't know what to say. do you not remember asking him to ask you yesterday? "you're looking for advice, aren't you?"

suddenly, he's on the fire. he's in the position that he made fun of those other people for being in. and it fucking sucks.

it takes all his courage to sigh out, "no... no, you idiot. i'm asking you."

"wha—? me?" you point at yourself.

"yes! here!" he practically shoves them into your hands and steps away away. "i... want you to be my valentine tomorrow. please."

his harsh tone makes you rethink his statement. but katsuki sees a smile dawn on your face regardless, something the others who have asked you haven't seen.

"thank you, bakugou. i love them."

he knows damn well you do.

"i'd be happy to be your valentine." you confirm, standing up and placing the flowers on your desk. you put the chocolates and teddy on your bed, smiling the whole time. he gulps in anticipation, despite you already saying 'yes'. "thank you, truly. it's perfect."

katsuki clears his throat, hands in his pockets and he looks away, "'s nothin'."

you chuckle and step towards him, hand on his shoulder as you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"whatever you say. where did you wann' go tomorrow?"

he thinks it's pathetic how on valentine's day, you drag him to all the couple stalls and events, and even do a hand-reading (katsuki lets out a sigh of relief when they said that you two are quite the perfect match), but when it's with you, it's a lot less embarrassing to do it. in fact, he'd relive this whole day again if he could.

what's pathetic is how all those people thought they could have this time with you, when all you ever wanted was bakugou katsuki himself.

[poisonlove]

You² | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Wednesday hated Thornhill.

After that encounter in the library, she had done everything to avoid Y/N. Yet, fate seemed to take pleasure in her misfortune: a group activity paired her with the one person who made her feel the most out of place at Nevermore, making her realize just how unlucky she truly was.

After all, she was an Addams; she knew very well that luck was not on their side.

The activity involved collecting the Nightshade Bloom, better known as the Dreamshade Flower. It was an extremely rare plant found only in the Crackstone Forest. She had no idea where in the forest it grew, but she knew it preferred humid spots: probably near the waterfalls or in the Misty Glade.

"Are you sure it's this way?" Y/N asked, looking around with awe.

Wednesday stopped and turned to her partner, an eyebrow raised in disapproval. The question irritated her but when she saw the terror on the girl’s face, she decided to let it go.

"Of course, I'm sure," Wednesday replied in her characteristic monotone voice. She blinked and observed Y/N using her hand like a flashlight to navigate the darkness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," Y/N justified, her Y/C eyes scanning the surroundings before turning back to Wednesday.

A strange flutter gripped Wednesday's stomach, forcing her to break eye contact. She didn’t like this feeling at all. Experimenting with new emotions, especially ones she didn’t understand, was not her style.

Without saying a word, Wednesday resumed walking, her right hand holding the makeshift torch while her left brushed aside branches that slowed their progress. An unsettling silence enveloped the woods, and Wednesday was oddly grateful for it.

But, of course, Y/N had to break it.

"So... I haven't seen you in the library lately," Y/N began, trying to spark a conversation, a way to distract herself and learn more about the gothic Addams. She had done some research about Wednesday, but her name didn’t appear on any social media, which honestly disappointed her.

Wednesday made a strange sound in her throat.

"I was busy," she replied coldly. It wasn't a lie. She had indeed been occupied writing her story and avoiding the person standing in front of her. She had nothing against Y/N; rather, it was the absence of disdain that bothered her.

"I understand... Enid told me you write a lot... and that you're not exactly a social person" Y/N confessed with a hint of sadness.

Wednesday stopped, noticing how Y/N hesitated to push aside a branch, suddenly halting. Enid? Why were they talking about me? Y/N looked at Wednesday, confusion evident on her face.

"Why were you talking about me?" Wednesday asked, her voice sharp.

Y/N's cheeks flushed.

"Um... I'm participating in the Poe Cup  and she mentioned you... the only member I don't know," she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her tone. The flames in her hand illuminated her Y/C eyes, and Wednesday couldn’t help but think how strikingly attractive she looked in that light.

Quickly, Wednesday averted her gaze and turned away.

Y/N let out a sigh she didn't realize she'd been holding, falling back into step behind Wednesday. Addams pondered Y/N's words, especially the fact that she would be competing in the Poe Cup with them. Honestly, she didn’t want to participate in the tournament again, but the prospect of competing alongside Y/N intrigued her.

"Have you finished reading the book?" Wednesday asked coldly.

She enjoyed the interaction they were having, and a part of her desperately wanted to keep talking to Y/N. Yes, Wednesday Addams, the most antisocial girl at Nevermore, found herself wanting to engage with Y/N.

A huge smile spread across Y/N's face.

"Yes, it was really interesting and helpful for my research," she confessed excitedly, glancing at Wednesday, who observed her from the corner of her eye. The moonlight highlighted Addams' pale skin, and her perfectly arranged braids gave her an air of authority and glamour.

Y/N had developed a small crush on Addams.

"Good," Wednesday murmured in a sharp tone, diverting her gaze from Y/N.

A strange flush crept onto her cheeks, and her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Y/N’s radiant smile. Something was definitely off within her.

She unconsciously rubbed her cheeks.

"Have we arrived?" Y/N asked nervously, her fear growing. She had heard a couple of howls during their trek that made her skin crawl, but seeing Wednesday's calm demeanor made her decide—no, force herself—that everything was under control.

"Yes." Wednesday pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile.

It was the third time that night that her lips had inexplicably wanted to stretch into a smile, and each time she held back. She had to maintain her reputation as the gothic weirdo of Nevermore.

The fog enveloped their path, and Wednesday felt relieved to finally reach the Misty Glade. If they were lucky, they might find the damn flower in this area; otherwise, she would have to cross to the other side of Crackstone Forest toward the waterfalls.

Wednesday took off her backpack and pulled a small basket from inside.

"Can you recognize the Nightshade Bloom?" she asked, looking at Y/N. The latter nodded decisively.

Y/N walked opposite Wednesday, scanning the ground for any signs of light, hoping to spot the flower.

Meanwhile, Wednesday delved deeper into the mist, focusing on finding the blooms.

(...)

Wednesday crouched down and carefully picked the flower, trying not to damage its luminescent petals. She placed it in the basket alongside the others and walked toward another damp area. Half an hour had passed since the search began, and Wednesday felt increasingly uncomfortable in the oppressive silence.

Where on earth were you?

"Y/N?" she called loudly.

All she received in response was a howl. What if you were in danger? Wednesday gripped the basket tightly and scanned the surroundings, determined to spot you, abandoning her task of collecting more flowers.

Her feet moved westward as she squinted, trying to extend her field of vision, but the damned fog was too thick. A strange sensation settled in her chest, something that edged on fear. But she wasn't scared; she was... uncomfortable due to your silence?

"Y/N, if this is a joke, it’s not funny!" Wednesday exclaimed loudly, looking around with heightened vigilance. Her heartbeat quickened.

The worst scenarios flashed in her mind, prompting her to quicken her pace.

"Ahhhhh!" you screamed.

Wednesday's eyes widened, and she raced toward the sound of your cry. Something had gone wrong. The brunette increased her running speed, breathing heavily, a strange light contrasting with the darkness of the forest.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly upon arrival.

Y/N was sitting on the ground, an enormous smile plastered across her face as she held the Nightshade Bloom in her hands. Her Y/C eyes met Wednesday's, shining with pure happiness.

"I found my first flower!" she exclaimed, beaming.

Wednesday let out an exasperated sigh, and at that moment, she wanted to strangle Y/N with her bare hands. Had she run for nothing? Was it merely a scream of joy? Her expression softened as she watched you approach, curiosity written all over your face, your eyes sparkling as they scanned her basket.

"What? You’ve already found six?!" Y/N exclaimed in surprise.

Wednesday couldn't help but smile, a spontaneous and genuine smile that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. The dimples were evident as her lips curved, making Y/N wonder how something so beautiful could be so rarely seen.

Just like the Nightshade Bloom.

Wednesday felt relieved to see Y/N safe, and despite a part of her wanting to kill her for making her think the worst, another part couldn’t shake the memory of the enthusiasm radiating from her for finding the flower.

She would let this incident slide, simply because it was you.

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | In which the JJK men receive flowers.

Content | gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, toji x reader, reader is implied (but not necessarily) fem, toji's is ever so slightly suggestive, fluff ♡

Word Count | ~1.4k

A/N: The banner quote is not a proven statistic, but a marketing strategy once employed by Interflora based on a customer study. It was later developed into a social media/influencer campaign which included renaming their flowers with more "masculine" sounding names to increase Father's Day flower sales and scare partners everywhere into purchasing unnecessarily gendered plants. The more you know.

Gojo

Blue ain't your color

What started as a simple trip to the supermarket has turned into two greenhouses, three floral shops, five phone calls (one of which kept you on hold for twenty minutes!) and now you're on your third day of searching for the perfect flowers with which to surprise your boyfriend.

You're not a botanist. How were you to know that naturally occurring blue flowers were the rarest sort? All you wanted was a little arrangment to match the hue of Gojo's crystal eyes, now here you were getting laughed at from your latest failed internet lead for not knowing hydrangeas have a season...and this is not it. Not wanting to go home empty-handed, you settle for a box of sweets with a bright blue ribbon and make your way back for his return from his latest mission.

Later that day while checking the time, you pause to admire the lock screen on your phone. It's a picture of Satoru, goofy smile plastered across his face, arms spread wide with flat palms facing outward, knees high as he runs with full abandon through a field of...

"Daisies! For me??" His voice nearly cracks as he takes the wild bundle in his hands, a vibrant blue ribbon holding them neatly together.

"Mhm! And there's some chocolate too!" You add, gesturing to a now plain white box on the kitchen table.

"You didn't have to do that!" He practically squeals, unable to hide his childlike excitement.

"I wanted to. Besides," you smile coyly at the daisies you picked mere moments ago. "They reminded me of you!"

Geto

World's greatest mom

It was the morning of Mother's Day. You, yourself, were very much not a mother. And yet, here you stood, one little girl perched on each hip as you held them close in a desperate attempt to quiet their teary sobs outside your local flower shop.

"I'm sorry girls," you cooed, bouncing them as you spoke. "It looks like everyone's sold out."

Earlier that morning you were awoken by two eager faces as Nanako and Mimiko had snuck into Geto's bedroom, where you had spent the night, to tell you their grand idea.

"Today's Mother's Day," Mimiko whispered shyly to you as she tugged gently on the sheets.

"We want to get Geto carnations!" Nanako continued boldly, spokesperson of the pair. "Because he's the best mom ever!"

If sweetness could kill, you'd be a goner. Your heart was threatening to burst as it was. How could you possibly say no?

Together, the three of you snuck out of the house and headed to find some Mother's Day carnations for "Mr. Mom" himself. But, as many a woeful partner has learned, the morning of Mother's Day is the worst time to find flowers. So, here you stood, empty-handed, a sad little girl on each hip.

What would Suguru do? You thought to yourself. He never missed an opportunity to make the girls happy, always finding creative ways to put smiles on their faces, truly earning the title, "Best Mom Ever". Strengthening your resolve, it was your turn to tell the girls your grand idea.

~~~

Suguru woke to the sound of giggles and crinkling paper. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he blinked several times before registering the sight in front of him.

"Happy Mother's Day!" the three of you said in unison, holding out a bouquet of homemade flowers to the now very confused sorcerer.

"What's all this?" He said looking at the small puffs of pink tissue paper and their green pipe-cleaner stems.

"We wanted to get you flowers...but they were all sold out," Mimiko muttered apologetically.

"So we made some instead!" Finished a bright-eyed Nanako.

"I love them!" He beamed, pretending to sniff the crinkled paper blossoms. "But...why?"

"Tell him, girls!" You said, stifling a laugh.

"Because you're the Best Mom Ever!"

Nanami

Forget-me-not

Dinner was ready, the table was set, and your husband , Kento, would be home any time now. The final piece to your romantic evening surprise was the floral arrangement you ordered specifically with him in mind. Heaving the large display to the table's center, you step back to admire your work. The flowers were a nice touch, inspired by a chilling post you'd seen on the internet- one you couldn't get out of your head.

As Kento stepped through the door, his eyes settled on the large arrangement of pure white lilies threatening to swallow up your little dining table for two.

"What's all this?"

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"Well it worked," he said with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. "One question, though. Why all the flowers?"

"I saw something online that said most men don't get flowers until their funeral!" You exclaim.

"Hmm..." He nods as he inspects the elegant bundle. "And were you anticipating mine? My funeral, that is?"

"Why would you say such a thing?" You ask, puzzled by his uncharacteristically callous joke.

"'With deepest sympathy,'" he reads aloud, pulling a small folded card from the center of the bouquet.

"WHAT?!" You shriek, yanking the card from his hand. You hadn't even seen it nestled behind the large white blossoms. "But why would-?!"

"You know white lilies are typically a funerary flower, right?" He states in his kind, but matter-of-fact tone.

"But I was sure I-" whipping out your phone you look back on your order realizing all too late that the arrangement you'd chosen from their "best selling" tab had the words "in memorium" just below the listing price. A small groan escapes your throat and then-

"HAH!" Kento's laughter startles you as he doubles over in a rare fit of humor.

"Well I'm glad YOU find this funny," you pout accusingly, feeling your romantic night had fallen to ruin.

"I'm just glad I get to enjoy them WITH you. But, I suppose if things had gone sideways at work today, you would've been prepared either way!"

"NOT funny, Kento!" You snap, one corner of your mouth twitching in contradiction.

"I know, I know," he says, pulling you in for another hug. "I love them. And I certainly won't forget them!" He comforts you.

"Well," you give in with a small chuckle. "They are in memorium."

Toji

Just a little prickly

"Toji," you humphed. "How come you've never given me flowers?"

"You've never given me flowers."

"That's different!"

"How?" He challenged. "Thought you were all about 'equality' or some shit?"

"It's not like you'd even appreciate them!" You objected. "Besides, you couldn't even keep a cactus alive."

"Wanna bet?"

"As a matter of fact I do!"

~~~

A few days later, after stopping by the plant section of a hardware store on your way home, you returned with scrubbiest most pathetic-looking little ball of spikes you could find.

"Oh Tojiiii~" You called out.

"The hell is that?" He said eyeing the ugly little plant.

"It's your new cactus!" You gushed, eyes twinkling with playful malice.

