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ahundredtimesover · 3 months ago

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Something About You (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating (JK’s ex) (18+)

Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: Hi, it's here! This is a tribute to my group of friends. BTS is comfort and I love them so much 💜 Other female characters are inspired by some other fictional characters (tell me if you know who!) Also to Kim Namjoon, I'm sorry 🤣 (you'll get it). Please enjoy!

Your eyes dart to the time on your laptop screen.

4:17 PM.

This online meeting was supposed to end half an hour ago and you planned on clocking out right after so you could get to where you need to be but you should’ve known better. Your research team had taken so much time discussing operational aspects of the project that you are in charge of and you had to keep everyone on track. It worked for the most part.

But while your work chat is still buzzing with questions that you state you’ll respond to next week, your phone’s group chat is being bombarded with messages from your best friend.

[from: jiminie pabo] yooo ___ are you on your way??

[from: jiminie pabo] you better not flake on us or else tae will wrestle you

[from: jiminie pabo] reply to me!!

You manage to keep your expression neutral as you sneakily reply and say that you’re still stuck in a meeting and it’ll probably take you another 30 minutes before you could leave. Your car’s in the warehouse after a little accident so you’re gonna have to book a ride. It’s rush hour on a Friday so it’ll be tough, but you’re managing this team and you can’t just end the meeting without your members having ironed their thoughts out.

[from: jiminie pabo] kook is just finishing up. i asked him to pick you up from your place

[from: jiminie pabo] your carriage is on its way. you’re welcome

You sigh in relief internally at not having to worry about transportation. And it’s shortly after when the man in question sends you a text message to say that he’s just left the gymnasium and will get to you in 40 minutes max.

That’s enough time for you to get ready and make sure you have all your things packed and your mind devoid of all things work-related because as you’ve promised yourself, you’ll try this whole work-life balance madness and shut off for the weekend.

But then again, you don’t really have a choice when you’ve got that trip planned with your friends in the mountains. Or was it the forest? You’re not sure; the outdoors are all the same to you.

Taehyung had just arrived after a year and a half in London where he was making waves in a few theater productions. He wanted to immediately spend time with your group of 12, and a little vacation was planned right away, just like how it was in the old days.

The camping-turned-glamping weekend was because you convinced everyone that setting up tents was just gonna waste your time, and the point of the trip is to spend it together. You pretty much pouted your way through it, but they also know you well enough that not sleeping on a bed and not having proper running water just isn’t your thing. Doing it once was enough, and the last time you camped, you were miserable.

Hoseok luckily found a property that operated cabins with all the comforts of home. You saw a bed and bathroom and you locked in, and you’ve been waiting for this weekend since your older friend laid out all the activities you’ll be doing.

Adulting is stressful enough; trying to make a difference in the world is even more. The time you spend with the people who know you best and who accept all versions of you has become your key to survival.

And yes, that includes your brat of a best friend.

[from: jiminie pabo] get ur flat asses here soon, ok?

[from: jiminie pabo] i just want to eat and drink and pretend I don’t have responsibilities

You decide against defending your not-so-flat ass because it really doesn’t stand a chance against his, and instead say you’ll update them once you’re near.

You head out the door once Jungkook texts you that he’s just turned to your street, and you find him already opening the trunk and reaching out for your bag, just like the gentleman that he is. He’s donned in his usual sweats, a look you’re so used to that you forget sometimes he’s a proper adult with a proper job.

“Did your students win?” You ask as you enter the car.

“They placed, so they’ve got another tournament to go,” he smiles. “They were so shocked but I knew they could do it. They worked so hard.”

“Having a good coach helps, I guess,” you wink.

He chuckles then asks about your meeting, and you narrate how tiring this week - more like this whole month - has been. Between the weekly research conferences you’ve been organizing and the daily management of your teams, you haven’t really had time to rest.

“Is that why you insisted on going for a cabin trip?” He asks. “Honestly, I was looking forward to setting up camp and all that.”

“I know you do that for fun and stuff but why would we do all the work and set up our own tents? This isn’t a team building activity, you know?”

“Isn’t that the point of going on a friend trip? To bond and do stuff together like that?”

“We do enough bonding when we make our food,” you point out.

“Yeah? And what exactly do you contribute?”

“Excuse me, I’m the taster,” you gasp. “Trying the food before you all do is like, a crucial role.”

“You can’t even tell if a dish needs more salt or not,” he chuckles, referring to your obvious lack of food knowledge and your very basic palette.

“Uh, I didn’t know Jimin was the one who picked me up,” you scowl. “Why are you calling me out, Kook? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“What if I don’t want to be?” he teases.

“You must! Or be the neutral one, then!”

“That’s Tae’s job. I’m just here to enjoy the show. It’s never boring with you and Jimin around,” he smiles.

Your face relaxes at this. At least you provide some form of entertainment to your friends, since you can’t really contribute in any other way. Your clumsy ass and inability to develop practical life skills won’t let you. It’s your shared helplessness that has you and Namjoon bonding every trip.

“Why are you so against camping anyway? You literally don’t even have to do anything.”

“Kook, there are four things in this world that make me angry - heat, bugs, Jimin, and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.”

“You forgot cold food,” Jungkook adds.

“Because hot food is supposed to be eaten hot. Duh.”

“And Mo-eum’s chewing.”

“Because she eats like a child.”

“And Tae’s headlock.”

“Dude can choke me with those arms,” you exclaim.

“Text that’s not justified also drives you nuts. And indented paragraphs. And non-use of the Oxford comma. And Gill Sans. And—”

“Yah!” You exclaim, smacking his chest with the back of your hand.

He responds with the kind of laugh that Jungkook reserves for your group of friends - squinted eyes, scrunched nose, wide open mouth, and bouncing shoulders. With a 10-year friendship under your belts, you know this is him teasing. And genuinely enjoying it.

“You’re having too much fun making fun of me, huh,” you frown.

He settles into a smile - the cheeky yet comforting one that you’ve gotten used to over the years.

“___, I coached the high school swim team all afternoon. You know how intense those matches get,” he groans. “Getting on your nerves and then telling all our friends about it is my chosen relief for tonight.”

“You make me sound like I whine a lot,” you pout.

His pursed lips tell you that you actually do, and you smack his arm this time and whine some more.

“I was just making the point that many things, in fact, make you angry. Not just four,” he corrects.

“This is why I’m single,” you sigh, sinking into your seat. “And why I forever will be.”

Jungkook turns to you and your faraway eyes tell him you’ve fallen into that corner of your mind again that always drowns in thoughts. He doesn’t know how you went from thinking of what makes you angry to believing you’ll forever be single but that’s how conversations with you go all the time.

Your mind goes from one realm to another.

And you ramble. A lot. A moment of being lost in your own mind is immediately followed by a period of vocal self-reflection and bouts of existential crisis, which is odd for a person who seems to be so sure of herself and what she stands for.

But that’s how you are. You could go 30 minutes straight just talking about one of the research projects you’re working on without breathing. One time, Hoseok asked you about what was going on with the women’s protests and you ended up presenting a whole ass thesis about social movements, complete with some conceptual framework and other things Jungkook didn’t understand.

And while your friends looked at you in bewilderment - except for Namjoon, who probably had read that same piece of work and was giving side comments during your impromptu lecture - Jungkook applauded you internally. You were very passionate about it. And you clearly knew your shit.

When he met you during your first year of university after Jimin, his best friend from middle school, brought you and your best friend Mo-eum to dinner, Jungkook thought your rambling was typical of a political science major who just had too much to say. He later on realised that you were actually one of those rare types who had such a rich, active mind with the ability to eloquently express all her thoughts. Majority of the time at least, but even if he couldn’t always grasp what you were saying, he knew it was substantial.

And much as he enjoys teasing you about all these quirks you have, it’s also his job as your friend to assure you that you’re doing alright.

You’ve already got your legs folded on the passenger seat and your face distorting with every new thought that crosses your mind, so he nudges you with his elbow.

“Yah, your being single has nothing to do with your grocery list of things that make you mad,” he says. “They’re harmless, okay? Plus, being angry isn’t always a bad thing, right? Like the great Kim Namjoon said - anger is necessary. It’s our history because anger has changed the world. And while you may be angry at all these little things, you and I know it’s that same fire in you that makes you good at what you do. And it’s what makes you a good person and a good friend.”

Your eyes turn to the man next to you, no doubt exhausted from a full day of teaching middle school kids and coaching the high school swim team but breezing through traffic while dealing with your whiny ass.

You’re a words of affirmation type of girl. All your friends know that. But you also know that when they assure you about something, they genuinely mean it.

“True, anger is good sometimes,” you nod and smile.

“I mean, who else would willingly fight their friends’ nasty exes and lay all the receipts to their faces?” Jungkook points out. “And you know already that even if I don’t understand half of the things you say about your research projects, I know enough that your work has changed lives. So good job, ___. Not everyone can do what you do.”