"You really are something else," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he accepted your spiteful gift.

~~~

Weeks passed. Months even. You'd forgotten all about the cactus, having long presumed it dead when one day Toji interrupted your would-be peaceful breakfast with a laugh bordering the maniacle.

"HAH!" He jeered pointing a finger directly in your face. "You wanted flowers?? Get a load of these!" 

From behind his back he plunked a ceramic pot onto the kitchen table, one you'd never seen. In it was the most beautiful little barrel cactus, golden spikes reflecting the morning light. Atop its crest was a perfect halo of brilliant pink flowers. It was nothing short of lovely and you wondered where he got it.

"Wh-where did this come from?" You asked, taken aback.

"What do you mean where??" He grumped. "It's that shitty cactus you gave me. What, don't recognize it?" He teased.

"No it's not. This thing is huge. And it's in an entirely different pot."

"Uh. Yeah. It grew, genius. I had to change its pot like three times."

You stared in utter disbelief. You had no idea he had kept it- no idea he even cared. It was honestly kind of...hot.

"Looks like you just lost a bet. Time to pay up, sweetheart." He boasted.

"Too bad we never decided on a wager." 

"Don't worry," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the bedroom. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

[yesihaveaobsession]

Beautiful as You

Alastor x female! florist reader

Summary: The reader (you) meets Alastor after bringing an order to the hotel, he becomes fond of you and decides to visit you at your little shop.

A/N_- I'm ALIVE! Sorry I have been really unactive I've had horrible writers block but I'm back y'all!!

You’d always loved working with flowers; they had always brought you a sense of peace amidst the chaos of Hell. One day in particular, you received a call from Princess Charlie Morningstar, who was calling from the Hazbin Hotel to place an order for a large arrangement of sunflowers and a few other bright blooms for a special event. You were happy to help her and support her dream, crafting a bouquet that captured the warmth and hope you had always seen in her.

When you arrived at the hotel and knocked on the door to drop off the flowers, you were surprised to be greeted by none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. You were quite starstruck—not just because Charlie wasn’t the one to open the door, but also because you’d heard so many stories about Alastor that seemed to permeate the very atmosphere. After all, who in Hell hadn’t heard of Alastor? But seeing him in person was truly something else.

He greeted you with a broad grin, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place, but the thought didn’t last long. He took the bouquet and the other flowers Charlie had ordered from you, and as his large claws brushed against your smaller hands for just a moment, you felt... a connection?

Since that day, Alastor had taken a particular interest in your little shop downtown. He’d passed by it many times during his outings and had always thought about stopping in for a quick look, but this time it was fate. Alastor began visiting regularly, bringing you a handful of wildflowers he’d picked somewhere. These flowers were beautiful, and you often wondered where—and how far—he’d go to find them for you.

One day, you weren’t at the counter when Alastor made his daily visit. Not to mention, he always seemed to come up with little excuses to see you, telling the others at the hotel that he had "business to attend to," but that business was visiting you. You were in the back room, sorting through a new shipment of flowers and preparing some new orders that had just come in when you heard the door chime. Not thinking much of it, you continued with your work.

You pretty much owned and ran the business by yourself, but your friend helped out and was at the counter. She greeted the customer as usual. Alastor's smile widened, though a hint of confusion flickered in his crimson eyes. "Ah, good afternoon," he greeted, his voice crackling like an old radio. "I was hoping to see a lovely florist—she's about yay tall," he held a hand slightly above your height, with a smile as bright as a sunbeam. "You wouldn’t happen to know where she might be hiding, would you?"

Your friend recognized him instantly and struggled to suppress a smirk. "You mean her?" she asked, deliberately raising her voice as she called your name. You emerged from the back room, wiping your hands on your apron to remove the soil and soot, and paused when you locked eyes with him. He was holding his usual bouquet of wildflowers. You wouldn’t think it would surprise you, but you were surprised that he kept coming back.

There he was, grinning at you like you were the most important thing he'd seen all day.

“Good afternoon, my dear,” Alastor greeted, his voice carrying that old-timey radio crackle that sent shivers down your spine. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“N-No, not at all,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I was just in the back... um, what can I do for you?” You tried to keep your cool, and your friend smirked, clearly figuring it out. Alastor then stepped closer to you, holding out the bouquet.

"These are for you, ma chère." You carefully took the wildflowers from him, your fingers brushing against his once again.

"Thank you, Alastor... That’s very sweet of you, and they are absolutely beautiful." Alastor's smile grew wider, sensing that he had made you happy, and he was pleased with himself. "Perhaps... you might consider bringing another arrangement to the hotel sometime soon? Charlie has been raving about the last one you delivered.”

“I’d be happy to,” you replied, your nervousness slowly easing as you met his gaze.

"Excellent," he said, offering a short bow before turning on his heel to leave. He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder: "Until next time, my dear." You watched as he exited your shop, the door chime ringing softly behind him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Wow,” your friend teased, breaking the silence. “So, how long have you been on first-name terms with the Radio Demon?”

You blushed furiously, unable to hide your flustered state. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just... a customer.”

“Uh-huh,” your friend replied, clearly unconvinced. “A customer who just so happens to bring you flowers and makes you go all starry-eyed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Radio Demon has a crush.”

You tried to protest and glare at them, but deep down, you knew she was right. And you couldn’t wait for the next time—the next order for the hotel, or his visit in general.

[fallingdownhell]

Hi it's me again 😅

Is it okay if I request something very specific and angry cause I'm bad at writing fanfics.

Well if it's okay could you do a Ayato x Reader

«Where Reader is in an arrangement marriage with Ayato but despite this fact she somehow ended up falling in love with him. But for Ayato the Marriage was nothing other than a political stunt. So when you get a sickness you keep it a secret from him until Thoma had a enough tells Ayato but before Ayato could rescue you, you had already succumbed the illness. And lay on the floor in your own pool of blood. That was the day Ayato regretted he's life decisions the most. Had he just listened to he's heart instead of his brain, just maybe you would have told him»

Is this too much to ask?

Of course! I'm so sorry I'm so late with your request. Still hope that it's what you imagined it to be. Pairing: Ayato x Reader Content: female reader; arranged marriage; unhappy marriage; Hanahaki AU; blood; major character death; unhappy ending (if I forgot to mention something, please tell me and I'll add it!) Word count: 2,1k words Requested by: @smaika Hope you enjoy<3

Catching your breath again, you stare down at the bloodied tissue in your hands, mind empty.

It's gotten even worse now. The petals, that were smeared with blood, were now also accompanied by a few thornes scattered here and there.

Now you knew where that scratchy and uncomfortable feeling in your throat came from, at least. It was those thornes, most likely.

With shaking hands, you grab the headboard of the bed, sitting down on the bed while you try to calm yourself down again. The coughing fit has gone by, but there was still blood dripping from your lips. At least you didn't stain the bed sheets, or it would probably have rosen suspicion from the housekeepers.

It has been a few weeks now since this whole thing has started. It began with just a general feeling of getting sick. Just some slight nausea and a sore throat, nothing to wrack your brain too hard about. But then the coughing started, and nothing, no medicine or whatever else you tried seemed to help against it.

And then the blood and flower petals came into the mix. When you coughed up the first red petal, you instantly realized what it was you were suffering through. Coincidentally, that was also the moment when Thoma walked in on you and figured it out, as well.

He had been worried sick about you, seeing as you didn't seem to get better at all. That day, he returned from the city with a new medicine he had planned on giving to you, but when he walked in and saw you, hunched over the sink in the bathroom, blood and bloodied petals in there, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

He was already halfway out the room, hellbent on telling the Master of the estate, and your husband. But you begged him not to, pleaded to him to keep it between the two of you.

Thoma did not understand your reasoning behind this request, but he saw the desperation behind your eyes, and he just couldn't bring himself to act against your wishes. Because no matter the professional relationship you two had, you were also friends. And he just couldn't betray a friend like that.

So he reluctantly agreed, promising you not to tell a word about this to Ayato. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't still go out and try to find a cure for you.

And here you were now, weak and sick, sitting on the bed you shared with your husband and contemplating how you got to this point in your life. But deep down, you already knew how this all came to be, and also, how this whole thing would end..

Your marriage with Ayato was by far not the happy fairytale you had always dreamed it would be. The arrangements of the marriage had been taken care of years prior, without any of you two having a say in it in the first place.

You did only get to meet Ayato a total of three times before you were married of to him. And despite all those facts, you couldn't bring yourself to mind it all that much. The Ayato you got to know over the course of those few meetings was a kind and gentle one, respectful of your wishes, although a bit too caught up in matters of work and politics.

It didn't take much for you to actually fall in love with him. A few nice words and compliments from him, a nice gesture there and you were head over heels for him. And then seeing how kindly he treated his staff and his sister only sealed the deal for you.

You couldn't wait to get married to him and recieving that same loving and respectful treatment from him as his wife, looking forward to the days that would be ahead of you, together with him by your side as your husband.

What you didn't expect however, was the complete turn he did one the marriage ceremony was dealt with.

Every time you tried to engage in conversation with him, trying to get to know your husband better, he would shut you down or just flat out ignore you. Every time you tried to touch him, even as innocent as laying a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, he would push you away from him.

You were attending social events with him, though he never held your hand and didn't bother to keep you around him. You slept in the same room together, in the same bed even, and he has never made a move on you even once this entire time.

Often times, he comes to bed long after you've already fallen asleep and is already awake again by the time you get up in the morning. At first you brushed it off as him being crowded with work, or even a bit shy about this new arrangement. However, since his behaviour towards you never changed, you couldn't help but begin to think that there was an actual intent behind it. Wether that was because he didn't like this marriage, or you specifically, you couldn't tell, because he wouldn't talk to you.

But you were certain that those events are what led you to your current situation at hand.

Hanahaki disease..

A disease stemming from unrequitted love towards another person. One that would kill the affected person if those feelings were not returned.

No one really knows how this disease came to be and there wasn't really much that could be done about it, either. Once affected with it, there were only really a few ways to handle this situation.

One. You could simply do nothing at all, but that would lead to your certain death.

Two. There were surgeries available, though these procedures are still very much experimental, and a huge side effect would be loosing any and all feelings towards the person that the affected one had feelings for in the first place.

Or three. You could tell Ayato about your predicament. But knowing him by now, he wouldn't care about it, which would only result in you nearing your end sooner.

You appreciated Thoma for going out there and trying to find some form of other cure, but you and him were both well aware that there wasn't any. He was reaching for solutions that just weren't there.

You had briefly considered the option of undergoing such an experimental surgery, but ultimately decided against it. It just didn't feel right to you, staying married to a man that you wouldn't feel anything for. No joy, happiness, sadness.. nothing. But, were you really ready to give your life for him...?

A moment later, your train of thoughts got interrupted by the opening door of your bedroom, a familiar blonde head poking through the opening. You looked at Thoma, who carefully entered the room and closed the door behind him, kneeling down in front of you.

He looked at the bloodied tissue in your hands, noticing the thornes mixed in there.

"It got worse..", were his quietly spoken words. You couldn't muster a respone, only a small, weak nod. Thoma then gently pulled the tissue from your graps, throwing it in the trash, before he returned to your side.

"I'll help you lay down. You need to rest, (Name)."

You just nodded again, not having the energy to argue with him right now. He helped you to lay down on the bed, a warm hand brushing over your forehead and almost immediately after that, you blacked out from pure exhaustion.

........

Thoma has had enough. He had no idea why you were so hellbent on not telling Ayato about your condition, but he couldn't take it anymore. Even if it meant breaking his promise to you, he could no longer just stand by and watch his friend wither away and die while he could do nothing about it.

If there was a chance that all this could be fixed, he just had to take the risk now. He's waited far too long already, the guilt eating away at him more and more with each passing day.

Quick, determined footsteps echoed from the halls as the blonde aimed for the office of the head master of the Yashiro commission, knowing that he usually locks himself in there the entire day to get his work done.

Out of pure politeness, Thoma still knocked, though he did not wait for an answer from his Lord this time around. Instead, he swiftly opened the door and entered the room, quickly closing the door behind him again as to not cause too much attention from the other staff.

Ayato, sitting at his table, hunched over many papers, did not even look up when the blonde went and stood right in front of the desk.

"Did something important come up, Thoma?", he asks, though the tone in his voice is void of any actual interest in his answer.

"Yes, my Lord. It's about (Name)."

At this, Ayato sighed heavily, dropping his pen and squinting his eyes, rubbing his temples like the topic brought him great pain.

"Look, I know what you want to say, but we've been over this. It was an arranged marriage that was mutually agreed upon by both our parents. Just because she's my wife does not mean-!"

"She's dying, Ayato!", Thoma interrupted him and that sentence quickly shut the Commissioner up. Would he not have been so shocked over the statement itself, he would have been shocked about the untypical rude behaviour displayed by Thoma right now.

"..What do you mean by that?", he asked instead after a few beats of pure silence, in which Ayato tried to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Exactly that. (Name) is dying if you don't get up and finally talk to them about everything. I know you like to tell yourself that you don't feel anything for her and that you're keeping her out of things, but you're just making it worse for her.

I.. I don't think she can make it much longer."

Ayato wanted to laugh. Surely, this was all just a cruel joke the both of you decided to play on him, maybe your newest strategie to get him to pay attention to you. But this is Thoma standing in front of him. He doesn't joke about this kind of stuff.

Realizing now how dire the situation must be, Ayato quickly got up and headed towards your shared bedroom, where Thoma told him you were resting at the moment. The sooner he got this all handled with, the better.

Soon after, he stood infront of the bedroom door, gently knocking on it. He didn't want to startle you in case you were still sleeping in there. When no response came, he gently slid the door open, only to freeze in shock because of the scene that played out in front of him.

There you were, laying on the floor, your body pale and almost lifeless, as a puddle of blood was next to your head, blood still dripping from your lips.

"(Name)!" Without even realizing what he was doing at first, Ayato rushed right over to your side, turning you to your back. When you didn't show any reaction however, he began shouting for help while tears began to form in his eyes..

This couldn't be happening..

Not like this...

He didn't even notice when Thoma and a bunch of other people, who had also heard his desperate shouting, entered the room. They were gathering around you, Thoma frantically dropping down and searching for a pulse from you.

And Ayato knew..

He knew that you were gone, even before he saw that sad look in Thoma's eyes and the slow, little, almost unnoticable shake of his head.

But... this had to have been just a dream, right? A nightmare, that he's going to wake up from soon.

Surely, this wasn't really happening... he couldn't just have lost you like this..