“Hmm, says the Teacher of the Year winner for three years in a row,” you say, wanting to be the supportive friend this time. “You’re helping the students a lot in healthily dealing with the world and you don’t even have to expend your energy on anger.”

“But we’re both still changing lives, aren’t we?” He asks you.

“We are. God, how did we even get to talking about this?” You laugh.

“It was Namjoon and his great speech,” Jungkook chuckles. “Imagine if he was a poet or a songwriter or something.”

“Well, his grandparents decided that his pen game would be beneficial for a future political career and who knows? Speech writer one day, assemblyman the next? Maybe then he’d help us dismantle the patriarchy and make this place safer for women,” you start. “Because actually, men’s role in addressing gender inequality is so understated and—”

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s and both of yours are saying the same thing - here you go again. You both laugh in understanding and you shake your head in submission, stating that you just want to chill and won’t go into one of your rants this time.

It does give Jungkook an opening to tease you about another thing, though.

“Speaking of Namjoon, I still think you two would’ve made a good couple.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna cook the food? Slice the fruits? Change the frikkin lightbulb? Repair whatever breaks in the house?”

The thought of how helpless you and Namjoon would be cracks Jungkook up.

“True. Clumsy people can’t be together if we want world peace,” he hums. “He’s proof that God is fair. He saw the brain and dimples and thought, yeap let me mould him into a klutz.”

“And you are not wrong,” you laugh. “Plus, we’ve known each other for a decade. How does one decide to just… date their friend?”

“That kind of normally happens, ___,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “That’s literally how Seokjin and Hayoung got together. Met at college, became good friends, and then boom, went to a concert together then realised they like each other. And now they’re engaged.”

The thought brings a smile to your face. Thinking about your cousin’s love story with the most handsome and thoughtful man you’ve ever met gives you hope. You’re glad you entered the same university two years later than she did, in time for you to witness that friendship blossom into something more. And of course, to meet her other equally awesome friends.

You’re just not quite sure if that kind of thing is for everyone. Your two former relationships had been whirlwind romances, but the flame died as quickly as it sparked. You keep a small group of friends and none of the men, including the one next to you, had ever been a prospect.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone rings.

“Gyu-rim and I are at the supermarket right now,” Yoongi says, straight to the point as always. “We’re buying all our food already. Can you pass by the one nearest Seokjin’s house so we can put some of the drinks in Jungkook’s cooler?”

“Got that, uncle,” you reply, with the man no longer reacting to your term of endearment for him. “Can you get me a whole pack of sour gummy worms please? Thank you!”

You drop the call and instruct Jungkook to turn the corner. You meet Yoongi and Gyu-rim, who haul half of the groceries in the trunk. You place your pack of gummies in your bag, but you catch Jungkook eyeing it, so you ask him if he wants to nibble on something or if he’s hungry.

“I’ve got red bean bread with me,” you say. “Do you want some?”

“We’ve got a long drive so might as well,” he says. “I didn’t really get to eat during lunch because the kids were too nervous to eat and I didn’t want to show them that I still had an appetite.”

“I’m sure Seokjin and Tae’s parents prepared something for us like they always do,” you say.

There’s a reason why their house is your meeting point before every trip. Other than it being your hangout spot throughout your university years, their family also always serves a lot of food when you’re all around.

You offer Jungkook your container of the bread and he picks up two, devouring them immediately before eating another one in two bites. You grab his water jug from the backseat and hand it over to him. Just as he finishes, you enter the village and arrive at the house.

You pinch and pull his cheek as you often do to express your thanks, and you get out of the car before he pinches you in return.

You enter the living room and the scene before you is one you’ve seen hundreds of times over the past 10 years.

There’s Jimin being dramatic over losing in Mario Kart, Mo-eum being happy just placing higher than him, Hoseok laughing hysterically even if he’s second, and Seokjin cheering for himself as the winner like always. Hayoung and Suhyeon are busy chatting, Yoongi and Namjoon are munching on something while trying to convince Gyu-rim that it’s still possible to find a decent man in their thirties, and Taehyung is at the center, singing opera just because.

But once they see you, they stop what they’re doing, accept the hug you always give them, and ask you how you are. Even the not-so-affectionate ones have learned to give in. It’s the perk of being everyone’s baby, you think.

Being the youngest of five kids and with large age gaps with your siblings, it was natural for you to seek and receive affection from your friends, just as it was natural for them to take care of you. That’s mostly because you’re clumsy and clueless about many things, and you’re used to convenience and being looked after.

It’s nothing they’ve ever complained about, and you’re just glad that you found people who genuinely love caring for you.

Taehyung gives you the tightest hug instead of the headlock he greeted you with the last time. You’re still not used to his large arms wrapping around you, but the warmth hasn’t changed. He bulked up for his role in that West End production, and somehow he got even bigger since the last time you saw him, which was four months ago when you went to London to watch his play.

The welcome of Jungkook is a lot less doting than yours. Even if he’s the youngest amongst everyone, they know he doesn’t require the same affection as you do.

In fact, they depend on him more than anyone, and it always amuses you how, despite being the baby of his family as well, he developed life skills that allow him to naturally figure things out. Perhaps it’s his being a teacher but he’s always been like this since you met him - an all-rounder who seems to know what to do in every situation.

It’s not long after when Yoongi suggests you should all get going. It’s a two-hour drive to Chungbuk, after all, and it’s predicted to rain on your way there.

You get in Jungkook’s SUV with Jimin and Mo-eum while the older ones get in two other cars. Taehyung delivers a bag of food to the others before he takes the seat behind you. He hands you a roll of gimbap that his mother had made, and you pop pieces in your mouth while holding the container out for Jungkook to eat while he drives.

Despite the long day and each one of you having full time jobs, the ride is still filled with banter and karaoke sessions. Taehyung has to referee when you and Mo-eum butt heads with Jungkook and Jimin, as the boys always like to tease and push your buttons.

All that is temporary though, as at the end of the day, you stick to each other like glue. The five of you always opt to sleep together in one room or one suite and in this case, one cabin, even if you have to make adjustments with the sleeping arrangements.

“So…” Jungkook starts, his eyes darting from one end of the cabin to the other. “Us boys are definitely not gonna fit in that.”

The bed by the window is the larger of the two, but it’s still too small for the three of them, not with their build and ways of sleeping. It’s a situation you’ve had before, so you go with your backup combination.

“Jimin can sleep with me and Mo-eum,” you state. “Kook, you and Tae can take the loft bed.”

“Sure, that works,” Jungkook nods.

He looks around and appreciates the coziness of your lodging for the weekend. It’s definitely fancier than a tent, but it also just houses the basic necessities. There’s a small table right by the door with three stools and a small kitchen counter and refrigerator across from it. The bathroom is surprisingly spacious though, and he can already guess that’s one reason why you chose this property. He forgot to point out earlier that small bathrooms also drive you nuts.

Next to you, Jimin groans and warns that if you hit him in your sleep again like you’d done before, he’s gonna push you in the river. You can only smile innocently, as not hurting him is a promise you’re unsure you’ll be able to keep.

After that’s settled, you meet up with the rest of your friends outside. The seven of them have split up in two other cabins - Seokjin and Hayoung with the girls in one, and the rest of the boys in another. They’ve also just put away their things and it’s time to get dinner going.

Everyone gets to their tasks like clockwork - some are organising all the groceries in the cupboards, some are chopping up ingredients, and some are building the fire. You, Namjoon, and Taehyung - the designated cleaners - decide you’ll at least try to be useful and start assembling the camping chairs.

You surprisingly find it quite therapeutic. Between the scent of rain that just stopped and the sounds of nature, there’s something that feels so healing about doing all this with your friends.

Sure, it’s smoky. The ground is a tad bit soft from the downpour earlier, too. And the bugs are having a party everywhere, causing you to shriek every time one of them gets near you.

But there’s chatter and laughter and anticipation. There’s this calmness despite the chaos, and it’s all this that you’ve missed this past year.

Driving out of town to get away during school breaks was a thing you all did during your university days. When the five of you finally graduated and joined the rest of your friends in full-time adulting, the trips became less. Post-work drinks and weekend hangouts were frequent, but it was difficult to align everyone’s schedules for something that was more than a day.

Taehyung was the one who made sure they still happened somehow, even if it was every couple of months. It’s the first time you’re all complete after a year and a half, and the last trip you had was before he flew out.

Having this again after so long feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It’s as if you don’t feel like you have to carry all your burdens on your own. And seeing your friends’ smiling faces despite their respective high-stress jobs, you know they feel the same way, too.

Your sentimental thoughts are disturbed by Jimin yelling for someone to get something before he disappears into your cabin. You still follow him inside to find out what he needs, learning then that he’s back in the bathroom for the second time since you arrived.

“What does he want?” You ask Jungkook, who stands by the tiny kitchen.

“I asked Jimin to get me gochujang from the guys but he, well… he’s got some business to do,” he laughs. “Can you get it for me, please?”

You nod in response then tease your best friend about not clogging the toilet before you get the condiment from the resident cooks outside. You return to the cabin and watch Jungkook skillfully mix a bunch of things in a pot.

“What’s that for?” You ask next to him.

“We’ll fry chicken later for dinner number two and this is the sauce,” he answers.

“Oh,” you nod. “It smells good. And spicy.”

He sees your slightly nervous face then reassures you that he’ll set aside some for you and Taehyung before adding more chili, knowing your low tolerance for heat. You smile in response, and wanting to know if it’s manageable for you, Jungkook scoops some for you to try.

You take the teaspoon he hands out and taste it. You let it linger before deciding it’s something you can definitely eat.

“Does it need anything else?” He asks.

“Uh,” you trail, your eyes darting from him to the sauce, clearly clueless if there’s more he needs to add, but you act like you’re trying to figure it out.

He tastes it himself.

“Sugar,” he states, then looks at you with a slight smirk. “That’s what you were gonna say, right?”

“Totally,” you lie, but he sees right through you and laughs.

It’s a Jungkook thing, you think - to tease and be a bit cheeky but never overdoing it.

He sets aside a mound of sauce in a bowl before adding more chili powder in the pot that the rest of them will have. He chills them all then says he’ll help prep the rest of the chicken outside and you follow him out. It’s the same time that Jimin opens the door and you fake gag to his face before asking him if he’s okay.

“My tummy’s been a bit weird since this morning,” he groans.

“Take something before it gets worse,” you advise. “Ask Mo-eum. Surely the paramedic would know what to give you, right?”

He nods, and you already feel bad for him with this rough start to the weekend. But you stay with Jimin the whole night. He hates having to skip on the pajeon and chicken because they’re too oily, but you give him half your share of the kimchi stew to make up for it. You also know it’s his favorite.

You serve him water whenever he runs out, and even if he was told to pass up on alcohol tonight, you let him take sips of your beer just so he doesn’t completely miss out. You wrap a blanket around him so he doesn’t get too cold, and he sweetly smiles at you and comments how nice you are to him.

“It’s my apology in advance in case I unconsciously hurt you later,” you sweetly smile back.

Everyone laughs, knowing that’s not far from happening.

The night goes on with the bright stars in the sky and the crackling of the fire pit while you all take turns washing up.

It’s close to midnight when you’ve finally settled in bed, with Jimin laying in between you and Mo-eum. You lost rock-paper-scissors so you’re on the outer side of the bed, even if you argue that you’re more likely to fall off it because you definitely cannot stay in one position when you sleep.

But you’re required to honor the results of the game so you stay on your side, your left arm and leg wrapped around Jimin’s side. Despite the possibility of you pulling him along if you do fall, your best friend lets you; he knows you can’t sleep without hugging something.

Mo-eum lays fetus-curled on Jimin’s right, and both of you have your eyes on his screen as he goes through TikToks that have you three in controlled giggles. You shush them when Jimin snorts, as he sends one of the videos to your group chat. Just then, you hear Jungkook control his laughter from the loft bed, too, prompting you all to laugh even harder.

“Go to bed, you weirdos,” he groans, trying his best to just get to sleep.

“You’re just jealous you’re missing out on the fun down here,” you tease, turning around to stick your tongue at him.

He shakes his head at you.

“Yup, talk about fun when you can’t get your ass off the bed in a few hours,” he counters, making a face before lying back down.

Jungkook starts to do breathing exercises, following the rhythm of Taehyung’s soft snores next to him. It works, as the next thing Jungkook remembers is waking up to his alarm at 5 in the morning.

He nudges the man next to him then heads down the ladder to wash up before your morning activity.

He’s caught in surprise when he finds Jimin sitting on the stool, holding a bottle of Soju on his nose.

“What the heck happened to you?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin groans and turns towards the bed with angry eyes.

“She did.”

Jungkook chuckles because much as he expected this, it’s still funny when it happens.

“Was it her fist or her elbow?”

“Her elbow,” Jimin sighs. “That woman doesn’t even exercise. I don’t know where her strength comes from! Ugh, I should’ve made her sleep in the loft with you instead.”

“And be the one to get smacked on the face? No, thanks.”

“Your nose can handle it,” Jimin teases.

The younger man bends his arm to fake slap his friend who’s nursing a possibly bruised nose. But that’s one of the things Jungkook is thankful for - not being your go-to bed mate, which saves him from any possible injury to his face or any other part of his body. You’ve claimed many of your friends already, and he still doesn’t know how you’re able to do all that in your sleep.

Seokjin and Hoseok enter your cabin to yell that there’s 10 minutes left until you all have to leave for the hike to the nearby mountain in time for the sunrise. You’re the last one off the bed because you were in such deep sleep that it feels like you’re still dreaming.

You’re oblivious to the damage you caused, as you half-mindedly do your morning routine and dress up appropriately for this chilly morning. It’s when you notice Jimin’s slightly red nose and his angry eyes that you realise you might’ve unknowingly done something last night, and his growl when you ask him if he’s okay is your confirmation of that fact.

You try to make it up to him with hugs and a reminder that you’d taken care of him last night but he’s still sore and you’re still sorry.

He dramatically narrates what happened on your way to the mountain, and while most of your friends are laughing because it’s just an insane yet predictable thing to happen, you actually feel bad for him.

Jimin pretends to not care about you during the hike. He stays ahead of the pack instead of walking side-by-side with you because he knows that things like this bore you and you need him to feel entertained.

But not today, as you see him laughing about with Gyu-rim and Suhyeon while you’re stuck at the back of the pack with Yoongi who’s still half asleep and Mo-eum who’s so lost in her surroundings that she barely notices you, even when you trip on stones or shriek because of the bugs.

You groan to yourself.

You love sunrises and pretty skies. You’re just not particularly fond of the early wake up call and long walks you have to make to see them at their best.

Plus, you’re sweating. And because of the energy you’re exerting, you’re starting to feel hot, too. You take a deep breath and try to rein in all your negative aura so you could release them because being annoyed is not how you want to spend this beautiful morning.

You exhale all that and it comes out as another groan.

“I didn’t know you hated hiking that bad,” a teasing voice calls you out. “You could just stay here and wait for us to come back down. That’s an option.”

“Hey, that’s mean,” you pout and try to give your best puppy eyes to the man who’s now leveled himself with you.

“Of course I’m kidding,” Jungkook shakes his head.

He pulls your wrist to continue on the walk, and that’s when you realise that everyone else has gone ahead. And just as your eyes widen in shock that they had indeed left you behind, Jungkook gets to it first and explains that the back group was waiting for you but he insisted that they go ahead so as not to miss the sunrise in case you opt to not continue.

“No one leaves anyone behind, you know that,” he says. “And for the record, Jimin was the one asking if you were okay and then ordered me to check on you and make sure you get to the top on time. So yes, he’s worried even if he’s still upset that you elbowed his nose. Especially since Joon accidentally hit it with his backpack.”

You stop yourself from laughing because Jimin just really can’t catch a break, but you also truly feel bad for him that he has to suffer in more ways than he deserves.

“Fine. Drag me up this mountain, then. My legs will give up soon,” you grunt.

“Stay upright for me, yeah? I don’t really plan on carrying your ass all the way up there,” he chuckles.

You make a face and he just laughs again, then proceeds to take the bag off your back and swings it over his shoulder.

You make it to the top in time, just before the sun begins its slow ascent up the sky. It’s much cooler at the peak and the thick fog covers the quaint town below. It’s much more peaceful here, too, and you embrace the tranquility alongside your friends, as the view has left everyone speechless. You snap some photos - enough to remind you of the moment - and then settle on a rock to watch the sky change its colors.

“So pretty, isn’t it?” Hayoung sighs in awe as she sits next to you. “Just like the ones our grandparents would drive us to see.”

“I’m sure they’re enjoying this from up there,” you smile in response, recalling your summers in their home with the rest of your cousins, when life was simpler and you didn’t have responsibilities that weighed you down.

Once the sun has found its place above the clouds, you all gather on a flat area of the mountain and get your portions of the rice cake soup that Seokjin and Yoongi prepared this morning. Coffee is passed around and Jimin is the one who hands you your cup. He sits next to you and shows you your work of art on his face, and you both decide that having Mo-eum’s curled body in between is the best option on your last night. She fortunately agrees.

It’s close to 8AM when you get back to the cabins, as all of you took much longer on the hike down. It’s an hour of hanging outside and by the river before you’re all driving out into town for some lunch. The nearby market had you buying fruits and clams for tonight’s dinner while your ATV ride in the afternoon had you squealing in both excitement and fear.

It was your first time driving on your own, and after Jungkook had taught you which buttons to press, he drove away at maximum speed. Much as you nag him for his risky tendencies when it comes to things like this, you’ll admit it was refreshing hearing him scream in exhilaration.

All your friends like to have fun and that includes you. It’s why you go on trips like this - to try new things and get your heart racing, maybe live on the edge a little and sustain that passion for life that you all promised each other you’d find and live out outside of your respective careers that you put your whole selves into.