He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping you at a distance, keeping you out of the dangers that dealing with certain people does involve. He didn't want for you to corrupt like him, to stay your pure and unapologetically kind self.

To know now that this was the wrong decision, that he basically killed you himself...

He should have just induldged you, talked to you, treating you like he should have, like you really were his wife..

Maybe then all of this wouldn't have happened..

Maybe then, you'd still be alive right now...

But now it's too late. And all he could do right now, is to hold you in his arms, right here with Thoma, and mourn the way things went...

[girlgenius1111]

i'll never leave. never mind.

alexia putellas x reader after the loss of her brother, r tries to deal with her world collapsing. alexia is determined to help her through it, but r doesn't want to drag her girlfriend down with her. some things in life are just too hard to overcome; for r, will this be one of them? angst + fluff. mentions of suicide. basically, a long fic about grief and healing. this is so sad and so long im so sorry. fluff throughout though, because i'm me.

-------

The phone was staring at you, you were sure. Or maybe it was the missed calls from your girlfriend, the dry texts you’d sent her that gave no indication of how you were feeling. You were at the airport, flying back to Barcelona, and Alexia didn’t even know you were coming. Originally, you weren’t supposed to fly back until the weekend. You’d moved your flight up, though, beyond desperate to see Alexia. 

Your perfect girlfriend, who had been checking on you everyday. Who had offered to come to you if you needed her, no matter what it took. You’d been distant, and you knew it. From the moment you’d heard, you’d pulled away from Alexia. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, and it wasn’t what you’d wanted, but there was no choice for you. Everyone else had to come first. 

You were putting everyone else first when you played in the second leg against Chelsea, hours after finding out that your brother was dead. When you flew home right from London, but didn’t let Alexia go with you. When you’d insisted she return to Barcelona with the team, that she couldn’t come with you. When you only called her to say a brief goodnight, only returned her texts to assure her that you were, in fact, okay. 

It would have made her insecure, maybe, if she hadn’t been so sure of what you were doing. Alexia had always been your safe place. The person you were always comfortable crying in front of, the person you told your biggest fears too. Avoiding her meant avoiding feeling. 

You were the oldest, and with that came the responsibility to be strong. For your parents and your other siblings, you had to be the strong one. Alexia had heard from your sister, Bella, that you’d taken care of everything related to the funeral. You’d jumped head first into planning it, barely taking a second to greet your family before you were asking about flower arrangements and eulogies. Bella told Alexia that she hadn’t seen you shed a single tear. You were a shell of yourself, yes, but it was numbness that you radiated, not pain. Not the agony she was sure you were feeling. You had decided that you had to be strong for everyone else, and that meant not feeling any of it. That meant pushing down every emotion, no matter what it took. 

And if anyone understood that, it was Alexia. She had done the same thing when she’d lost her father; held everything together for her sister and her mother. She pretended she was fine. Alexia had held her sister as she cried, and helped her mother cook and clean and plan. She’d been the oldest, and she’d been strong too. 

Alexia had lasted a few weeks, pretending she was okay. Before every emotion she’d ignored spilled out and she broke. Completely and entirely broke. And she knew, very well, that you were headed for the same thing if you didn’t stop pushing everything down.

There wasn’t much she could do from hundreds of miles away, though, so she did her best to text and call you and remind you, every second of every day, that she loved you more than anything. And that she was only a phone call away. Even if you hadn’t been very receptive to these reminders, you’d noticed, and she knew you appreciated them.  

Now, though, sitting in the bustling airport, you were afraid to go home. Afraid to face your girlfriend, whom you’d been practically ignoring. Afraid to face the reality that was regular life without your brother. Afraid to face every dark and painful emotion you’d been ignoring. You pushed and pushed and pushed them away, until you couldn’t really even remember what it felt like to feel. You were numb. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay that way or not. 

What you did want, though, was Alexia. You wanted her to hold you, wanted to hear her heartbeat in your ear. Feel her kiss the top of your head, and scratch your back as you fell asleep. So, it was to Barcelona, to home, to Alexia, that you went, 5 full days before you were supposed to. You just needed to work up the guts to tell Alexia that you were coming home. 

------

Alexia made up her mind to fly to you half a dozen times, only to talk herself out of it. She had no idea how you were feeling, how you were doing, other than the very unsettling updates she’d gotten from your sister. She ached to hear your voice and feel your warm body pressed against hers; she was miserable. 

The team had just arrived at Johan for the midweek match when you finally did call her. Shushing everyone dramatically, Alexia rushed out of the room and answered. 

“Hi Ale.” 

“Mi amor.” She sighed, deeply relieved to hear the sound of your voice. You sounded numb and completely unlike yourself, but you were calling her all the same. 

“Hi.” You repeated, a bit weakly. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.” 

Alexia wanted to cry. Your brother's funeral had been today, and still you remembered to call her and wish her luck on a match she was a bit nervous for. “Thank you, amor. How are you? Are you sure I can’t come today after the match? You are there through this weekend, I want to be with you.” 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m at the airport right now, actually. I’ll be home tonight.” You admitted, nibbling on your lip anxiously. 

“You are coming home today? I thought you were going to stay with your family for a bit longer.” Alexia was thrilled, honestly, but still confused. 

“I was, but I changed my mind. It’s been crazy here, I just want to come home.” 

“Okay, amor. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. When do you land?”

“Right before the match ends. I’ll probably beat you home.” 

“I am excited to see you, bebe. I have missed you so much.” The captain told you gently, using the soft voice that she really only used with you. One that was dripping with love. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You whispered. “You have no idea.” 

“Soon though. Soon. I will come home straight after the game.” 

“Thank you, Alexia. For being so understanding and patient, I’m sorry I’ve been weird this week-”

“Do not apologize, please. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She paused, hearing shouts of her name coming from the other room. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon. So soon.” 

“Bye, Ale. I love you, good luck today.” 

After hanging up, Alexia knew she had to get her head in the game. There was a match to play, a team that needed her. And even if her heart was boarding a plane in England, getting ready to fly back to her, she had to focus. For the next few hours at least. 

------

Alexia was barely through the door before you were crashing into her arms, absolutely launching your body at hers. You were trembling, trying to contain the whine that came from deep in your throat at the feeling of being safe again. The blonde grabbed you fiercely, pulling you into her arms and squeezing tight. You were lifted off the ground briefly, but you barely even registered it, gripping the blonde’s sweatshirt tight in your fists and shoving your face into her shoulder. 

 Alexia had been trying not to be worried this whole time that you didn’t need her, didn’t want her. She knew, logically, why you were acting the way you had been, but she wasn’t immune to doubts and insecurity. Now, though, with you holding onto her for dear life, she knew she’d been ridiculous. 

“My girl. I’ve got you.” She whispered, feeling you nod into her chest. After a minute, Alexia eased you back and took your face in between her hands, trying to get a good look at your face. You looked like you’d lost weight, and like you hadn’t slept in days. Your eyes were cloudy, gazing up at Alexia like you barely knew she was there. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with you now that she had you back with her. You looked so unlike yourself, so out of it. Alexia didn't think she could get anymore worried, but that was before she’d seen you. 

You weren’t crying, just shaking. Just holding onto Alexia like you were afraid if you let go, she’d disappear. 

“I saw your goal.” You said after a minute. 

Alexia smiled gently at you, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “It was for you, and for Wesley.”

You flinched at your brother’s name. At the reminder of what had happened. Any minute you could go without thinking about it was a victory, but when you inevitably remembered, it felt like the weight of the world settled back on your shoulders. 

And it was this weight that prompted what you said next. 

“I think we should take a break.” You said blankly, avoiding the midfielder’s eyes at all cost. 

Alexia was stunned into silence for a minute. A different day, a different Alexia, and she would have shut down. Taken your statement as rejection, and left the apartment without another word. But everything about your body language was screaming to her that you didn't mean it. Still gripping her shirt tightly in your hands, still trembling in her arms, you seemed terrified to allow your girlfriend to help you, and terrified to allow her to go. 

“No.” Alexia said simply. 

“Ale, I can’t do this. I have to deal with this, I don’t- I can’t. Everything is so messed up now. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t put you through this, too. I can’t make you figure this out with me. We should just take a few weeks apart, so I can pull myself together, and you don’t have to worry-”

“Stop. No. You are not putting me through anything. I am committed to you, I love you, and I am not going anywhere. Especially not now. If you think I am going to let you go through this alone, you are crazy. You need me, how could I go?” 

“I… I don’t need you.” You said weakly, as if you hadn’t tackled her in a hug the moment you saw her, as if you weren’t inching closer to her every passing second, like the small amount of space in between the two of you was too much.

“You do. And I know that is scary, but I am not leaving. Let me be here. Please.” 

“I’m not… I’m not okay.” It was barely more than a mumble, but Alexia nodded sympathetically. 

“You are not okay. You don’t need to protect me from that, amor. I can be strong for the both of us. I can be whatever you need me to be.” 

A small whimper fell from your lips before you could stop it. There wasn’t any fight left in you, now, not when Alexia was saying all the right things.  “You’re sure?” 

Alexia pulled you in once more, and tucked your head under her chin. “I am sure.” 

“Okay.” You allowed, leaning back after a moment to place a very gentle kiss on your girlfriend’s cheek. 

Taking your face into her hands, Alexia frowned, her thumb tracing over the dark circles under your eyes. You looked shattered, drained completely of energy. “Amor…” 

“Can we go to sleep, Ale? I’m really tired.” 

Alexia could tell. “Of course. Did you not sleep well while you were gone?” 

“No.” You sighed, before hesitantly continuing. “I barely slept, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to now, but I always sleep better next to you, but I don’t know if you’re tired…”

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Whatever you need, amor. You have to eat something first, though.” 

You looked away from her. “I ate at the airport.” 

Alexia hummed, a sinking feeling growing in her chest. “No you didn’t. Do you want to shower while I make you something?” 

You nodded begrudgingly, and Alexia kissed you on the cheek before sending you on your way. 

Dinner was a quiet affair. You came out of the shower looking just as you had before. Numb, broken. Alexia had made your favorite for dinner, and you ate as much as you could, which really, wasn’t much at all. The blonde was just glad to get some food into you. You didn’t really remember Alexia pulling you into the bedroom, or tugging on pajamas that were definitely hers. Suddenly, you were in your bed, head resting against Alexia’s chest, her heartbeat steady in your ear. Suddenly, you were safe again. Safe to feel, safe to hurt. You’d just spent so much time not doing either of those things, that you weren’t really sure how to access the emotions you’d spent days repressing. All you knew was that you didn’t want Alexia to ever let you go. 

“Mi amor, do you want to talk?” Her chest vibrated under you as you spoke. 

“About what?”

“How you are feeling?”

“I’m… coping.” You told her weakly. Alexia’s hand found its way into your hair, carefully running through the wet strands. You sighed quietly, snuggling in closer to your girlfriend, even as you knew she was pushing you to have a conversation you didn't really want to partake in. 

“I do not think you are. I talked to your sister, she is worried about you. I am too. Please, just talk to me.” 

You turned slightly, hiding your face more in Alexia’s shirt. “I don’t know what to say, Ale. I don’t know where to start.” 

She hummed sympathetically. “Can I ask you questions? Would that be easier?” 

And you didn’t want to answer questions, but you knew it was best if you opened up to Alexia, even if it was just a little, so you nodded. 

“How was your flight?” She asked. You cracked a smile at her question, clocking that she was starting off simple to ease you into talking to her. She knew you so well, sometimes it felt like she knew you better than you knew yourself. 

“Alright. I slept for most of it, but I watched some of the match.”  

For the next few minutes, Alexia asked questions about your trip, about your sister’s new haircut that you hated. You wilted slightly when she asked about your other brother, and she picked up on that right away.

“Why did you come home so early?” She wondered. You inhaled deeply, rolling off of her and onto your back. You stared at the ceiling, knowing that the truth would make her angry. Not at you, but angry nonetheless, and you didn’t want that. 

“I missed you a lot.” You murmured, refusing to look her in the eye, even as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow facing you. 

“I missed you, too. Every second you were gone.” She promised, gently removing a stray eyelash from the side of your face and holding it out for you to blow away. It was an adorable habit she had, always insisting you make a wish. “There is more, though.”

There was no question in Alexia’s words and you sighed again, nodding slowly. “I got into an argument with Bennett. About Wes. We weren’t really speaking to each other after the funeral and it was so tense in the house, I just had to get out of there.” 

“What did you fight about?” 

A tear slid down your face as you shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, please.” 

“Okay bebé.” Alexia wiped the tear away with her thumb, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your eye, as if to soothe your tears. She pulled the covers of the bed higher, desperately trying to make you more comfortable as you suddenly looked to be in agonizing pain. “Did your parents and your sister choose sides?” 

Alexia knew your family well enough to know how an argument would go. Normally, your sister and your brother would easily agree with your parents, regardless of the topic. And your parents always took their side. Bella and Bennett were twins, the golden children, and it was clear for anyone to see that your parents treated them differently. Without Wes around to mediate, Alexia was sure that you would have been all alone in whatever you were fighting about, and she knew how much you despised conflict. 

Bottom lip wobbling pathetically, you nodded. “Yeah. They all agreed with Ben. None of them… none of them were really talking to me when I left. Bella felt bad, but my parents didn’t say goodbye when I left for the airport.” 

The midfielders stomach twisted at that, knowing how desperately you sought your parents praise and approval. For them to let you fly back across the continent without even a goodbye, after losing their son, after you lost your brother, was cruel. “I am so sorry, amor. That isn’t fair.” 

“I feel like everyone is mad at me.” You whispered, linking your fingers with Alexia’s. 

“I am not mad at you.” Alexia replied, leaning in against to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You are my favorite person in the world, and I am not mad at you. Does that feel better?” 

“Yeah.” You told her, finally shifting to look up at her face. Another few tears slipped down your face and you took a shaky breath. “I want this to all be some horrible nightmare. I want to wake up and find out he’s still here. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” 

“What do you feel?” Alexia asked again, still not letting a single tear make it off your face before she swiped it away. 

This time, you answered her. 

“Everything hurts.” 

“I know.” She whispered, doing her best to pull you closer into her body. 

“I feel like… like I'm broken. Like I'm suffocating. Like I will never feel whole again. I am empty. And I am so fucking sad but I can’t feel it. I can’t make myself feel it. It’s there, locked away, and all I can do is sit. And think. And wish I was dead instead of him.” The last sentence was barely audible, but Alexia heard it clearly. 

She shut her eyes tightly, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if that would make it better. “Please do not say that.” 

“He called me. That night, he called me and I declined the call. Because we had a match the next day. And now he's dead, and it is my fault.” You admitted, feeling simultaneously like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at your confession, but another weight added on with the knowledge that your girlfriend would not know exactly what kind of awful person you were. 

But Alexia was Alexia, and she didn’t even flinch at your words. She simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said the words you’d been aching to hear. Words you wanted to believe, words you were scared you never would. “You could not have known, that is not your fault.”