Adulting, you’ve learned, is about maintaining that part of yourself that still finds joy in changing seasons and pink-colored skies. It’s about carrying out your responsibilities while parking them on the side for a weekend over good food and bottles of beer. It’s about planning for the next 10 years while living in the moment. It’s not easy, but perhaps you’re able to do it because you all have each other.

And so watching Namjoon’s tense face relax in enjoyment, seeing a timid Suhyeon let go a little, and hearing Seokjin and Hayoung giggle in their shared ride are things that give you energy, because you know they’re enjoying this moment right here with you.

You finish right before sunset and return to your accommodation exhausted yet still somehow refreshed. There’s less to do now, as much of your dinner is grilled meat and seafood, so Jungkook suggests watching Halloween on the outdoor projector. It’s one of the features of the property that you were excited about, but you didn’t really consider a slasher movie for your last night in the forest.

No one else seems to do so aside from Jungkook, who insists that it’s all part of the fun. While a part of you thinks this is a stupid idea, you also don’t know what else could be more perfect than a thriller film in this environment. So you support him and it’s not long after when you find yourselves in front of the screen, with plates of meat and clams, bowls of rice, and cups of ramyeon around you.

There were definitely jump scares and men and women alike shrieking, either because of the movie or some sound from the woods. Seokjin dropped his can of beer more than once, and Hoseok gave up midway and hid behind Namjoon for the rest of the movie. You were seated next to Jimin on the outdoor couch and yelled in his ear several times that he banned you from being close to him for the rest of the night.

It’s how you found yourself next to Jungkook on the picnic bench where he was so unbothered while you cussed out every time you were surprised, either because of the movie or because of him. Which was many times.

Your heart is pumping by the end of it but you admit it was still fun. It’s the kind of stress you don’t mind feeling every once in a while.

It seems that everyone else felt the same, as the reactions and string of curses somehow made up for the unexpected horror of the night. Naturally, you all gather towards the fire pit.

The air is chilly and despite the tension from earlier, everyone seems relaxed and at peace. Conversations go from Seokjin and Hayoung’s wedding plans, to Taehyung’s audition clip that he sent for a Broadway production in New York, to Jimin’s recent blind date. The latter topic leads to Gyu-rim stating how hard it is to date in her thirties, an exchange she was having just a day ago.

“You literally just turned 30,” Yoongi nudges her knee. “You have a decade to go before you can be sure it’s really that difficult.”

“Well, I don’t have that many options to start with,” she counters. “You’re my only friends. People at work are shit. And my mom’s friends’ sons are either too young or too old.”

“Don’t you have that cute neighbor?” Mo-eum asks. “Or what about the owner of your favorite cafe? Doesn’t he leave little smiley faces on your cup every morning? Or the guy from the gym!”

“Well, the cute neighbor orders so much beer and chicken, it might be an obsession. And the cafe owner might just be flirting with all his female customers with doodles, who knows? And gym dude with nice hair talks to his mom all the time. That’s not exactly a green flag.”

“Now you’re just projecting,” Namjoon states. “You’re calling out red or yellow flags that might not actually mean anything, and you’re only doing that because–”

“I dated someone with a weird food habit, liked someone who turned out to be a serial cheater, and got dumped because this guy’s mom told him to,” Gyu-rim finishes. “In short, you never really know something’s wrong until it goes wrong, and when it does, it sucks like hell.”

“That’s why you get to know someone,” Yoongi says. “You date and then learn things about them and then break up if you don’t like what you see. You know they’re the one when you like them despite it all.”

“It’s just too much effort,” your older friend sighs. “And yes, I know that’s what relationships are supposed to be about but like, I want to work on communication and learning how to understand someone… not accepting some ick or skeletons in the closet type of shit. Those are things I want to know before I decide I’d like to date them.”

“Well, I guess it’s hard when there’s no one to vouch for them,” Suhyeon chimes in. “I mean, we knew Seokjin’s a good guy because we’ve known him for years. It wasn’t hard for either him nor Hayoung to make that decision about dating. Maybe that’s what makes it hard at this age and our prospects are people we barely know anything about. You’re kinda going into it blindly.”

Her words feel like a slap on the face to you, something Suhyeon is totally unaware of because these are the questions you’ve been having about your own past relationships that just live in your mind.

Your exes have been people you dated shortly after meeting them. The attraction was immediate and when two people gravitate towards each other that intensely so soon, it usually means something really special. Somehow you thought that feelings that strong and that certain meant you could overlook the flaws and imperfections of the other person.

Both times you were wrong. And while you’re glad you got out before you got in too deep, both times you still wondered if it would’ve worked out if you just held on a little longer, or if it would’ve even started had you known fully what you were getting into.

But the unknown excites you, at least when it comes to relationships. It’s kind of like research - you learn a bit about the person, make a hypothesis, then test it. You could be totally off mark or very close to it. Still, the process is always different. It keeps you on your toes because you don’t know what to expect even if, ironically, you already had an idea of what you wanted out of it in the beginning.

Perhaps that was your undoing - focusing on the high, anticipating the excitement of being right, then copping out when it wasn’t what you expected.

It’s not something you’ll say out loud though, at least not right now.

So you stay comfortable in your seat with a jacket over your tired body. You listen to your elders with two years more experience hash out what went wrong in their past relationships, and if they think they’ll end up settling for someone they know or are comfortable with, just for the sake of having a companion in this life.

It gives Jimin the opportunity to pitch to Yoongi and Gyu-rim this “40 and still single” pact, where they should just date if they don’t have anyone by that age, but both of them just look at him incredulously and shake their heads.

For some reason, your best friend is an advocate of friends-to-lovers type of stories even if he goes on blind dates all the time. He’s said he believes in it for other people but not really for himself. You share a mind like that - intense feelings from the onset are genuine and unmistakable. Sometimes you meet someone and immediately just know. You may have been wrong both times but it doesn’t mean you’ll always be wrong.

Who knows? Your future husband might be on a camping trip in some lakeside area not far from here, and you meet him in a chance encounter and things pick up from there. Suddenly the thought excites you again, but it’s something you keep to yourself.

You all make a toast to your existent and non-existing love lives. It’s enough to keep the energy hopeful until you all decide to retire for the night.

You lay in bed with thoughts suspended in your mind, just like the stars spread across the sky. Your eyes wander to their twinkling lights as you stare out the skylight.

That is, until you hear a voice whispering your name. You look upward, towards the left, and there’s Jungkook and his head peeking from the loft bed’s railing.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks.

You shake your head in response.

“Got any tips?” You ask, the tiredness hitting you once again.

“Tense your muscles and then relax them slowly. Do your 4-7-8,” he instructs. “Works like magic.”

“You’re just tricking me into making weird faces,” you frown.

“You do that even without me saying it, ___,” he chuckles. “Just try. You’re thinking too hard, I can almost see the thought bubbles appearing over your head.”

You roll your eyes this time but you follow his advice. You feel your muscles loosen and that does something to your brain, as if it, too, is relaxing on its own. And it works.

The next thing you know, your eyes are opening to the sun’s bright light, and there’s those same doe-eyes from last night, somehow content because maybe even he can see it - you had a really good sleep.

You wait for your mind to fully wake up while you curl under the covers. Mo-eum’s in the same position as she was last night and Jimin seems to be peaceful and unhurt. That appeases you at least. Up in the loft, you can see Taehyung already taking up the empty space next to him.

The bathroom door opens and Jungkook exits with his hair sprout bouncing as he walks, prompting you to giggle.

“What’s funny?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“You look like a baby with your hair,” you say.

“It won’t go down,” he groans, attempting once more to flatten the top of his head.

“Just tie the whole thing then. At least it’ll be intentional.”

“Yeah, so you can make fun of me some more?”

“Maybe,” you playfully shrug.

He walks towards you and flicks your forehead, and you try to kick him without disturbing the two people still asleep next to you. But Jungkook, like the athlete that he is, manages to grab your foot wrapped in your blanket before it hits him, and now you’re his hostage.

You glare at him - half pleading and half threatening - but he just makes a face at you. His grip on your heel is a little hard but it seems like it’s what you need, as the hike from yesterday morning has your leg and feet feeling a little sore.

“Hmm, Kook. Massage it please,” you moan, pushing your limb towards him.

“Only if you massage mine.”

“But I don’t wanna touch your toe socks,” you whine.

“Hey. Don’t be mean to them,” he frowns, eventually giving in as he starts massaging your calf.

“It’s just funny. That’s what my nephew wears. And he’s four,” you giggle.

“Toe socks know no age, you brat,” he says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your chuckle turns to another groan at the expert way he kneads your muscles. You could easily fall asleep with this, but just when you think you’re about to, Jungkook pinches your leg and you cover your mouth before you yell out your expletives.

He giggles in that child-like way he does when he teases, and all you could do is glare at him. But he makes it up to you with another minute of massaging, and you softly smile at him in thanks.