You looked up at her, trying to gauge the sincerity of what she was saying, and found only overwhelming love in her eyes. It was too much. It was love you didn’t deserve. Not when this was your fault. You had never been more convinced in your life than in that moment that you didn't’ deserve Alexia. Her love, her care, her affection, her perfection. She was wholly too good for you. “I don’t even know how you can look at me right now, Ale.”

Your girlfriend shook her head, stunned that you would think such a thing. That you would expect her to blame you for something that was not your fault. Her touch was delicate as she pushed a lock of hair away from your forehead and it was too kind. Too soft. 

You yanked yourself out of her arms, even if it felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest in doing so. With no destination in mind, you walked away from the bed and tried to leave the room, but Alexia grabbed you first. 

“My love.” She murmured, drawing you into a tight embrace. Alexia very rarely used terms of endearment for you that weren’t in spanish. She only did so when she wanted you to hear what she was saying, clearly. Her hands were insistent on your face, tilting it up so that you could only look into her warm hazel eyes. There was nothing but adoration on her face, and you were sure you didn’t deserve it.  “I can look at you because I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you. What happened is not your fault.” 

You shook your head pathetically, but your movements were stilled by Alexia’s strong hands on either side of your face. 

“It is not your fault.” She insisted. “And I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now, but I will always be kind to you. Even when you are not being kind to yourself.”

You shut your eyes tightly, desperately trying not to cry. Pitching forward, you pressed your face into Ale’s chest, unable to resist the peace and comfort that she provided. She shushed you softly, raining kisses down onto the top of your head. 

“It hurts, Ale,” you whimpered. 

Alexia held you tighter.

“I know, bebé. This is so hard, mi amor, I know that. But you will get through this. We will get through this together. I will not leave your side for a single second, do you understand? I love you. You are going to be okay.” 

Without even being aware that Alexia was moving you, you suddenly found yourself back on the bed, sitting sideways across your girlfriend’s lap. She was always so gentle. So kind. And you didn’t deserve it, you knew that. But the thought of having to go through this without her was overwhelming, devastating. You fought against the urge to cry, terrified that if you let go, she would leave. 

“I can’t do this without you,” you whimpered, holding tightly to her shirt and pressing your face into her neck. You could feel her nod from there, and you settled a bit, especially as her grip on you was tight and unrelenting. 

“You will not have to. I am here with you, mi amor. Right here with you.” She promised, shifting to wrap one arm around your midsection and cradle the back of your head with her other hand. 

“I-I… I can’t,” you stuttered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat even as it constricted tighter and tighter and you knew your efforts would be futile. 

“It is alright, bebé. You can cry. I am right here.” She affirmed again. 

A choked sob fell from your lips as you finally gave in, as the tidal wave of emotion you’d been running from finally caught up to you. It dragged you under the surface over and over, until you could hardly breathe. Until there was nothing else in the room with you but despair. 

You cried for your brother, for who he was and who he would never become. 

For yourself. Because you didn’t answer the phone, but also because you knew deep in your soul that answering would not have changed anything. 

You cried for your siblings, for your parents. Who were so destroyed that they sought out something, someone to blame. Even though they landed on you, even though you needed them. They needed you, but differently. They needed to blame you. It had to be your fault, or it might be theirs. 

You cried for Alexia, because you knew you had put her through hell the past week, and it would only continue. You cried because she was perfect and because you loved her. You cried because she loved you. 

You cried for the first time since hearing about what had happened. You cried for sweet, sweet Wes, who deserved better from everyone in his life. You included, but not only you. 

You cried because it felt like a part of you was dead, too. 

The part that was still alive, though, forced you to listen. To Alexia’s steady heartbeat, and the soft words she whispered. To her reminders to breathe, and her reminders that she loved you. If what you were feeling was a tsunami, Alexia was the high ground that would keep you safe. Keep you alive. 

You clung to that safety, that security. Without her, you might have drifted off. Not to sleep, but away. You’d never have to find out, though. Because Alexia wasn’t going anywhere. Not when you cried, not when you couldn’t breathe, not when you couldn’t speak. She’d bring you back to her every time. Because she loved you. And it didn't matter that you weren’t sure you were deserving of her love. She loved you anyway. 

Once your cries had slowed to pitiful sniffles, the midfielder laid you down carefully next to her, curling her body around yours. You were engulfed in her arms, and the soft blankets on the bed, a safe little cocoon. Alexia couldn’t tell if your eyes were half shut because they were swollen from crying, or if you were exhausted. Probably both. 

Her finger traced little shapes over your cheek as she whispered to you. “Sleep mi amor. I’ve got you. You are safe, and you are okay. Just relax.” 

Her eyes were locked on yours, encouraging you to give in and let yourself rest. Her words, too, felt like a very convincing drug, and you were letting your cheek rest against her chest before you knew it, letting the repetitive beating of her heart lull you to sleep. 

-----

You slept solidly, for the first time in a week. Straight through the night, no interruptions. Well, until morning came, and then you were awoken by quiet crunching. You stretched a bit, not yet ready to open your eyes, but aware from the amount of sun in the room that it was late morning. The crunching stopped as soon as you moved, and you quickly realized you were not curled up against your girlfriend, like you normally slept. Rolling over, you squinted your eyes open and saw Alexia looking guilty down at you, a handful of granola in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. 

“Sorry.” She whispered. 

It wasn’t really that funny, but you found yourself giggling to yourself, until Alexia started laughing with you. 

“You had to get the crunchiest thing in the kitchen?” You questioned, barely getting the words out through your laughter.. She shook her head at you, putting the bag of granola down and pulling you into her arms. 

“I was going for what would leave the most crumbs in the sheets.” She said cheerily, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“You are so dumb.” You chuckled, sighing comfortably back in her embrace. 

“I am smart.” Alexia declared, before she turned slightly serious. “You can sleep more if you need, bonita. It is 11:30, but we do not have anything we need to do today.” 

“No, it’s okay. I should get up.” 

“Thank god. I am starving and you make better breakfast than I do.” 

You fought a smile, finding the effort she was putting in to make you laugh quite endearing. “You could have woken me if you were hungry. Or gone and gotten something to eat.” Your attempt to slide out of bed was halted by Alexia’s grip tightening around you, her voice soft in your ear. 

“No, you needed to rest. And you were holding on to me in your sleep. I did not want to leave you for long.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no apologies. You need me, I am here. If you need me to lay in bed and cuddle you for half the day, I am more than happy to do that.” She said it so earnestly, you almost felt like crying. 

“Ale, you know I love you, right? More than anything?” 

She nodded, shifting you in her arms to be able to press her forehead to yours. “And I love you. More than all the stars in the sky.” 

You gave her a watery smile, gently pecking her lips with yours. “That is very corny.” 

“There are no ways to tell you how I love you without being corny. You will just have to get used to it.” Alexia whispered, connecting her lips with yours again. It was soft and loving, reflecting everything she’d just said to you. Alexia always made sure to tell you what she felt about you, as well as show you. She was perfect in that way. 

-----

Your words from the previous evening hung between you both like a dark cloud. Alexia was doing her best to treat you normally, you could tell. She didn’t want to hover, but she was filled to the brim with worry for you. So, you took the first step, and brought it up while the two of you were making breakfast.

Clearing your throat, you focused on carefully cutting up the fruit, sure that if you kept yourself slightly distracted, you wouldn’t get too upset.“Last night. What I said…” 

“What did you say?” Alexia asked casually, though you could feel her eyes burning into the back of your head from the opposite counter.  

“I said that I wished I-”

“I remember.” Alexia cut you off not unkindly, abandoning the coffee she was making in favor of walking to you and wrapping her arms around your abdomen. Her chin perched itself on your shoulder, and you leaned back into her, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

“I didn’t mean it.” You told her. Her silence told you she was skeptical, and she should have been. “Okay, I did mean it. But I would never do anything stupid, okay? I would never… do what he did. I am upset and I am hurting but I know… know that I can be okay again. I think.” 

All the tension left your girlfriend’s body, and you were only aware of how stressed she had been once she relaxed. She sagged into you, burying her face in the crook of your neck and nodding rapidly. “Good. Good. I love you. So much.” You moved to return to chopping your fruit, but the blonde took the knife from your hand and set it down, before spinning you to face her. She was completely serious as she addressed you. “If you ever felt like that,” 

“Alexia, I am not going to...” You let the sentence fade out, inhaling deeply again before you continued. “I wouldn’t do that to you, or to my family, I wouldn’t be that-” 

You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Alexia didn’t let you pull out of her grasp like you wanted to, studying your face closely. 

“You are angry with him, sí?” Alexia asked carefully. She was too perceptive for her own good sometimes. 

“Yeah.” Admitting it felt like a betrayal. 

“That is okay. You can be angry.” 

You weren’t convinced and Alexia ached to make you understand that your feelings, whatever they were, were valid. Still, she knew when to push and when not to, so she let it go. For now.

With a soft kiss on your lips, she nudged you back to the fruit, whining dramatically that she was hungry. Alexia could always make a situation light hearted again with just a few words, and that was something you realized you hadn’t appreciated enough until now. 

-----

Alexia’s brain hurt from thinking. Around and around in circles, wishing she could convince herself she was wrong about the conclusion she had come to. You were sitting in between her legs on the couch, half watching the football match on TV, half enjoying the way Alexia’s fingers played with your hair. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight you’d said you had with your brother, and what it could have been about. How bad it could have been for you to leave home early, for your parents not to be speaking to you, especially after everything that had happened. Alexia thought and thought and thought until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then she just asked. 

“Can I ask you something?” The blonde murmured, finishing the braid she was twisting your hair into, only to take it out and start again. 

Her hands playing with your hair was ridiculously soothing, and you only hummed in response.

“The fight with your brother? Was that about Wes calling you that night?” 

All the work Alexia had done to get your body to relax was undone as soon as the words left her mouth. Your shoulders scrunched back up, and you went back to picking at your cuticles. You’d already made a few nails bleed this morning, and your girlfriend sighed internally as you another one began to bleed, too. 

“Yes. I didn’t tell them right away, but my dad went through Wes’ phone and that was the last call he made.” Your voice broke, and Alexia abandoned your hair in favor of pulling you into her, your back to her front. “He asked me about it, and Ben just… freaked out.” 

“What did Bennett say?” She wondered, pulling each of your hands into hers in an effort to stop the damage you were inflicting on your nails. 

“He said I should have answered. That is wasn’t enough that I left the country for football, left Wes behind, but I ignored his call even though family is supposed to be the most important thing. And that he blames me. He said that if I had answered, Wes would be alive.” 

“What did your parents say?” 

“They agreed with Ben. Said I shouldn’t come home until I decide to start putting my family first. My dad said…” Again, you trailed off. This time, it was because you weren’t sure you had the strength to repeat what had been said to you. 

“Tell me, baby.” Alexia encouraged, hoping that if she held you tight enough, the pain would leave you alone for a while. 

“He said it was my fault his son was dead, and if there was any justice in the world it would have been me instead.” You whispered, Alexia’s sharp intake of air closely mirroring what your reaction had been. “I moved my flight after that. I still had to go to the funeral, but I wanted to leave as soon as I could.” 

It was overwhelming, everything your girlfriend was feeling, and she couldn’t even imagine the turmoil you were in at the moment. The urge to call your father and give him a piece of her mind was almost as strong as the urge to wrap you up in a blanket against her and never let anyone hurt you again. Almost. 

“Mi preciosa, he is wrong. That is not true. Your brother never would have wanted you to blame yourself. He loved you so much, and he knew you loved him too. He would be angry if he knew how everyone was treating you. Amor, you know this, right?” 

Your shrug was not good enough for Alexia.

“This was not your fault. It is not on you. You are a good person, and an incredible sister. Your parents and Bennett, they are hurting, but they should not have said the things they have said.  It hurts them that this happened out of their control, and they just want someone to blame. It is not fair that it is you, amor, but they are wrong. They are so, so wrong.” 

“I want to believe that.” You replied, hanging onto her every word even if it felt like everything she was saying was much too generous to you. “I just don’t know how to.” 

Alexia nodded, her lips finding your cheek in a gentle peck. “I will remind you every day, until you believe it. You are good, you are loved, and this was not your fault.” She repeated herself, and you shut your eyes, trying to force the reassurances to seep into your brain, and hopefully stay there. 

When you opened your eyes again, turning slightly so you could see her face, you believed her just a bit more. Bit by bit, Alexia would convince you. Just like she’d convinced you that she loved you. Like she’d convinced you to let her start putting some of her clothes in your half of the closet, and that cappuccinos were better than lattes.  She was persuasive, your Alexia. Unrelenting, determined, and persuasive. When she set her mind on something, she didn’t give up. It was this tendency of hers that had you almost convinced that you’d survive this. Even if it was the hardest thing you’d ever do, Alexia would get you through it. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” You murmured, looking up at her with something close to awe on your face. 

“You did not have to do anything. I love you. You deserve to be loved.” Alexia replied easily. She didn’t think twice before she spoke. It wouldn’t ever not surprise you how easily, how fully, Alexia loved you, and that was okay. You never wanted Alexia’s love to grow mundane, or unsurprising. You wanted the force of her love to always knock you off your feet, just a little. Because you were pretty sure the force of your love for her would always be overpowering, too. 

-------

this was so dialogue heavy and im not sure i don't think it's awful and too depressing, so thanks for sticking around to the end if you did :)

not... opposed to a part 2 honestly. i have a little part written about alexia trying to deal with r's grief, while also finding it to be such a harsh reminder of her own experience. but i'm not sure what else it would be, or if anyone would want it anyway so. give me your thoughts :)

[thedensworld]

Right Time | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst, exes au

Summary: you both were too young when you get together, right person-wrong time. Two years after break up, destiny brought you two again.

Author note: i'm sorry, you've asked for fluff but i serve you angst :(

Mingyu stood beside Seungcheol, both of them watching Jeonghan, who was all smiles an hour before his wedding vows, as he greeted the guests who had come to celebrate his special day. Mingyu sighed, thinking that the day had finally come. Jeonghan had been under immense stress these past months, preparing for his wedding. He had been going through food tastings, making decoration decisions, getting suit fittings, and juggling his very busy job to earn enough money to give his future wife her dream wedding. Mingyu was tired of being his friend and unofficial personal punching bag.

Just then, Mingyu's eyes shifted to a three-year-old girl running toward them, and his smile immediately grew wider. Seungcheol picked up his daughter, giving her all his attention while her mother, Seungcheol's wife, was busy with her bridesmaid duties as the sister of the bride.

The little girl giggled in her father's arms, her joy infectious. "Daddy, look! Flowers!" she exclaimed, pointing at the floral arrangements that adorned the venue.

Mingyu chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth wash over him. Despite the chaos and the stress, moments like these made it all worth it. He glanced at Seungcheol, who was whispering something to his daughter that made her laugh even harder. Mingyu couldn't help but feel a pang of envy mixed with happiness for his friend.

"She's a bundle of energy, isn't she?" Mingyu remarked, smiling at the scene.

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. "She definitely keeps us on our toes."

As they stood there, watching the guests mingle and Jeonghan's nervous excitement, Mingyu realized that despite all the stress and exhaustion, witnessing his friend's happiness was something truly special. Today was a day for celebration, a day to cherish, and a day that marked the beginning of a beautiful journey for Jeonghan and his future wife.

Flowers hung elegantly, their sweet fragrance blending with the smell of freshly baked goods and sumptuous food. The lively chatter of people filled the air, a symphony of joyous voices. All of these scenes were too familiar to Mingyu. He sighed, the memories flooding back, reminding him of his first meeting with you at Seungcheol's wedding.

You were Seungcheol's wife's cousin and one of the bridesmaids, while he was one of the groomsmen. Mingyu vividly remembered watching you during the wedding preparations. He saw you running around, talking, and dealing with the organizer to ensure everything ran smoothly while the bride and groom enjoyed their final moments of calm before entering a new stage of life.

Your first interaction was unforgettable. Mingyu had saved you from a potential disaster when you almost tripped over a cable and fell into the dessert section. He immediately grabbed your arm, pulling you to safety, your body colliding with his.

"You good?" Mingyu asked, noticing the color drain from your face.

A heavy breath escaped your mouth. "I almost got myself in trouble," you mumbled, trying to steady yourself while your heart still pounded rapidly.

"Thanks... Mingyu, right?"

Mingyu nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Do you need help?" he asked, noticing how rushed you were earlier.

"Oh shoot! I need to go," you exclaimed, holding a key.

'You want to leave now?' he thought.

"The second dress was left at the hotel. They have to change in an hour," you explained after Mingyu inquired about your urgency.

Mingyu's eyes widened as panic surged through him. "Let me drive you there," he offered. You nodded, handing him the key, and the two of you sprinted to the car.

Just as you were about to leave, you received a call. It turned out your mother had already brought the dress, and it was in her car. The rush of adrenaline subsided, and both of you couldn't help but laugh at the chaos.

"Guess we didn't need to be superheroes today," Mingyu joked, relieved.

"Yeah, but thank you," you said, a warm smile spreading across your face. "I really appreciate your help."

After that day, the two of you kept in touch. Mingyu eventually confessed that he had a crush on you and asked you out on a date, which you gladly accepted. Months later, you were officially dating. Seungcheol and his wife were thrilled, knowing they had played a part in bringing you together. However, they were equally flustered when, three years later, Seungcheol was informed that you and Mingyu had broken up.

Three years of dating, and it's now been two years since you separated. Despite the passage of time, not a single minute went by without Mingyu thinking of you.

As he stood there, watching Jeonghan’s wedding preparations, the memories of your relationship played in his mind like a film. He remembered the laughter, the shared dreams, and even the arguments that made the bond stronger. You were his best friend, his confidant, and losing you felt like losing a part of himself.

Mingyu sighed, the weight of nostalgia heavy on his heart. The sight of the beautifully decorated venue, the smell of flowers, and the sound of joyous chatter brought everything back in vivid detail. He couldn't help but wonder what you were doing now, if you were happy, and if you ever thought about him too.

He glanced at Seungcheol, who was busy with his daughter, and thought about the twists and turns life takes. Love is unpredictable, he mused. One moment you're on top of the world, and the next, you're struggling to find your footing.

Despite the bittersweet memories, Mingyu felt a glimmer of hope. Today was a day of celebration, a reminder that love, in all its forms, is worth cherishing. As Jeonghan prepared to embark on his own journey of love, Mingyu silently wished for a future where he might find happiness again, perhaps even with you.

*

As Mingyu stood lost in his thoughts, he suddenly caught sight of you entering the venue. His heart skipped a beat, and he blinked several times, thinking he might be daydreaming. But you were really there, looking breathtaking in a beautiful dress that perfectly complemented your skin tone. Your hair was longer than he remembered, cascading gracefully down your back, and the sight of you took his breath away.

For a moment, everything else faded into the background. The smell of flowers, the chatter of the guests, the sight of Jeonghan greeting everyone—all of it became a blur as Mingyu's focus zeroed in on you. His heart pounded in his chest, beating the same way it did the first time he saw you.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. Every step you took seemed to bring back a flood of memories: your first date, the countless laughs, the shared moments of vulnerability, and even the quiet, content times you spent together doing nothing at all. Mingyu's pulse quickened as he watched you smile and greet the other guests, looking as radiant as ever.

Suddenly, Seungcheol noticed the shift in Mingyu’s demeanor. Following his friend's gaze, Seungcheol’s eyes landed on you, and he gave Mingyu a knowing smile. "Go talk to her," Seungcheol encouraged softly, nudging him forward.

Mingyu hesitated for a second, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling inside him. Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way through the crowd toward you. Each step felt like an eternity, but eventually, he stood before you.

You looked up, and your eyes met his. For a brief moment, everything else disappeared, and it was just the two of you. The surprise in your eyes mirrored his own, and a small, nostalgic smile played on your lips.

"Hi," Mingyu said, his voice barely above a whisper, his emotions threatening to spill over.

"Hi," you replied, your voice soft yet filled with a warmth that made his heart ache.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the sight of each other after so long. Then, Mingyu found his voice again. "You look... amazing. More beautiful than ever."

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Thank you, Mingyu. It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has," he said, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Mingyu opened his mouth to say more, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. His nervousness intensified, making him momentarily forget how to speak. You offered him a gentle, understanding smile, perhaps sensing his hesitation.

"I should go greet the bride," you said softly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll catch up later, okay?"

Mingyu nodded, unable to trust his voice, and watched as you gracefully walked away toward the bride. His heart sank a little, disappointment mixing with his nerves. He had so much he wanted to say, but the opportunity had slipped through his fingers.

Seungcheol, who had been observing the interaction from a distance, walked up to Mingyu with a knowing look. "You alright, buddy?" he asked, clapping a hand on Mingyu's shoulder.

Mingyu let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I froze, Seungcheol. I couldn’t say anything meaningful."

Seungcheol chuckled softly. "It's understandable. It's been a long time, and seeing her again can stir up a lot of emotions."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes still following you as you chatted with the bride and other bridesmaids. "I just... I didn't expect to feel this way. It's like no time has passed at all, and I still... I still care about her so much."

Seungcheol gave him a sympathetic smile. "Feelings like that don’t just disappear. But hey, you have the whole day ahead. There will be plenty of opportunities to talk to her. Maybe start with something simple, like asking her to dance."

Mingyu glanced at Seungcheol, a hint of hope in his eyes. "You think so?"

Seungcheol nodded confidently. "Absolutely. Just be yourself, Mingyu. You two had something special, and who knows? Maybe today is a chance to rekindle that."

Taking a deep breath, Mingyu tried to calm his racing heart. "Thanks, Seungcheol. I’ll give it a shot."

As the ceremony drew closer, Mingyu resolved to find the right moment to talk to you again. He couldn't let fear hold him back. Today was about new beginnings, and perhaps, it could be the start of something beautiful for both of you.

*

After the wedding vows, it was time for the group photos. Mingyu positioned himself not too far from the newlyweds, while you stood directly in front of him. The familiar scent of your perfume and your hair, the same fragrance you always wore when you were together, wafted toward him, triggering a flood of memories.

As the photographer arranged everyone into position, you brushed your hair back, and that's when Mingyu noticed it—a ring wrapped around your left finger. His heart sank, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. You’re engaged? he wondered, his mind racing.

A mix of shock, sadness, and confusion gripped him. Part of him had held onto the hope that, despite the time and distance, there might still be a chance for the two of you to rekindle what you once had. But now, seeing that ring, reality hit him hard.

He tried to keep his composure, but his mind was in turmoil. He remembered all the moments you shared, the dreams you talked about, the future you once envisioned together. The thought of you being engaged to someone else was like a punch to the gut.

Mingyu forced a smile for the camera, but inside, he felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. He glanced at you, wondering if you were truly happy and if the person who had given you that ring knew just how special you were. Did they know your little quirks, your favorite things, and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved?

The photographer called for everyone to get closer, and Mingyu found himself standing right behind you. The scent of your perfume was almost overwhelming now, and he struggled to focus on anything else. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

As the flash went off, Mingyu realized he had to accept the situation. He had no right to feel jealous or upset. You had moved on, found happiness with someone else, and that was something he needed to respect. But the realization didn't make the pain any less.

After the photos were taken, Mingyu stepped aside, feeling a profound sense of loss. He had to come to terms with the fact that you were no longer his and that your paths had diverged. But as he watched you laugh and talk with the other guests, he couldn't help but hope that whoever had given you that ring cherished you as much as he did.

As Mingyu stepped aside after the photos, a deep sense of regret washed over him, intensifying with each passing moment. The sight of the ring on your finger brought back the memory of the night you asked to separate. He had replayed that scene countless times in his mind, wishing he had done things differently.

He remembered how you had looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "Mingyu, I think we need to take a break," you had said, your voice trembling slightly. At the time, he had been too caught up in his own confusion and frustration to truly understand the depth of your feelings.

Instead of staying and talking things through, he had walked away, convinced that space would be the best solution. He thought that maybe, with time, things would work themselves out. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, the distance between you only grew, and before he knew it, you were gone from his life.

Now, standing at Jeonghan's wedding, the weight of his decision felt heavier than ever. He regretted leaving that night, regretted not fighting harder for what you had. He should have listened, should have stayed to understand the fears and doubts you were experiencing. Instead, he had let his pride and stubbornness drive a wedge between you.

Mingyu's eyes followed you as you mingled with the other guests, your laughter ringing out, a bittersweet sound to his ears. You seemed happy, and that was what he wanted for you, even if it wasn't with him. But the regret gnawed at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

As the evening progressed, Mingyu found himself lost in thought, barely aware of the festivities around him. Seungcheol, noticing his friend's distant expression, approached him once more.

"You okay?" Seungcheol asked gently, his concern evident.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I keep thinking about the night we broke up. I should have stayed, Seungcheol. I should have fought for her."

Seungcheol nodded, understanding the pain in Mingyu's voice. "We all make mistakes, Mingyu. What's important is what you do now. Maybe it's time to let go of the past and focus on the present. Who knows? Maybe there's still a chance for you to find closure, if not with her, then within yourself."

Mingyu pondered Seungcheol's words, knowing there was truth in them. He couldn't change the past, but he could learn from it. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to move forward.

As the night went on, Mingyu made a silent promise to himself. He would try to find peace with his regrets and open his heart to whatever the future might hold. And as he watched you, now engaged and seemingly content, he wished you nothing but happiness, even if it meant letting go of the dreams he once had for the two of you.

*

The little things had snowballed into something that finally hit you that night. You were exhausted from work, your phone buzzing incessantly with texts from Mingyu. Just as you managed to lay yourself on the couch, the door suddenly burst open, revealing Mingyu looking restless and breathless.

"Where have you been?! I've been trying to reach you all day," he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and worry.

You sighed deeply, turning your back to him, too drained to respond. Mingyu let out a humorless chuckle, stepping closer. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, not realizing his strength might hurt you, and shoved his phone in your face, displaying your unread chat messages from the past week.

"You haven't read my texts for almost a week, Y/N. Don't you know I'm worried?!"

You felt the sting of his grip, but more than that, the sting of the situation settled heavily in your chest. You placed your hand on the sore spot, rising from the couch with what little energy you had left, trying to walk away to the bedroom without a word.

"Now you think I'm invisible? What the fuck, Y/N?" Mingyu's voice rose, a mix of anger and hurt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a combination of physical pain, exhaustion, and emotional turmoil. You turned to face Mingyu, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just so tired, Mingyu. Tired of everything."

He stood there, watching you closely, his initial anger fading as he saw the tears streaming down your face. "Why didn't you just tell me?" His tone softened now, filled with concern.

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of everything. "I didn't want to burden you. You've got your own things to deal with."

Mingyu's expression softened further, but a flicker of hurt crossed his features. "We're supposed to share the burdens, remember? That's what being together means."

You looked into his eyes, searching for the reassurance you desperately needed. "I know," you admitted softly, "but it feels like we've been drifting apart. And tonight, I just... I couldn't handle it."

Mingyu's concern turned into frustration, his voice rising slightly. "So you decided to handle it all on your own? Do you know how that makes me feel, Y/N?"

You flinched at the edge in his voice, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "Mingyu, I didn't mean..."

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "You didn't mean to shut me out when I've been trying so hard to be there for you?"

You bit your lip, tears now flowing freely. "I... I didn't know how to ask for help. I thought I could handle it."

"And now look where we are," Mingyu said bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "You're drowning in silence, and I'm left feeling useless."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't realize..."

Mingyu closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them again, his gaze softened, but the hurt was still evident. "I love you, Y/N," he said quietly. "But I can't keep fighting for a place in your life if you won't let me in."

You reached out to him, wanting to bridge the distance between you. "Mingyu, please..."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "I need time to figure things out, Y/N. I can't do this if you're pushing me away."

You felt a hollow ache in your chest as Mingyu's words hung in the air. The idea of losing him was unbearable, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were dragging him down, that you were undeserving of his love and patience. Summoning what little strength you had left, you took a shaky breath and spoke the words that felt like shards of glass in your throat.

"Mingyu," you began, your voice trembling, "maybe it's best if we... if we take a break."

His eyes widened in shock, the hurt in them deepening. "What? No, Y/N, that's not what I want."

You shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. "I can't keep hurting you like this. You deserve someone who can let you in, someone who can be there for you the way you are for me. And right now, I just... I can't."

"I need to figure things out on my own. I need to learn how to be okay with myself before I can be with you."

He looked at you for a long moment, searching for any sign that you might change your mind. When he found none, he nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "If that's what you really want..."

"It's not what I want," you said, your voice barely audible. "But it's what I think is best for both of us."

With one last, lingering look, Mingyu turned and walked away, each step feeling like a knife to your heart. You watched him go, knowing that you were making the hardest decision of your life, hoping that someday, you could find your way back to each other.

As the door closed behind him, you sank to the floor, overcome with grief and loneliness. The silence of the room was deafening, but you knew that this was the first step towards healing, for both you and Mingyu.