“So, no incidents last night?” He asks, gesturing towards your bedmates.

“None, although I think Jimin went to the bathroom again in the middle of the night,” you respond, raising your arm for Jungkook to pull so you could get the energy to get out of bed.

“Poor guy,” he shakes his head. “Goes on a trip only to get hit in the nose and get a stomach bug.”’

You shake your head at the absurdity of things but then again, if there’s anyone who’d roll with the punches and even laugh at his own misery, it’s Jimin. That’s always been the kind of optimism and easygoing energy you need in your life.

You and Jungkook head outside to make coffee. You’re one of the first ones awake even if you were both probably the last ones to fall asleep last night. It’s your last day here and you want to savor as much of the air and the tranquility as much as possible.

You sit next to him on the picnic bench and watch him pour hot water over the filter for the drip coffee, alternating between your cup and his. The scent is relaxing, so is the cool breeze. You shift your body to be parallel to the seat, and with your head on his shoulder, you stretch your legs and arms out to try to get a bit of sun.

“Wow, you got yourself a coffee maker and a makeshift lounge chair,” he huffs. “Let’s not forget a driver.”

“I’m photosynthesizing. You always tell me to get my vitamin D,” you explain. “And also, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll treat you to a really nice meal, I promise.”

“Why, what else do you need?”

“A ride to this event I need to attend in Cheonan. On Saturday. Please?”

You turn to him with your best attempt at puppy eyes.

“My car won’t be ready for another two weeks and I don’t wanna stress over how to get there since, uh, since I’m a panelist for a session. And it’s my first time to speak to a large audience about my research and I’m starting to freak about it and–”

“What! ___, of course I’ll drive you! That’s huge!” Jungkook exclaims.

You don’t miss his proud smile and the excitement in his eyes, and it somehow makes it all so real.

“Why aren’t we celebrating that this weekend, then?” He asks. “I wouldn’t have risked you getting attacked by bugs during the hike had I known.”

“Because I’m so nervous and talking about it makes me even more nervous,” you explained. “Mo-eum convinced me to not think about it this weekend because I’ve been stressing about it like crazy so I’ve just been trying to keep my mind off it to calm myself down.”

“And is it working?”

“Surprisingly, it has,” you nod. “I’ve had my talking points ready for a month now. I’ve been practicing for weeks. I had to be intentional in really switching off this weekend and it’s helped. It only entered my mind because the warehouse messaged me earlier about my car needing another few days in there so I’ve just been thinking about how to get to the venue after my field work in the morning.”

“Sure. I was just gonna stay at home and play games but a drive south isn’t bad,” he says. “I can stay around and drive you back home, too.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, relieved at not having to worry about your commute at night.

“Yeah. I mean, you did mention a really nice meal, so…”

“I did,” you laugh. “My session’s in the afternoon and I won’t stay long after. We can grab dinner on the way back.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Thanks, Kook. I would’ve asked Jimin but he’s got an important shoot and Mo-eum’s on duty,” you reason.

“Being a third option isn’t bad,” he chuckles. “So if you’ve been successful in keeping your mind off it, does it mean that’s not why you were so quiet last night? You barely spoke after the movie.”

“You mean when we were talking about failed relationships and possibly being single for the rest of our lives?” You laugh dryly.

“Well, it’s what twenty and thirty-somethings worry about. You were rambling about that in the car the other night,” he reminds you.

“True. Let’s just say when I’m around more experienced and mature people, I prefer to just listen and reflect,” you say.

“And what did you reflect on?”

“Just things I’ve already thought of before,” you shrug, somewhat ready to verbalize them now. “I get intense and excited when I have a new relationship and I overthink but at the same time, I don’t think at all. It’s nice and fun then I see something I don’t like then I just… get out of it. I think what got to me was what Suhyeon said about going into it blindly,” you continue.

“Like, we enter a relationship with someone we’re interested in because we want to get to know them but we don’t know if we’ll actually like the person we’ll get to know. Kind of tricky, right? I mean, do we date to get to know them, or do we date them because we already know them?”

“Does it even matter?” Jungkook asks. “We have to make the decision to stay if we want it enough either way.”

“Even if we don’t like certain things about them?”

“Depends on what you can tolerate. Or what you think you deserve,” he replies, his tone a little weary at the memories rushing in. “We don’t really know anyone well enough. A friend or a colleague or whatever becomes a different version of themselves when they become your lover and you have to deal with that, and then stick around or walk away.”

Jungkook’s face falls and you apologize for bringing it up, knowing it’s quite a touchy subject.

“We’ve talked about this before. It’s nothing new,” he assures you. “You don’t have to feel sorry. Joo-yun went from pursuing me one day to deciding she didn’t want me in her life the next, and then imposing some shitty deadline. And Si-an, well, you know how that went.”

You and Jungkook don’t have deep conversations that often. You tend to reserve your deepest thoughts and feelings for your best friends and he was never really the type to talk about his. He was with Joo-yun for the most part of university so you spent more time with the other guys. She was also the jealous type so you always found yourself being cautious around Jungkook when she was there.

But you remember when he opened up about the breakup, on the night of your graduation. You all slept over at the Kims’ residence and you, Jungkook, and Jimin stayed up until dawn, just talking about your shared pain over soju and beer.

Joo-yun wanted to go abroad and didn’t want to have a long distance relationship, so she told Jungkook they could only see each other until they graduated, which was three months away. He broke it off right then. It was in the same month when you broke it off with Jeong-su after your nth fight over your busy schedule.

Three years after that, you were saying goodbye to your shared apartment with Mo-eum and starting a new role at the research firm. Everyone was at your place to celebrate. It was when you casually said that you’d broken up with Seungho - the guy who worked at your building and that you pined for two weeks before you asked him out. It was also when Jungkook had drunkenly shared that he broke up with Si-an the night before because he caught her cheating on him. You let him stay over then drove him to his place the next morning. He never really talked about her after that.

Your mind drifts to those years. They feel so far away even if some of the thoughts and feelings from that time still linger. Breakups are never easy but somehow you always manage to get over them quite easily. You suppose it’s the insecurity and self-doubt that follows that you couldn’t really move on from.

“So on both times, did you break up with them because you knew what you deserved?” You ask Jungkook.

“Thinking back, I tolerated them longer than I should have,” he hums. “Joo-yun was a bit controlling at times and I always just justified her tendencies in my head. I think she wanted me to beg her not to leave or to take me with her but I didn’t. And that hurt her pride so she lashed out then I broke it off.”

“I always felt like she dimmed your shine,” you sigh. “You’d turn quiet and not be your bratty, fearless, dumb self. It was kinda sad.”

They’re terms of endearment you always use with the younger guys. Jungkook knows this, and he agrees. He also agrees with your observation because it was true. He couldn’t joke around or have fun around his friends when she was there. She dimmed his light like you said. No one ever really put it into words like that.

“And Si-an was just foolish,” you add. “I have so many other mean words for her so I’ll just shut up.”

So does he so he laughs in response.

“For the record, Jeong-su was too up in his ass and too lazy to make time for you, and Seungho rubbed me the wrong way,” Jungkook says now. “Not acknowledging waitstaff is a red flag to me.”

“I agree,” you smile, knowing that unlike Jimin and Taehyung who always had a field day shitting on your exes - and for good reason - Jungkook isn’t the type to say things like that unless he feels it intensely.

There’s a brief moment of both of you drifting away while sipping your coffee until the cabin door opens. Your three roommates exit and start bringing out fruits and cold cuts for snacks before your morning trip to the lake. Soon enough, the others gather around your table, too, and the somber mood from earlier immediately switches to something more lively and positive.

And you’re glad it does. You’re not used to seeing Jungkook dispirited or looking dejected over a memory and you try to erase that from your mind by taking a good look at him this time.

Donned in his black sweatpants, oversized shirt, and a bucket hat, sometimes you forget he’s a 28-year old man who does teaching for a living, only because anyone could easily mistake him for being one of the students. But that’s his charm, you learned over the years.

There’s something so relatable and wholesome about him. It’s in how he pokes your puffed cheeks full of watermelons and in how he chases a frog that’s hopping towards the other side.

Yet he’s also dependable and possesses this certain level of maturity. It’s in the way he prepared coffee then unfolded the camping chairs for the rest of your friends earlier. He’s pure-hearted even if he’s cheeky and playful, as he now asks you to collect stones with him so you could both make a tower and make a wish for your peace of mind and his students’ win and for the toxins to be removed from Jimin’s body so he could eat properly today.

You let that image of Jungkook linger because seeing your friends happy makes you happy, too. It’s what this trip is about, anyway, regardless of the thoughts that plague your mind.

You take the mid-morning drive to a lake to kayak. It’s the perfect day for it, as the skies are in a stunning shade of blue and the clouds look overwhelmingly soft and pure.

Hoseok and Yoongi, who aren’t fond of the water, sit out. The rest of you play rock-paper-scissors on who gets to ride solo and in pairs.