As the door clicked shut behind Mingyu, a wave of emptiness washed over you, mingled with an unsettling sense of disappointment. You had expected him to protest more, to fight harder to stay. Instead, he had walked away, leaving you to grapple with the decision alone.

You sat there, staring at the door, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlpool. The weight of his absence pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. Was this really what you wanted? Or had you hoped, deep down, that he would refuse to leave, that he would insist on staying and helping you through this?

The room felt colder, the silence oppressive. Your mind replayed the conversation, analyzing every word, every gesture. Had he given up too easily? Or was it your fault for pushing him away in the first place?

As you sat there, the silence of the room pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. The ache in your chest grew with each passing second. Your thoughts spiraled deeper into despair, and a new, more insidious fear began to take root.

Maybe Mingyu had had enough of you. Maybe he was already tired of dealing with your endless complications and emotional turmoil. Maybe he, like everyone else, had decided you weren't worth the fight.

Your mind flashed back to countless moments in your past, memories you had tried so hard to bury. You remembered the times when your emotions had been dismissed, your thoughts invalidated. When you had tried to reach out, only to be met with indifference or impatience.

Your parents, who had always told you to toughen up, to stop being so sensitive. Friends who had drifted away because your struggles were too much for them to handle. Teachers who had dismissed your anxiety as laziness, your depression as a phase. You had learned, painfully and slowly, that you had to figure things out on your own because no one else would.

And now Mingyu had done the same. The last person you had hoped would stick by you had walked away. You had pushed him, yes, but you had also hoped, deep down, that he would push back. That he would prove he was different. But he hadn't.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you let them fall, each one a testament to the weight of your pain. It felt like you were falling into an abyss, a dark void where every painful memory and fear resurfaced.

You recalled a particularly vivid memory from your childhood. You were eight years old, sitting on the steps of your house, crying because the neighborhood kids had teased you for being different. Your mother had found you there, her expression a mixture of exasperation and disappointment.

"Why are you crying again?" she had asked, her tone sharp. "You need to learn to handle things on your own. The world isn't going to coddle you."

That had been the first of many lessons in self-reliance, each one more painful than the last. You had learned to hide your pain, to smile when you were breaking inside, to carry burdens that felt too heavy to bear.

And now, sitting alone in the silence of your apartment, you realized that those lessons had led you to this moment. You had pushed Mingyu away, convinced that you had to handle everything on your own, that you were too much for anyone else to handle. And he had walked away, just like everyone else.

The weight of your loneliness was crushing. You curled up on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, and let the sobs wrack your body. It felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces, each one sharper than the last.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts and memories. Eventually, the tears slowed, and a cold numbness settled in. You knew you had to pick yourself up, to move forward somehow. But the path ahead felt more daunting than ever.

Maybe you were destined to be alone, to carry your burdens without help. Maybe you were too complicated, too difficult for anyone to truly love. And maybe, just maybe, the one person you had thought would fight for you had finally realized it too.

With a heavy heart, you forced yourself to stand, wiping away the remnants of your tears. You knew you had to find a way to heal, to navigate this pain. But for now, all you could do was take one small step at a time, hoping that someday, you might find the strength to believe in love again.

*

Seungcheol entered the car as soon as his daughter was settled in the backseat. He threw one last glance through the rearview mirror and smiled at the sight of her slumbering after spending all of her energy today. Her peaceful face was a welcome relief from the emotional turmoil of the evening.

"Are we gonna let him be like that?" Nari's voice broke the silence, and Seungcheol could sense she was referring to Mingyu.

He turned on the engine and hummed thoughtfully, "It's the best for him right now."

Nari stared at Seungcheol with a worried look, her concern evident. "But Y/N is not engaged. It's just a ring," she said, finally voicing the worry she'd been holding since the venue at Jeonghan's wedding.

"That's exactly why this is best for him," Seungcheol replied. "He couldn't even confront her and ask about the ring. He just stood there, trapped in his own thoughts, just like what happened two years ago."

Images of you and Mingyu after the breakup flashed through his mind. Mingyu, lost in his own assumptions, believing you didn't want him anymore. You, burdened by your unfinished past and struggling to heal.

"Y/N is different now, though," Nari insisted softly. "She's healed. Maybe there's a chance for them."

Seungcheol glanced at his wife and chuckled softly. "And what about Mingyu? Boys never learn, babe. It takes a man to confront a woman."

Nari sighed deeply, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and sadness. "I just thought they were 'the right people at the wrong time.'"

Seungcheol grabbed his wife's hand and pecked it gently. "There is no 'right time,' babe. People make the time right. Mingyu couldn't do that. He might look perfect on the outside, but he's still a human with his own flaws."

Nari looked out the window, her thoughts seemingly far away. "Do you think they'll ever get another chance?"

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, considering her question. "Maybe. Life has a way of bringing people back together when the time is right. But for now, they need to work on themselves. Y/N has come a long way, and Mingyu needs to catch up."

"But," Seungcheol continued, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and realism, "if they are truly meant to be, they'll find their way back to each other. And if not, they'll still be stronger and better for having known each other."

Nari squeezed his hand gently, her eyes softening. "I hope so. They both deserve happiness."

Seungcheol smiled at her, appreciating her empathy. "They do. And they'll find it, one way or another. We just have to give them time and trust that they'll make the right choices."

As they drove away from the venue, the city lights gradually fading into the distance, Seungcheol felt a sense of peace settle over him. He hoped that Mingyu and you would find the courage to face your fears and the strength to build the lives you deserved. For now, all he could do was support his friend and trust that everything would unfold as it should.

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

[ccraccz]

Hello! I'm a new follower of yours~ I may not know how much are you in the manga, so this might be a lil spoiler for you (sorry). Suo actually knows the language of flowers! Maybe this could be a req of him courting fem!reader owo

Have a nice day!

SO CUTTEE!! THANK YOU FOR BOTH THE FOLLOW AND THE REQUEST!!

Flowers for you

Suo x Fem!Reader

TW: assault, reader being used as a hostage, implied bullying? (PLease tell me if I missed a TW!!)

The first time it happens is on a random Monday. A bouquet of different colored camelias being given to you by Suo, a sly smile and unearthly attractive smile on his face as he hands them over. His uncovered eye squinting as he watches you blush at the situation.

"For you, my lady," he says, confirming the main question that was swimming in your brain.

"But... Why?" You ask, genuinely wondering about the reason of the sudden gift. Suo chuckles as you grab the flowers in your hands and hold them closer. "Well..." He starts, turning to walk beside you, hands behind his back as usual, he looks at forward, ignoring your eyes that were intensely looking at him. "They reminded me of you, and there was a special on them, so I decided to try and make your day start in a good way."

That was a lie. Well, part of it was a lie. The beautiful, multicolored camelias did remind him of you, but the bouquet was going to be a lot more expensive if he wasn't recognized by the flower shop owner for saving his daughter from some perverted gang members. Not only was the bouquet free as a payback for saving his daughter, but as a thanks for helping around the town.

"Well then..." You pout, looking away as you arrive at the bridge that connects you to the gates of your school. You genuinely didn't want to leave him there, but you had cleaning duty to go to and if you're one minute late, your class would chew you up, especially now that you had a bouquet of flowers in your hands.

That day you started your day with a smile, and ended it with that same smile.

Suo was right, these flowers did make your day start, and stay, a good way.

The second time was the day after he, and his group, fought a group of drunken, old, perverts decided to take you and your girlfriends from your class as hostages. The glare that Suo sported that day before he quickly beat up the guys that were between him and the guy holding you was still burned into the front of your memories.

His eye seemed to glow under the street lights of the town, movements swifter than a cat but stronger than a bear. The drunken man holding you faltered at the sight of his men being beaten down, quickly seeing the disadvantage he's at. Due to that, he quickly pushes you away, having you land harshly on the ground and enraging Suo further.

After the fight, Suo was silent, too silent for your comfort as he walked you home. His arms weren't behind him, now one was wrapped around your waist and the other in his pocket.

The day after, there were flowers on your door step. Another bouquet and a plush of a fluffy puppy holding it.

The flowers were in a beautiful arrangement of white gardenias, daffodils, primrose primulas, and white heather flowers, a red ribbon tied around the bottom of the stems to keep them together. Under the plush, there is a note from Suo.

His hand writing is gorgeous, letters smooth and readable, sentences arranged in such grace it was shocking to think that this was written by a teenager in a delinquent school.

The letter said: Dear [Name],

I hope this letter finds you well and recovered from what happened yesterday night. I can only imagine how hollow you might feel...

And the rest was history, as tears bubbled up in your eyes and dribbled down your cheeks, the flowers tight in your embrace as your tears soaked into the paper and the top of the plush.

The third and last time was at the end of the day, two months after the incident, and a week before your birthday. You had been talking to some girls, who were gushing and blushing about their crushes while you stayed quiet. Walking out of the school and over the bridge, you see him.

Suo was standing at the other end of the bridge, another bouquet in his hand, a small gift box in his other hand. You paused as the girls beside you start fawning over Suo, talking about how attractive he is, and wondering who those flowers were for, and what about that box?

You were internally sweating, starting to walk behind the girls again, who were giggling and bumping into each other before you.

"So?" One of the prettier girls walks forward, having the guts to confront the delinquent. "Is that for me?" she asks, bottom lip bitten seductively.

Suo smiles at her, "Definitely..." He pauses and looks around the group. "Not," his smile drops before he walks forward and breaks apart the group, until he was in front of you.

"[Name]?" Suo smiles, eye closing with a light blush on his face.

He looked ethereal, better than any mythical, historical, or fictional character you've ever seen in your life. The sun was the perfect shade, hitting his face in every attractive way it could.

"I'm here to give you these," He speaks, his voice soft and nearly musical. He holds out the flowers towards you to take as your cheeks flush a beautiful pink as the situation registers in your mind.

"For me?" You whisper in shock.

"Yes," He nods "for you gorgeous."

In her hands was a large bouquet, filled with white gardenias, red roses, white camelias, baby's breath, and a multitude of gloxinias. "Those white gardenias represent your purity and how lovely you are, the roses represent my love for you, the white camelias describe how adorable and perfect you are, the baby's breath are a symbol of-"

You cut him off, putting the flowers into one arm as you grab him by the cheek and slot your lips onto his.

The show of affection makes the girls around swear and leave, while, somewhere in the bushes, there is a sensor going off, smoking even.

That wasn't the last time he brought you flowers, and it definitely was not the last time he described them, since every time he did, it would lead to something more.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝟮𝟭

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N plans a special 21st birthday dinner, but her friends don't show up, leaving her heartbroken. But Matt, while dining nearby, notices her and decides that making her company would be a good idea.

WARNING: None. (Strangers to lovers trope)

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I suck at writing "date" scenes, so I'm so sorry if this is rushed or bad ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The flickering candlelight on the restaurant table cast a soft, warm glow over the elegantly set table where Y/N sat, looking radiant in her pink, floral dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her hair was styled in a glamorous way, and her makeup was done just right, accentuating her sparkling eyes and the excited smile playing on her lips. It had been years since she had celebrated her birthday properly, years since she had allowed herself to hope for a special day dedicated just to her. Today was different. Today, she was reclaiming her birthday.

The restaurant was a stunning venue, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting a beautiful glow over the plush, velvet chairs, and mahogany tables. A grand piano sat in one corner, the pianist playing a soft, soothing melody that added to the sophisticated ambiance. Y/N had chosen this place specifically because it felt special. It felt like a place where beautiful memories could be made; and that's all she wanted, to be remembered.

On the table before her sat a gorgeous pink cake, adorned with delicate sugar flowers and a scattering of edible glitter that caught the light with every little flicker of the candles. Beside it, she had arranged goody bags filled with small, thoughtful gifts for each of her friends. She had taken great care in selecting each item, wanting her friends to feel appreciated and cherished, even on her special day. Her heart swelled with anticipation as she imagined their reactions.

The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. She glanced towards the entrance every few seconds, her eyes lighting up every time the door opened, only to dim when she realized it wasn’t her friends. She felt her heart race every time someone walked by her table, only to look up and see only a stranger.

"Would you like to order something while you wait?" The waitress approached her table with a gentle smile, her eyes kind but laced with concern, her hands holding the tablet that lights up her face full of empathy. This was her fifth time there.

Y/N smiled and shook her head. Again.

"I’ll wait a little longer. They’ll be here soon, I’m sure of it."

The waitress nodded and retreated, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts. She tried to stay positive, reminding herself that her friends might just be running late. LA was a busy city, after all, and traffic could be unpredictable. She busied herself by rearranging the goody bags and checking her phone for any messages or missed calls, but there were none.

Hours passed, and the restaurant began to fill up with other patrons, groups of friends and families laughing and chatting happily. Y/N’s smile began to waver, but she forced herself to keep it in place. She refused to let doubt creep in, to let herself believe that her friends wouldn’t come. They cared about her, didn’t they? They wouldn't just leave her alone... Right?

"Are you sure you don’t want to order something? Maybe just a drink?" The waitress returned, her expression a little more sympathetic this time, her eyes traveling from the cake to Y/N.

Y/N hesitated, her heart sinking a little.

"I’ll wait just a little longer." Shs replied, her voice barely above a whisper and full of guilty. She knew that she couldn't sit at one of the large tables for hours without consuming any food.

The soft melody of the piano continued to fill the elegant restaurant, creating an ambiance of tranquility that contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside Y/N. She kept glancing at the door, her hope dwindling with each passing minute.

As the reality set in, Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes beginning to sting with unshed tears. Her friends weren’t coming. She was alone on her birthday, surrounded by strangers who seemed to be enjoying their own special moments. The weight of past traumas mingled with the fresh sting of rejection, making it harder to hold back her emotions. Her eyes scanned the room, feeling as though everyone was watching her, judging her for being so naive to think her friends cared.

At a table nearby, three brothers were enjoying their dinner, laughing and chatting animatedly.

Matt, the most perceptive of the triplets, caught sight of Y/N just as she wiped a tear from her cheek. It didn't go unnoticed by him since he arrived at the place, the loneliness of the pretty girl surrounded by a cake of flowers and small goodies. But now, her distress was palpable, her attempt to mask it with a forced smile only amplifying her pain. His heart clenched at the sight. His teeth captured his bottom lip in a gesture of nervousness and doubt before a sigh escaped through his nose.

Ignoring the conversation between his brothers, Nick and Chris, Matt focused entirely on Y/N. Despite her apparent beauty that caused small goosebumps to run down his arms every time his blue eyes found her figure, there was something more.

It was clear to Matt that she had envisioned this evening with a lot of love and anticipation, only to have her hopes dashed by the absence of people she, apparently, cared for. He noticed the way she tried to keep a brave face, smiling at the concerned waitress and politely declining to order.

Without a word, he stood up, causing his brothers to pause mid-sentence and watch him with confusion.

"Matt, where the hell are you going?" Chris called after him, but Matt didn’t respond, turning his back to his table and starting his steps.

He moved towards Y/N’s table with purpose, his eyes softening with empathy. As he approached, Y/N, lost in her sorrow, didn’t notice him until he gently pulled out the chair beside her. The sudden presence startled her, and she looked up with wide, tear-filled eyes widening at the sight of the prettiest boy she - probably - had ever seen.

"This seat isn't taken, is it?" He asked with the beginning of a smile on the corner of his lips, watching her closely.

"Oh, uhm..." Y/N looked around the completely empty table, frowning at the obvious answer to the meaningless question, before turning her eyes back to the boy. "No?"

"Right. I’m sorry to intrude." Matt said softly, his voice kind and soothing, settling down on the upholstered chair and resting his elbows on the pure wooden surface, his flaming blue eyes running over Y/N's features. "But I couldn’t help noticing that you seem upset. Are you alright?"

Y/N blinked in surprise, her initial instinct to brush him off, faltering under his genuine concern. She looked around again, still feeling the weight of judgmental eyes, but Matt’s calm, comforting presence made her feel a little less exposed.

The girl raised her hands, her fingers decorated with bright red nails and slightly trembling passed delicately over her cheeks and under her eyes, mentally begging that her makeup hadn't melted from the trapped tears.

"I-" She began, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, shaking her head while lowering her arms, trying to steady herself. "I’m okay. It’s just… I was supposed to celebrate my birthday with friends, but… they didn’t show up." She laughed wryly at her own misfortune, lowering her eyes in shame.

Matt’s heart ached at her words. He could see the effort she had put into the evening, the beautiful cake, the goody bags. She had planned this with so much love and hope, only to be let down.

"I’m really sorry to hear that." He said sincerely, ignoring the firmness of his brothers' eyes on his back, probably confused. "It’s awful to be let down by the people you care about."

Y/N nodded, her tears threatening to spill over again, causing her to blink repeatedly in an attempt to expel them. She imitated his position, resting her elbows on the table and closing her hands in a sign of prayer, laying her left cheek above it, breathing deeply.

Her eyes found Matt again, taking in his warm, friendly eyes and genuine concern. It felt strange to open up to a stranger, but something about him made her feel safe.

"Thank you." She whispered, smiling brokenly. "It’s just… I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years. I thought this year would be different."

"Well, it still can be. How about I keep you company for a while? No one should be alone on their birthday." Matt smiled gently, observing her reactions closely.

Y/N hesitated, her eyes flicking towards Matt’s table where his - obviously - brothers were watching curiously, eating slowly while Matt's plate kept untouched. The idea of taking up his evening felt daunting, but the warmth in the pretty boy's eyes and his sincere offer made her feel a spark of hope.

"I don’t want to impose." She cleaned her throat, returning her eyes to him, laughing shyly, her voice soft.

"You wouldn’t be imposing at all." Matt assured her, shrugging slightly. "They can be alone for tonight, you know? I’d be honored to spend some time with you. Besides, it’s your birthday. You deserve some attention."

His words brought a small, genuine smile to Y/N’s face for the first time that evening. She felt a little of the heaviness lift from her heart, her cheeks heating up and her body feeling cozy and hugged.

"I don't even know you, I can't-"

"I'm Matt. Pleased to make your acquaintance." The brunette extended his right arm, his hand open and tilted to the side as a sign of greeting, a sarcastic look adorning his expression.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his open hand to his face and back again, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips slightly parted in surprise. He was stubborn.

A long, amused sigh escaped her red painted lips, giving up, extending her right hand, meeting his halfway, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Pleased to meet you, kind sir. I am Y/N." She responded in an exaggeratedly polite tone, raising her nose in the air and closing her eyes in an attempt to look snobbish.

"Excuse me. Miss, would you like me to box the cake?" The waitress's voice echoed again gently, interrupting their moment. The woman stood a few feet away, her eyes traveling curiously between Y/N and Matt.

The two exchanged a quick glance before the girl looked up at the woman who had watched over her throughout the night, a light smile decorating her features.

"No, thank you. We'll eat it later." She replied, her heart warming at her own words as her eyes dropped to the beautifully decorated cake, knowing she wouldn't have to eat it alone. Not anymore.

"Actually, do you like pasta with shrimp sauce? They have the best one here." Matt's voice sounded before the waitress could leave again, his eyes meeting Y/N's, a gleam of excitement passing through the blue orbs.

"Oh, Matt, you don't have to, your plate is-" Y/N shook her head, pointing with her left hand at the table the boy sat at minutes before, ready to deny the suggestion before being interrupted.

"We'd like two pasta with shrimp sauce and your best wine, please." Matt ordered, a proud smile decorating his features, and his head tilted slightly upward so that his eyes could watch the waitress, who selected the opted meals on her tablet.

"Of course, I'll be back soon with your meals. Enjoy your date."

"Oh, it's not-" Y/N started, eyes widening slightly, interrupting her own sentence when she saw the waitress already walking away. Her eyes met Matt's for a few seconds before laughter escaped her lips, followed by the boy's.

Matt sighed, leaning in slightly, resting his armas above the wooden surface and tilting his face towards her, his big flaming blue orbs observing her as if she were a piece of the rarest jewel, focus entirely on her figure.

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. What do you enjoy doing?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then started talking.

They talked throug long hours, she told him about her hobbies, her favorite books and movies, the things that made her happiest. Matt listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers, his genuine interest making her feel valued and heard, his eyes lighting up with every word she spoke.

His questions were thoughtful, his comments encouraging, and slowly, Y/N felt herself relaxing, the earlier pain easing away.

In return, Matt shared stories about his own life, his career with his brothers, the things he was passionate about, the moments he went through after leaving Boston.

They laughed together, the conversation flowing naturally as if they had known each other for years.

As the evening wore on, Y/N realized that she was actually enjoying herself. The initial embarrassment and pain were replaced by a warm, comfortable feeling. She felt a connection with Matt that she hadn’t felt with anyone in a very long time, and surprisingly, she didn't feel scared.

When their plates were finally cleared away and their bellies full, Matt turned his attention to the beautiful pink cake sitting untouched on the table.

"That cake looks incredible." He commented briefly, his tone sounding like that of disinterest, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "It would be a shame not to light the candles and make a wish."

Y/N bit her lip, looking at the cake with a mix of longing and hesitation.

"I… I don’t really want to make a big deal out of it." She admitted. "I don’t want to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ or anything."

Matt nodded understandingly, looking at her attentive.

"That’s completely fine." He assured, smiling openly. "We don’t have to sing or to draw attention at all. But you should still make a wish and blow out the candles. It’s your birthday, and you deserve it."

After a moment’s hesitation, her eyes traveling to the pink cake to Matt and back again, Y/N nodded, her pearly teeth trapping her bottom lip in a light grip.

Matt called the waitress again, discreetly pointing to the cake, receiving an understanding nod from afar.

It wasn't long before a black lighter was in his hands and the cake right in front of them. He carefully lit the lighter, approaching the small and orange flame to the 21-shaped candles, the pink color accompanied by small diamonds shining below the warm light.

Matt placed the already turned off lighter on the table again, turning his attention back to the girl next to him, his eyes brimming with admiration.

"Happy birthday, Y/N." Matt murmured softly, shifting in his cushioned chair to be closer to her. Her delicate perfume wafted to him like a gentle breeze, filling his senses. "I hope all your wishes come true."

Y/N felt a warm sensation spread through her chest at his tender words. Her eyes locked onto his for long, lingering moments, like two planets colliding in a beautiful explosion, before she turned her gaze back to the cake. She closed her eyes slightly, summoning a wish from the deepest part of her heart. With a gentle breath, she blew out the candles, the small flames flickering and extinguishing with a soft puff.

Matt clapped softly, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes widening like the one of a child in front of their favorite candy.

"Well done!" He celebrated, his brunette hair falling slightly into his eyes as he beamed at her. "Now, let me cut this beautiful cake for a pretty girl."

By the end of the night, Y/N left the restaurant with a magical smile lighting up her face, feeling as though she were floating with each step she took on the night streets of LA. Matt, meanwhile, left with his ears full of playful complaints from Nick and Chris, which were drowned out by the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. His hand carried a pink bag full of goodies, and unbeknownst to him, a small napkin with a phone number written in elegant script nestled among the treats.

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[drivestraight]

wildcard!!! I know that you are more focused on writing works centering max, lando and oscar. I wonder if there is any chance you will write about lestappen again in near future. I just love your lestappen works so much and I'm sorry if this question makes you feel uncomfortable 🥺🥺

from here

near future no, but here’s about 5k of my abandoned (little brother of the) prince of monaco charles x driver max wip ❤️ as a gift

The Guardian is first in the round of interviews. A woman named Marie sits across from the sofa, beside cameras, light panels, and mics.

“To start,” Marie says, donning a sympathetic smile. Max struggles to take her at face value. “I want to acknowledge that I’m sure this isn’t how either of you would have liked your relationship to come out. How are you two doing?”

Max tries his hardest to keep a neutral expression. He scowled his way through the hours of media prep yesterday and got scolded each time.

He shifts on the sofa. For a couch made for royalty, it is not very comfortable.

Of course, it comes much easier to Charles, who returns a warm smile. He keeps his eyes on Marie, but places a hand on Max’s thigh, to comfort him. God, everyone’s going to love this, aren’t they?

Horribly, the physicality does help. Max takes a deep breath.

“You’re right,” Charles responds. “It is not at all ideal, but we are thankful for all of the grace that has been extended to us these past few days.”

Max purses his mouth.

Marie glances at him, waiting for agreement. Instead, Max busies himself with studying the details of the room they’re in. The Salle Des Gardes: cobalt walls, beautiful flower bouquets, and centuries-old portraits framed with gold. It’s so beautiful it makes Max uncomfortable.

At his silence, Marie moves on, smiles, and says, “Well, it’s great to have you both here.”

“Yes,” Charles says, “it is. Right Max?” he probes, squeezing Max’s thigh.

Somehow, Max manages not to glare. He clears his throat and manages to hum in concurrence.

“So,” Marie says, “I guess we can start from the beginning. I’m sure everyone would like to know how you two met.”

Max is grateful at how quickly Charles jumps to respond, “I have been a big fan of F1 ever since I was a child,” he replies, “but I did not meet Max personally until the Monaco Grand Prix in 2021.”

“On the podium?”

It was collateral damage, really, Max’s champagne spray getting all over Charles during the celebration. Max hadn’t even known, until Charles told him many months later.

Charles nods. “Yes, on the podium. A little after the race, he was invited to dine with my family, as the winners always are, and we… liked each other. We got on very well that night.”

Yes, Max thinks. We talked, we ate, we drank, we got into a huge fight about Ferrari, we got kicked out of the venue hall, then we hooked up in the toilets upstairs.

Sure, they got on well that night.

“We started seeing each other quite a bit, after,” Charles finishes.

They saved each other’s numbers, and every now and then, between Max’s races and between Charles’ royal obligations, they’d meet up in Monaco.

“Who asked who out?”

Charles turns his head and looks at Max, expectantly.

Max glares, but Charles only lifts a brow, unwavering. “I did, I guess,” Max concedes, trying not to roll his eyes at the way Charles glows, dimples pressed deep into his cheeks.

In a way it’s true. Max had been the one to shove Charles up against a wall and kiss him, drunkenly and furiously.

For the next two years, it was easy, despite who they were, perhaps because of who they were. They were on the same page about what it was they had: purely an arrangement of convenience. Entirely physical, no-strings attached. They’d meet in Max’s flat, maybe have a drink and talk about the most recent race, and get to it. After, Max would let Charles use his shower, then Charles would leave. Not once would Charles ever sleep over.

Still, they were exclusive, in a way. Max found something good, something safe, something easy, with someone who was on the same page as him. They were physically compatible. They wanted the same things from each other. Max didn’t see a need to look elsewhere, and neither did Charles.

Max had no interest in making it any more than it was. Neither did Charles.

For two years, it was simple like that. Max bribed his doorman, and Charles swore his security detail to secrecy. Charles hadn’t told anyone about Max. Max hadn’t told anyone about Charles. No one needed to know. What was there to tell? The F1 world champion and the Prince of Monaco’s little brother were friends with benefits? They were barely friends.

“Yeah?” Marie asks, looking surprised. “What was it about Charles that interested you?”

Charles’ expression is rapt and curious, his focus singularly on Max now.

Well, Max thinks. If they want him to speak from his heart, that’s what he’ll do.

“Of course,” Max says, smiling for the first time since the news broke, “it was not his personality.”

Marie laughs, amused. Charles makes an unbecoming noise, his entire face scrunching up.

“Max!” he squawks, outraged.

“What?” Max asks innocently, tipping his head to the side. He is starting to have a little fun. He finds Charles’ hand on his thigh, lays his over his knuckles, his thumb brushing at his wrist. “I thought we were of course wanting to be honest today. Your personality is not the first thing people notice about you.”

Annoyed, Charles purses his lips. “And what is?”

Max hums in faux contemplation. “Your face, of course.”

Charles’ brows knit together. Max relishes in the fact that Charles is the one on his toes this time. “You only like me for my face?”

Rolling his eyes, Max says, “It is the only good part about you.”

Charles squints, licks his lips, and levels Max with a look. Max knows that look: he is thinking, planning. 

It is pin-drop silent for a short moment. Suddenly, the room feels very small.

Charles leans in closer, marginally, but enough that Max’s breath hitches, and slides his hand higher up, his fingers firm against the inside of Max’s thigh. “Really? None of the other parts you like?” 

Max lets his eyes wander: from the mole on Charles’ cheek to the one on his neck, from the dip of his Cupid’s bow to the stubble on his chin. It is distracting and it is unfair, how beautiful Charles is.

“Really,” Max says, gaze returning to Charles’ eyes. He will hold his ground, even if he doesn’t mean it. “None of it.”

/

Thirty minutes later, Marie and all the cameramen leave. They are given half an hour in private to rest before their next interview. Le Parisien this time. At least then, he thinks, they’ll be more significantly more interested in Charles than they will be for him.

Even though they’re technically free now, the palace made it clear that they are not to leave this room until they’ve finished the last interview.

Once the doors shut and they are alone, Charles turns and glares at him.

Since the news broke yesterday morning, this is the first time they’ve truly been alone.

“Your team will not be happy with that. You saying you like me only for my face.”

Of course that’s what Charles will take from the interview. After Marie asked all her questions about the genesis of their relationship, her questions pivoted to Max, about what it means for him to be the first openly gay Formula 1 driver in decades.

Each time he was asked a question, Charles squeezed his knee, running circles with his thumb. 

Max hadn’t met with his PR team beforehand—Monaco’s royalty took priority, monopolized him and all of yesterday. He had no idea what Red Bull wanted him to say, what the optics were, so he spoke from the heart.

His answers were simple: it means nothing to him. It means nothing to what he has achieved. He never wanted to be an inspiration. An icon. An idol. If he is, then he is, but that was never his intention, that was never his goal.

Nothing changes.