To Jungkook’s dismay, he ends up getting paired with you.

“We literally had a heartwarming conversation earlier and now you’re acting like your life is cursed because you’re riding a kayak with me,” you scowl at him.

“___, I might as well be rowing alone because you suck at it. And now I have to do it with more weight,” he complains.

“Yah!” You smack his arm. “I’m not that bad.”

“You barely made it past the dock the last time we did this,” he deadpans.

“And that was five years ago. People can always improve, you know?”

He deep sighs and frowns at you to the entertainment of your friends, and while you’re a little nervous of what mishap you’ll cause again, you also can’t wait to get in the water and maybe prove to him that you’re not that clueless about things like this.

Except you might actually just be, because not long after you get on the kayak and start paddling, it slowly tips over until it capsizes.

You panic for a moment but manage to get your head out of the water where you’re met with a frustrated Jungkook and a yell of your name. You’d say sorry if you could but you’re halfway through an apologetic smile and a restrained chuckle over how he looks but the latter wins. And you laugh.

“___, Kook!” Jimin, who was just about to get on his kayak, yells out from the dock. “What happened! Are you both okay?”

You turn around where the staff are telling you to swim back and the captain is requesting another boat.

You look back at Jungkook again with his damp hair and his baby boy pout and you try to hold your laughter in again but you just can’t. He looks so upset that it’s actually adorable. It helps keep your mind off the fact that you’re soaking wet and it feels incredibly uncomfortable.

But he finally cracks a smile and he playfully shakes his head before splashing water on your face with his hand.

“Why are you like this, ___?” He groans, but you can tell he’s not upset anymore, even with the way he pulls you by your life vest as you both swim back to dry land.

“I don’t even know what happened,” you exclaim. “Everything was so fast!”

“Your center of gravity was off,” Yoongi explains, as he stands on the edge, helping you up. “And you paddled right away before being stable and then… yeah. Hoseok caught it on video.”

“What!” You shriek, walking to your older friend, with Jungkook following.

Hoseok shows you the clip and even the man behind you can’t stop laughing. One second you were both there and the next, you just disappeared.

Jungkook feels uncomfortable in places but there’s not much he can do now. He just really wants to get back in the water and paddle out there.

You first insist that you’ll just stay behind. When Jimin encourages you to still go because you’ve been excited about this, you then say you’ll just do the individual one so Jungkook can, too, and he can catch up with the rest of your friends who, from a distance, are still laughing.

But like the good friend that he is, he says it’s fine, and that going together means you’ll both actually get somewhere. You just have to let him take control and do what he says. And sit properly.

So you follow his and the instructor’s orders. You keep yourself seated at the center and align your arms, making sure you have a good grip on the paddle and are following Jungkook’s counts. You know you’re not doing as well as he is but he still tells you that you’re doing fine. He’s good at instructing so you find a good rhythm, and soon enough, you catch up with your friends who tease you endlessly.

“It was still funny even from here,” Seokjin teases. “But are you okay? We know how much you hate being soaked in your clothes.”

“I’m dying inside,” you admit. “But yeah, I’m okay. I think Jungkook’s halfway there.��

“I’m good,” he assures you. “At least we get to see the view from here.”

He points towards his right where the scenery of the sun atop the mountains and against the clear skies is so beautiful. You’re definitely a long way from dry land but you feel so stable. It was definitely worth getting back on the kayak despite fearing another tragedy. Jungkook made sure you were okay and that you got to enjoy this, too.

Jimin takes pictures and you all explore some more. Once you’ve seen enough, you paddle back and your friends watch the video and chuckle in amusement. It’s another one of those that’ll come up in your group chat’s memory and you’ve already accepted that it’ll be a story they’ll share and bring up.

“You two get washed and dry up, okay?” Hayoung says. “They have a shower room here and I’ve got towels in the trunk. You can just buy some clothes at the shop right there.”

You follow your cousin’s advice and find the locker rooms. Mo-eum hands you a pair of shorts and a shirt she got from the store then heads out with you where Jimin offers you a cup of fresh juice. Standing by the car is Jungkook with a pair of shorts and the same crab shirt you’re wearing.

“Why’d they have to get us matching clothes?” He laughs as he enters the driver’s seat.

“They probably think it’s cute,” you shrug, taking your seat in the passenger side. “Or it could be a peace pact, I don’t know. I mean, you were getting angry at me earlier after all.”

“I wasn’t angry,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s like, I expected it but I was still surprised you made us fall over. Like, why does it always happen to you?”

“Well, God is fair. He gave me the brains but said, ‘let's also make her dumb.’”

This causes him to laugh.

Jungkook isn’t the type to voice things out but he truly finds you endearing. Even when you’re being clumsy, or asking him to do stuff, or making fun of him, or complaining about a hundred things at once, there’s something so genuine about you. You can get a little intense about things you’re passionate about, which he admires, but you’re also able to roll with the punches and find joy in things once you’ve calmed down.

He pats your head as his form of affection and you smile at him. He finds that endearing, too.

You all make your way back to the cabin to make some lunch. The resident cooks prepare black bean noodles and marinated ribs while the rest of you start packing up. It’s a breezy afternoon despite the sun, and it’s a perfect last meal in the mountains before you do the last thing on your itinerary.

It’s a short trip but you feel like you’ve done so much. It used to be like this during your university days when you’d just drive out to somewhere, do various things in town, soak up nature, and eat your hearts out. There have been changes, too, like preparing your own meals, no longer getting passed out drunk, and spending time just talking and reminiscing. Your respective jobs and other responsibilities don’t give you much time or space to enjoy being around people, and you’ve always found peace and comfort in each other.

It’s not a long drive to the pier where you’ll go on a yacht cruise. It’s a size that comfortably fits all 12 of you, and it’s a perfect last hurrah, as you all lounge by the deck and enjoy the wind and the changing skies. It’s mostly quiet by now, as everyone’s energy has slightly drained, especially with Monday right around the corner.

But it’s still peaceful, as you take in the fresh air and scent of the lake and the seagulls flying about. You let these last few hours be your reprieve, before another week rolls ahead and that panel discussion becomes your reality in a few days.

You watch until the last of the sun disappears, then it’s back to the car for a trip back home, and a dinner at a restaurant as your pitstop.

With your apartment being a 15-minute drive to Jungkook’s without traffic, he offers to take you home. He carries your bag and walks you to your door like the gentleman that he is and with your droopy eyes, he wishes you goodnight with a pat on your head.

“Get some rest, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

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pellucid-constellations · 8 months ago

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Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn’t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.”

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—”

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.”

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot.

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?”

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.”

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.”

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.”

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down.

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar.

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her.

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so.

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her.

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to.

You loved him from afar.

He loved you differently.

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing.

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.”

“Anything big?”

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.”

“Need me to come?”

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…”

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—”

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.”

“Are you sure?” he posed, the question twisting his brow.

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt.

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now.

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now.

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out.

Azriel breathed through a smile.

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap.

That sounded the same.

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for.

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?”

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.”

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?”

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.”

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears.

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little.

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.”

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.”

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.”

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—”

“Cassian.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain.

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth.

“No—”

“Yes.”

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.”

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat.

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.”

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room.

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie.

And you were an awful liar.

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment.

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings.

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.”

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually.

You needed the space.

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin.

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.”

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility.

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you.

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.”

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for.

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost.

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted.

“Yes,” you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.”

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian.

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak.

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.”

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily.

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain.

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again.

A different obstacle, for a different time.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel angst

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fandom-go-round · 2 years ago

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Realizing They're in Love: Reader x BG3

Warnings: Implied Internal Trauma, Personal Relationship Issues, Gross Stuff like Falling in Love

Astarion:

He argues with himself for a long time before love comes to mind. It’s bad enough that he’s starting to like you but love? That’s just going to make things even harder. Astarion feels like the more he tries to talk himself out of it, the worse it gets. You corner him after dinner one night and he smiles, turning up the charm. You ignore his nervousness, giving him a simple wooden box. He immediately fills with dread; you want something. Of course you do. He’s not expecting there to be a book inside, the next one in the series he’s reading. You assure him that you don’t want anything in return, giving him a gentle smile before heading to your own tent. His heart thunders in his chest, fingers trailing over the cover. He’s not in love, Astarion tells himself as he goes to start the book. He can’t be but… if he is, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. Not with you.

Gale:

He’s not against falling in love per say, Gale just isn’t looking. Honestly he’s not. This is more social interaction than he’s had in years and he’s not trying to fuck it up, thank you very much. That doesn’t mean he can’t forget himself, especially when you start asking him questions about magic. Gale loves magic most of all and he only realizes he’s been ranting after twenty minutes. He winces, scolding himself mentally and turns to you. You’re both sitting on the floor of his tent, sipping tea in the early afternoon. He fully anticipates that you’re going to half awake, bored to tears and doing something else. Instead, you’re staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright and small smile on your face. When he’s silent for too long you ask him to keep going, asking if he’ll keep explaining. Gale is more than happy to continue, something warm in his chest. He hopes that you’ll keep looking at him that way even after he stops talking. And you do.