“Obviously, I was joking,” Max mumbles, standing up and pacing around in front of the sofa. There’s a whole table filled with refreshments, and Max is hungry—he’s always hungry—but the season is in full swing, and he needs to keep his weight down. He wishes they had Red Bull or something, but they only have tea and coffee. He settles for shoving his hands into the dress slacks he was forced into, pressing the tip of his Oxford shoe against the border of the carpet. “And I do not think your team will be very happy with you feeling me up on camera.”

Charles huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. “I had to make it seem like we like each other, after what you said.”

Max scoffs and sits back down on the couch, toying with the seam of the green plush pillow beside him. “I think everyone is pretty convinced that we like each other,” he mutters, and then, mortifyingly, his stomach growls. Loudly. It’s the afternoon now, and he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

And Charles stands all of a sudden. Max watches, confused, as Charles makes a beeline to the table of refreshments, shoes clacking against the hardwood until he reaches carpet. There is a way about how Charles moves, magnetic to the eyes. He grabs a small scone, then heads back to Max.

Closer and closer, until he’s settled between Max’s spread thighs, towering over him.

Bossily, he shoves the scone in front of Max’s face. “Eat. We have a long day.”

Max sighs. He’s explained this to Charles before, his diet. “Charles,” he says, hoping that’s enough, not wanting to give the whole spiel again.

“It is a royal order,” Charles says seriously. He presses the scone against Max’s mouth.

Max angles his head away. “I am Dutch, if you didn’t know.”

“You live in Monaco,” Charles insists, “and I am the Prince.”

Max snorts. “You are the little brother of the Prince.”

In lieu of a verbal response, Charles sighs and places his hand on Max’s cheek, leveling Max with a look, that same one from before. His palm is soft, smooth, but his thumb is firm where it presses against the seam of Max’s lips, coaxing his mouth open. The ball drops; the rally ends. At the end of the day, Max is starving. He cuts his losses and bites, gaze fixed on Charles as he chews on the stupid scone. Once he’s swallowed, he expects Charles to let up, but Charles raises a brow, pressing the scone against Max’s lips again. Max groans, understanding, and takes another bite, and another, and just as he’s about to finish the scone, Charles quickly pulls it back, and eats the last bite himself.

Max rolls his eyes. Of course. Charles giggles, and wipes off a crumb from the corner of Max’s lip. Even when Max’s face is clean, Charles keeps his hand on Max’s cheek, smoothing out his frown.

They linger like this for a few moments, and Max feels the anxiety leftover from the interview start to dissipate, his shoulders laxing.

“I know you did not want this,” Charles says quietly. “I did not want it either.” Max swallows, his chest feeling tight. “But it’s like this, and we have to do it together. If it is to work, we have to make it look real.”

“I know,” Max says, starting to feel bad. Charles got fucked over with all of this too. Today, Charles is more calm, more—present, than he was yesterday, a quiet wreck in the briefing. His mental resiliance really is something. He places a hand on Charles’ waist, pulling him in closer. “I was of course there in the briefings.”

Charles pokes harshly at Max’s cheek, like he is trying to sculpt an artificial dimple. “I do not think you were listening.”

Max closes his thighs around Charles’ legs. He is very warm, and they have half an hour before the next interview. Hm. They might as well spend it wisely.

“Can you read my mind now? Is that another one of Prince Charles’ royal powers?”

Before Charles can respond, Max tightens his grip on his waist, before sliding his hand lower, to grab at Charles’ ass. Charles’ eyes widen, his mouth parts in surprise, and he sucks in a gasp.

“Max,” he whispers, blushing a soft pink. His hand drops to Max’s shoulder to steady himself.

“We of course have time,” Max points out, bringing his other hand to Charles’ other cheek, tugging him closer through the fabric of his slacks. “And we have a long day.”

It’s been months since the last time they did this. Not since before winter testing.

Max only now realizes how much he’s missed it.

“Not here,” Charles mumbles shyly, looking around, as if there’s anyone else here. Despite his protests, he doesn’t make any effort to fight Max’s hold.

Maybe, Max thinks, Charles misses it too.

“Why not?” Max asks. “Do you not like being watched by the portraits? They are your ancestors, right? I don’t think they’d mind.”

Charles sighs, but Max catches a small smile on his face. Regardless, Charles shakes his head, stubborn. “It is not the portraits I am worried about. What if someone comes in?”

“It will be their fault for not knocking,” Max snorts. At Charles’ withering glare, he sighs and says, “No one’s going to come in. There are guards outside.”

“Still,” Charles argues, pink all the way up to his ears now. His eyes drop to Max’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “We will be… messy for our interview.”

“But it will seem like we really like each other a lot,” Max jokes, grinning.

Charles doesn’t take the joke well. He pouts and pinches Max’s ear with his fingernails. Max laughs and releases Charles’ ass. “Fine, fine,” he concedes. “At least come here?”

Charles pulls his mouth to the side. “Will you behave?”

Max shows Charles his palms, hands positioned before his chest. “I will behave,” he assures.

Charles shoots him one last look, before sighing and climbing up onto the sofa, knees on either side of Max’s lap, and sitting. Immediately, he buries his face in the side of Max’s neck, his hair tickling Max’s ear, and lets out a contented noise.

Max barely got any sleep last night, all wired up, and from how exhausted Charles looks—feels, melting into him, breathing softly, maybe the first moment of silence he’s had all day—he can tell it must have been the same for him.

For a few minutes, they stay like that. Max closes his eyes, stroking Charles’ back. There are too many layers between them. Max kind of wishes he took his suit jacket off, or at least his tie, before he asked Charles to sit on his lap. Too late now, Max thinks, nosing at the spot below Charles’ ear. He notices, in this time, that Charles must be wearing a new cologne. It is nice; he smells nice. Charles always smells nice.

Max presses a harmless kiss on the side of Charles’ neck. Then another and another, until no space is left unkissed. He moves to the center of Charles’ throat, and Charles lets it happen, lets Max pepper small kisses along the ridges, his mouth closing, softly, over his carotid, Charles’ heart pulsing like a rabbit between Max’s lips. Charles likes that: the little kisses. When Max reaches the cut of his jaw, he starts to be a bit more bold with it—licking and biting gently, Charles’ stubble rough against his tongue, tracing the contours of him.

Charles starts to let out little pants, his hips starting to roll ever-so-slightly. Max slides a hand between their chests, what little space is left between them, and finds Charles’ crotch, gently palming over the bulge. He’s half-hard already. Max hums, pleased.

Finally, he makes the move and makes it stick: firmly, he kisses Charles, right on the lips. It is a tender kiss, but deep and filled with intent. No more pretense.

Breathily, Charles mumbles against his mouth, “This is not behaving.” He sounds annoyed, but he keeps kissing Max back, keeps grinding his ass on top of Max’s crotch.

Max pulls away, laughing when Charles immediately chases his mouth and makes an unhappy, surprised noise, laughing when he opens his eyes and sees Charles’ eyes: dark, pupils wide and wanting.

“Okay,” he says, voice a little raspy, even to his own ears. “We can stop.”

Charles’ jaw drops. Outrage is a cute look on him. “Oh,” he says, brows furrowing, exhaling through his nose, “you are—”

He doesn’t finish. He only shakes his head, grabs Max’s face with both his hands, firmly, and kisses him, furiously.

Charles’ mouth is soft and plush, but his kiss has a fire to them, an intensity; this part has always been the easiest, with him. The physicality. Everything else, that’s the difficulty.

Their noses brush, and Max pivots away, only slightly, to kiss at the corner of Charles’ mouth, light and teasing. “Yeah? What am I?”

Charles finds his lips again, positions Max’s head right back where it was, and plants a kiss square on his mouth. “Horrible,” Charles says, and kisses Max again. “Annoying,” he says, and kisses Max again. “The worst,” he says, and kisses Max again.

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that, of course,” Max says, helping Charles take his suit jacket off. “We have to seem like we like each other.”

Charles doesn’t deign him with a response, merely rolls his eyes and tosses the jacket to the side. He is gorgeous like this: eyes blown and glossy, his mouth parted, wet, begging to be kissed.

So Max kisses him again, his hands rucking Charles’ button-up from his slacks, until he can slip his hands under the fabric, finding his waist. He uses this newfound leverage to flip their positions, to maneuver Charles so that he’s on his back and horizontal on the ugly, uncomfortable sofa. Charles yelps; his chest heaves, and his throat bobs. He is so pretty like this: in the painfully bright light of this room, it is even more vivid, and for the first time since the news broke yesterday, Max thinks, maybe this will be worth it.

Max takes the moment to burn the sight of him into his retinas: his mousy hair messy around his head like a halo, his kiss-swollen lips parted and wanting, his clothes, even, rumpled and wrinkled in a way that Max knows he hates, in a way that he never lets anyone see.

Half an hour. Half of that is probably gone by now, Max reckons. They’ll have to hurry. He can take his time, another time.

He forces himself to focus. He takes off his own jacket before he forgets, shoves Charles’ thighs apart so that one leg is splayed off the couch, then he drives his knee between them. He swoops down once again, and Charles sighs dreamily into his mouth. Max slides his hands down Charles’ chest until he’s found the buttons of Charles’ slacks, undoing them with deft fingers.

“This is—” Charles starts, lifting his hips, helping Max pull his bottoms to his thighs. Multi-tasking, Max kisses down his throat, skips down to his stomach, and kisses at the happy trail leading from below his belly-button. Distracted, Charles moans and writhes beneath him, throwing his forearm over his eyes. Cute.

“What was that?” Max asks, amused. He kisses Charles’ hip bone lightly, and wraps his fingers around the base of Charles’ length, adoring the way Charles’ hips buck at the touch. He traces a vein with his thumb, his precum making the slide easy, then spits into his hand—not like they need it—and starts to jerk him off. Brows knitted together, Charles squirms, so Max keeps his body steady with a hand on his stomach, feeling the flutter of muscle there. 

Charles tries again, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can meet Max’s eyes. His face is pink, and his breaths come squeaky. He scrunches his nose, prissy and aristocratic, and says, “This is a very old couch. And my suit is very expensive.”

Max sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll keep you clean,” he promises, and takes Charles into his mouth, hollows his cheeks, and sinks as far down as he can go.

/

Against all odds, they have some time to spare. They spend it fixing each other’s clothes and sex hair, making each other look at least somewhat presentable. Unfortunately, while Max had kept his promise and kept Charles clean, Charles hadn’t returned the favor; now there’s a probably irreparable stain on the antique couch. Oops, Max thinks, and he makes Charles sit on it for their next round of interviews.

It isn’t so bad.

Thankfully, F1 was the only one they’d been on video for. Charles, for the rest of the day, is hazy-eyed and loose-limbed. Max capitalizes on his distraction, teases Charles as much as he can and knows how to—Charles lets it all happen.

And he seems, almost, as if to enjoy it.

But maybe Max is projecting.

/

By dinnertime, Max is finally released. Charles is whisked away by his brother before Max even tries to get a word in, so he doesn’t try. He gets driven home, orders Brad-approved takeout, and calls his dad. Lets him know how the day went. After, he calls his mum, then his sister, and then Raymond. At 8 PM, Brad comes over for training. They talk about things that don’t matter. At 10 PM, Max showers, brushes his teeth, turns off the lights, and crawls into bed. He checks his messages. He frowns when he notices that Charles hasn’t texted. Max isn’t sure why he was expecting him to.

He checks his other texts. He sees that Gemma has texted him his media schedule for the weekend. He doesn’t bother reading it, leaves it for tomorrow. He puts his phone down on the table, closes his eyes, and thinks.

In all this time, the world hadn’t stopped spinning. Even now, it doesn’t stop spinning. Media day is in three days. Infinitely worse: it’s Monaco. Charles will be there; for all of it, he will be there. Normally, WAGs and—now, Max guesses—BAHs are off-limit topics, but there’s no guarantee his sexuality will be. They will want to prep him. Make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid. Charles will be there, and they will have to act in love. Max will have to dodge cameras and avoid journalists the entire weekend. He will have to make statements. He will have to respond. Charles will be there.

On Sunday, Charles will be on the podium.

On Sunday, Max wants to win.

Too much to think about. Too much to worry about.

One day at a time, Max thinks. One day at a time.

/

Voici got a hold of the story first. Apparently, evidence had been slowly building up for months—quotes from Max’s building neighbors and a now-fired member of Charles’ security detail.

The most incriminating evidence, however, were the pap photos taken of them kissing in Max’s car.

They’d been so careful—but maybe, over the last few months, they’d grown complacent.

The story broke the day of the cancelled race in Imola, first thing in the morning. Four hours later, Le Parisien got a hold of it, and that’s when shit started to really hit the fan.

Red Bull was blindsided.

So was the Crown.

/

Max had been blissfully unaware until around noon when he woke up. For many hours, quieted by Do Not Disturb, his phone had been blowing up with calls from Raymond, from Christian, from his father. Everyone important in his life. Before he got a chance to call any of them back, he spotted the ESPN notification at the top of his screen:

Max Verstappen: Formula 1’s reigning world champion and first gay driver in decades?

Below that, an Apple News notification:

Monaco’s Sweetheart breaks hearts worldwide? The inside scoop of Prince Charles of Monaco and Max Verstappen’s 2-year long affair.

In a way, nothing in any of the reports had exactly been false.

/

Max was driven to the palace, silently escorted to a meeting room, and he was seated next to Charles, who was quiet and playing with his hands in his lap and looked like he might throw up. In that moment, Charles looked—small. Charles looked—afraid. Max had never seen him like that before. Max wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was okay, but the meeting was in full swing; they hadn’t even paused for Max’s entrance. He settled with placing a hand on Charles’ thigh, his heart rabbiting in his chest. Charles laid his hand over Max’s. It was all Max could do. Max was afraid too.

Once he arrived, however, they switched to English, and explained the plan they came up with while he was sleeping: to confirm the status of their relationship, and run a full press tour. Immediately, without coordinating with Red Bull. That the Prince’s little brother was not only dating a man, but dating the F1 world champion, needed an immediate response, and Charles’ image takes priority over Max’s.

They needed to take control of the narrative, spin it in the right way: They’re in love.

Max didn’t understand. He interrupted halfway, “But we’re—” He glanced at Charles, silent beside him. “We’re not actually—”

Finally, Charles spoke up. He lifted his head, turned to Max, and said, “It does not matter.”

“But—”

“Max,” Charles said, with finality. His eyes were shaking. He looked more upset than Max had ever seen him. “It does not matter.”

And that was that.

/

Tuesday morning, Red Bull post official statements on all their social media platforms, and Max’s social media manager posts a statement from him that he didn’t write. He doesn’t see any of it himself. He stays offline.

That afternoon, he’s in a few virtual meetings with marketing, and they confirm with him the schedule Gemma sent, that they’ve canceled the shootings he had with Checo, and that they want him to focus on keeping a low profile.

He has done more than they needed him to, thanks to the insistence of the Crown.

The interview with Marie won’t be released until Thursday, but Red Bull had received an early preview from the Guardian. To his surprise, the team is satisfied with it. They of course aren’t exactly pleased with some of his responses, and they request that he answer differently and less abrasively next time, but Max is guessing that their expectations were so low that he managed to exceed them, somehow.

They hadn’t even wanted him to speak to any press in the first place. Neither had Max, obviously, but Charles—it would have been silly if Charles had done the interviews alone. Charles needed him there. So.

Wednesday, he streams on Twitch with RedLine. It wasn’t exactly news to them or anyone close to him, the gay thing, but the Charles thing, well—it was a surprise to everyone. Even Max. The boys ask him if he wants them to steer clear from making any jokes about it, and Max says he doesn’t care either way. The last thing Max wants is for his friends to walk on eggshells around him; the last thing Max wants is for things to change any more than they already have. So Crane jokes about it, Bennett jokes about it, and Max also jokes about it. They permaban anyone in chat who jokes about it.

 And that’s Wednesday.

/

Thursday isn’t the hell he was expecting it to be.

Red Bull managed to pull strings and get Max out of the press conference and TV pen appearances, and Checo’s been left to handle the fanzone all on his own, so Max stays inside the Red Bull Energy Station, keeps his head down as much as possible, ignoring the roars of reporters outside, only speaking with his engineers and mechanics.

Tomorrow, though, he won’t be able to get around media.

Don’t worry about the press, GP tells him in the paddock, clasping a hand on his shoulder. It’s all noise. Just focus on driving. Nothing changes, at least from our end.

Max tries his hardest to believe it.