Halsin:

Loud barks and hoots draw Halsin’s attention, the druid looking up from his papers. You’re a bit away from camp, Scratch and the owlbear cub playing with you. The three of you are chasing each other and wrestling, the cub slamming into the back of your knees. Halsin watches you go flying before laughing and grabbing the cub as best you can. You half swing him around, Scratch barking as you send his friend flying. The owlbear cub gives a roar, rolling through the grass and you laugh, chasing after the dog now. Halsin can’t help but smile; you’re so kind of everyone around you and he enjoys that you can relax. He hasn’t been ignorant to the feelings developing in his chest, just focusing on different things. The warmth he feels only grows as he watches you and he vows to talk about it. Halsin is sure he recognizes the looks you send him; he just needs to find the right time.

Karlach:

She realizes she’s in love after a tough fight. Her blood is still pumping and she wants more enemies to show up so she can have an excuse to go wild. You’re joking around with Wyll on the other side of the battlefield, the warlock turning to say something to you. You offer a smile and begin to hike up the slope and trip. Karlach watches in slow motion as you land hard on your ass, sliding down mud straight into the river. Wyll is frozen on the edge of the bank and she quickly makes he way over, worried that you’re injured. By the time she gets over there, you’re laughing loudly, head thrown all the way back. Her heart skips a beat; you’re covered in blood and mud and all sorts of gunk but all she can see is the right smile on your face. She’s in love.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t call it love. It’s admiration, respect for your skills. There are very few people she would follow verses leading herself and she admits that you’re good at it. She also enjoys the sex and that’s always a bonus. The sun is just beginning to go down and you stop on the edge of a cliff to watch. Lae’zel turns to scold you (the group needs to get back to camp) but she’s struck by your figure. You look like a painting, noble and steadfast. Your face is determined but not tense, taking in the sunset. There’s something in your eyes, something softer than she expects and it takes her breath away. She swears to herself and turns away, missing the affectionate look you send her. She’s doesn’t call it love, even if deep, deep down she wishes she could.

Shadowheart:

Night has finally fallen on a long, long day. Shadowheart is thankful that you’re the one with her on first watch tonight; your silence isn’t looming as she prays and the sound of sharpening blades is soothing. There isn’t the need to fill the silence with noise and it feels calm in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually she finds the night comfortable but cold, like an winter breeze. You’re like the night but warm, a balm on an open wound. She smiles as she watches you, not looking away when you meet her eyes. You smile and she’s filled with affection, even as her hand throbs. The pain is worth it; you make her feel truly seen.

Wyll:

You’re crouched by a small cave, voice low and arm outstretched. The group had just finished a fight, a camp overrun with bandits. Wyll scowled to himself, looking over the bodies strewed over the ground. The people had been innocent and he wished he had been faster. Movement catches the corner of his vision and he turns, watching as, slowly, a child comes out of the cave. They’re covered in dirt and blood but you smile and they take you hand. Wyll can’t the stop the soft look from coming onto his face as you begin the check for wounds. The world can be a dark place but you give him hope; it’s more than he deserves.

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purplereina11 · 1 month ago

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In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 14 Other Parts

Wordcount: 9.5k

Final 3k comes with a warning ⚠️🔞

The training ground felt quieter not empty, just… less vibrant. The internationals, including Alexia, had all left for camp. Their absence left a noticeable gap in the energy of the place, and in your chest too, though you didn’t show it.

You arrived at campus early, Teddy tugging on his lead beside you, happily sniffing at patches of grass outside the facility while you sipped your coffee. It was a comfort, having him there a little piece of normal, you greeted the security staff, a few physios, and the handful of players who were still around.

Ellie jogged up beside you, breath visible in the cool morning air, Jonny bounding behind her. “Teddy pulled you here again?” she teased, grinning.

You gave a small smile. “He’s the boss.”

Inside the training building, it was a slower morning. No buzz of media, no chaos of full-team sessions. Just five of you left, including a couple of the younger players.

You went through your session, focusing on touch work and small drills, pushing through the quiet with an intense kind of purpose. If nothing else, football gave you structure something to hold onto.

Afterwards, in the gym, you and Ellie stretched out next to each other.

"You okay?" she asked eventually, softly.

You didn’t answer right away, letting the silence sit for a second, then you nodded. "I think so. It’s easier when I’m busy."

Ellie offered you a bottle of water and nudged your knee gently with hers. “You’ve been a machine since the moment you landed here.”

“I don’t know what else to be.”

“Human?” she suggested, and you chuckled.

You glanced toward your phone on the bench, resisting the urge to check it wondering if Alexia had landed safely, if she’d sent a message, a big part of you missed her already, missed her grounding presence.

⚽️

Later, you sat in the lounge area of the campus, boots undone, watching Teddy nap beside you. The others were scattered, some in treatment, some lifting weights but you had a moment to yourself and that’s when your phone buzzed.

Alexia: Landed. Already miss you, Coco.

You smiled small, tired, but real.

You: Same. Just me, Ellie, and the dogs running Barça now.

Alexia: Then it’s in very good hands.

You stared at the message for a second, then typed out another one.

You: Come back soon.

A few seconds later, the typing dots appeared.

Alexia: I’ll come home.

Your phone began ringing you have expected it to be Alexia but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart did a little skip.

Sarina Wiegman

You sat up straighter, quickly brushing stray hair behind your ear before answering.

"Hello?"

“Hi, it’s Sarina,” she said, warm but straight to the point in the way only she could be. “How are you doing?”

You hesitated for a moment, not expecting such a simple question from her. “I’m… coping. Football’s helping.”

“I watched your debut,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “I was really impressed, not just with your performance, but your control, your form, your leadership. I wanted to call you personally.”

You felt your chest tighten slightly, like it suddenly became harder to breathe in a good way.

“There’s been an injury in camp,” she continued, “and we’d like to bring you in. I know it’s short notice and there’s no guarantee of minutes against Spain, but… we want you with us again.”

You blinked, absorbing her words. “Of course,” you said quietly, then stronger. “Yeah, absolutely. Thank you, Sarina.”

There was a pause on the line. “I know it’s been a hard time. We’re not bringing you in to add pressure, I just want you back in the fold on the run up to the Euros. We believe in you. Take it at your pace.”

That nearly undid you. “I’ll pack my things,” you replied, throat tightening as you tried to keep it together.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Travel details will be sent shortly. Safe journey.”

When the call ended, you just sat there for a second. Ellie wandered into the lounge with a banana in her hand, already chewing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she mumbled.

You shook your head, a smile forming slowly. “Sarina just called. I’m going to camp. Replacing an injury.”

Ellie blinked, then grinned wide. “You serious?”

You nodded.“No promises of minutes,” you added, still trying to process it all. “But she just… wants me there.”

Ellie tossed the banana on the counter and flung her arms around you, almost knocking you off balance. “You deserve this,” she said into your hair. “And I swear if you play against Spain and Alexia tries to mark you, I’ll be in the stands with popcorn.”

You laughed through the sudden burn in your eyes.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, it didn’t feel like you were just surviving anymore. You were still in it. You were still wanted and for now that was enough.

⚽️

The chill of English air clung to your coat as you stepped out of the car at St George’s Park, everything felt familiar yet foreign the long drive through the grounds, the crispness of the Midlands air, the low buzz of staff going about their routines. But this time, it was different. You weren’t just back at the national setup. You were walking in with grief stitched into your chest.

You barely had time to take it in before you heard it the unmistakable voice of Georgia Stanway.

“Oi! Look who finally decided to come home.”

You turned just in time for her to barrel into you, arms locking tight around your shoulders. She held on longer than usual, and you let her, burying your face into her hoodie for a second as you felt your lungs squeeze.

“I missed you,” she muttered, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry, mate.”

“Thanks, G,” you said thickly, pulling back with a watery smile. “Missed you too.”

From there, it was a chain reaction. One after another, the Lionesses made their way over. Leah was next, gentle and grounded as ever, her hug firm and steady. Lucy gave you a cheeky grin and a soft squeeze to the back of your neck, “Took long enough for you to get called back, superstar.”

Millie gave you a tight hug and a joking “We’ve been bored without you,” but you could see the compassion in her eyes.

Keira didn’t say much, just wrapped you in her arms and whispered, “Glad you’re here.”

You could feel it in the way they spoke to you their words carefully chosen, their energy warm but cautious. You appreciated that, you didn’t want a big scene, just their presence, their support and they gave it.

Even Sarina when you finally saw her, gave your shoulder a light squeeze, a flicker of softness breaking through her otherwise composed expression. “Welcome back,” she said. “Just take it day by day.”

As you set your bag down in your room later, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. This place, this team they weren’t just teammates, they were your people and today, that mattered more than ever.

Your heart warmed the moment you saw Alexia’s name flash across your screen returning your call quicker than you’d even expected. You stepped out of your room into the corridor for some quiet, and pressed the phone to your ear.

“¿Hola?” Her voice came through with a note of urgency, just enough to make you smile.

“Guess where I am,” you said, your voice playful.

There was a beat of silence, and then her hopeful smirk practically echoed down the line. “I’m hoping… naked in bed, because that’s an image.”

You burst out laughing, head tilting back against the wall. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

“You called me,” she replied lightly. “Don’t act surprised.”

You took a breath and softened. “No. I’m at St George’s Park.”

There was a pause not long, but long enough for you to imagine the wheels turning in her head. “England camp?”

“Yeah. Sarina called this morning. Someone got injured. No guarantees of minutes, but… she said she was impressed with my debut for Barca so wanted me back in the fold before the euro’s.”

Alexia’s voice lowered, tender. “Coco… that’s amazing.”

You nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Feels weird, coming back under all this, but it’s good. The girls have been unreal.”

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly. “And I’m glad they called you. You deserve this not just for how you play, but for getting up and showing up.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a little. “Thanks, Ale.”

“I wish I could hug you right now.”

“Me too.”

“Although,” she added, teasing, “if you were actually naked in bed that would have been a better start to the conversation.”

You chuckled again. “I’ll save that image for your next FaceTime.”

She groaned dramatically. “Don’t tease me” but then she sobered, her voice gentler again. “Go show them what you’re made of. I’ll be watching.”

“I know.”

“I’m free for that FaceTime now by the way”

You smirked, eyes narrowing slightly at the way Alexia’s tone shifted all honey and heat wrapped up in playfulness. “Oh, are you now?” you leaned back against the wall again, glancing down the empty hallway to make sure no one was coming. “I thought La Reina was busy with national team responsibilities.”

“I am,” she replied, and you could hear her grin through the phone. “But I figured I could take a short… strategic break.”

“Strategic?” you repeated, laughing softly. “That what we’re calling it now?”

“You’re the one who dangled the idea of a FaceTime from bed, Coco. I’m just following through.”

You chuckled under your breath, already biting your lip as you shook your head. “And here I thought you were worried something was wrong.”

“I was!” she protested. “But now that I know you’re okay and looking incredible in an England hoodie, I can shift my priorities accordingly.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You're impossible.”

“And yet,” she said, voice low and warm, “you called me first.”

“Because you’re my person.”

There was silence on the line for a moment the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket. “Still up for that FaceTime, by the way. I’d like to see you… even if you’re not in bed.”

You glanced back toward your room, a smile curling slowly on your lips. “Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she murmured, before hanging up.

And sure enough, when you opened the app two minutes later, there she was already smiling, eyes soft and tired and full of something that made your chest ache. Not La Reina. Not the captain. Just… her.

“You’re too cute coco”

You tried to hide the blush rising on your cheeks, but it was hopeless especially with the way Alexia was looking at you through the screen, that lazy, fond smile lighting up her whole face. “Don’t start,” you warned, lips twitching as you bit back a grin.

“What?” she said innocently, propping her chin in her hand, elbow resting somewhere out of view. “I can’t call my girlfriend cute now?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said. You said you’re cute. Like it was a discovery.”

Alexia laughed, soft and genuine. “Fine, then. Still cute.”

You shook your head. “You’re dangerous when you’re in a good mood.”

She leaned a little closer to the camera. “No. I’m dangerous when I’m in love.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you swore your heart skipped at least two. You blinked, then let out a quiet breath. “That a confession, Putellas?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe I just miss you already.”

You smiled, gaze softening. “I miss you too.”

“And you’ll crush it in camp,” she added, more serious now. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, but if you do get minutes against Spain…”

You grinned. “I’ll try not to nutmeg you.”

Alexia laughed, full and unfiltered. “Try. You won’t succeed.”

“We’ll see.”

There was a pause, just the two of you, quiet and wrapped in each other’s presence even from miles apart. Then Alexia whispered, “You really are cute, you know.”

This time, you let yourself blush. “Shut up” you laughed as she made herself laugh laying back on her bed going out of view, “It wasn’t that funny”

⚽️

The media room at St. George’s Park was buzzing. Cameras clicked into place, journalists leaned forward with recorders at the ready, and the hum of anticipation filled the space. You sat between Sarina and Leah, strategically placed by your captain and manager to protect you. you were trying to look calm even though your heart was beating a little faster than usual. It wasn’t your first time in front of press, but it was your first time back in an England camp since you were dropped due to no minutes and since everything had changed.

Sarina opened with some expected remarks. “We’re obviously disappointed to have had an injury in the squad, but we’re very pleased to welcome Y/N back into camp. She’s had a brilliant start at Barcelona and shown resilience and professionalism in very difficult circumstances.”

You nodded politely, eyes flicking to the front row where a few familiar media faces watched with interest. Leah leaned toward her mic. “It’s been really good to have her back. You’ve all seen what she can do on the pitch, but the way she’s carried herself personally? Honestly, it’s inspiring, she's made of strong stuff our Y/N and she's proving it that every day with what she's doing on and off the pitch”

You tried not to visibly swallow, that meant more than she probably knew then came the questions directed at you.

A journalist in the second row raised his hand. “Y/N, first of all our condolences on your loss. It’s incredible to see you here. Can I ask what it’s meant to you personally, being called back into the England fold?”

You took a breath, “Yeah, it means a lot. After everything, football’s been one of the few constants I’ve had, it's given me that outlet to leave whats happening away from football outside of the lines and just focus on whats going on between them. Being back here… it’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way. I’m grateful to Sarina, to the staff, to the girls. It’s felt like coming home, in a way and the support has been incredible.”

The next question came quickly. “There’s a lot of attention on your move to Barcelona and your debut certainly didn’t go unnoticed. How are you adjusting to life over there?”

You smiled slightly. “It’s been a whirlwind, but it’s an incredible club. The players, the staff, the fans… they’ve made it really easy to settle in. I’ve had support from some amazing people and players, which has helped, especially with everything going on off the pitch.”

Leah gave your knee a subtle nudge under the table giving silent support, without drawing focus. Another reporter raised a hand. “Sarina, could we see Y/N on the pitch against Spain?”

Sarina smiled. “We’re not making any decisions public yet, but she’s ready, and that’s all I’ll say. All the players are available”

There was a ripple of laughter, and the tone lightened for a moment, another question came from the back. “Y/N, there were rumours you had offers from clubs in England too. Was it a difficult decision to go to Spain?”

You nodded, thoughtful. “Of course. There’s a lot of quality in the WSL, and England’s home, but sometimes a decision isn’t just about football. It was the right move for me on every level and I don’t regret it.”

“Y/N, obviously Spain's squad is full of world-class talent, many of whom you’re now teammates with. Have you had much contact with them away from the pitch? And, if I may ask, what kind of captain has Alexia Putellas been for you personally, especially during your recent grief?”

You sat forward a little, heart picking up just slightly. You were well-practised with this sidestepping the personal while still answering the question. Alexia wasn’t just a captain to you, but very few people knew that. Not publicly. Not even all your England teammates.

You gave a small smile and kept your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve had a good amount of contact with some of the squad. A few of them have reached out since leaving for camp, checking in. It’s a special environment, there’s a real sense of unity at the club, and I’ve felt that straight away.” You glance across the room, keeping your tone light but sincere. “As for Alexia… she’s the kind of captain who leads by example. She doesn’t have to say a lot to make you feel supported, she's a steading presence around the club for sure. Whether it’s on the pitch or around training she makes sure you know you’re part of the team, that you’re seen.” You pause for a beat, the emotion threatening to edge too close. “And with what I’ve been going through personally… all of the girls, at Barça, here with England, and the girls from Bayern, have been incredible. So yeah, I’m really grateful for that.” You clear your throat as your voice wobbled, "It's been the hardest time in my life and" You nodded just the once, "I've needed all the support they've offered.”

Leah nodded beside you like she felt the weight of it. Sarina gave you a reassuring look she knew how careful your answer had been especially regarding Alexia. Another journalist started to raise a hand for the next question, but the echo of your words still hung warmly in the room.

You didn’t say “Alexia stayed with me every night for a week.”

You didn’t say “She held me while I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

You didn’t say “I’m in love with her.”

⚽️

Boots laced tight, shoulders squared, you stepped out of the England dressing room to bring up the rear of the line, the hum of the tunnel hit you immediately, camera crews shifting, match officials checking watches, and the thud-thud of adrenaline in your chest syncing with the bass of the stadium.

You saw her the second you lifted your head from sorting your jacket, Alexia was at the back of the Spanish line. Hands behind her back, shoulders held in that effortless calm she always carried, but her eyes, her eyes were already on you your feet hesitated, just for a beat.

She didn’t smile, she didn’t have to. The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, but her gaze stayed steady. The weight of shared things passed silently between you in that moment, grief, growth, quiet nights spent holding each other together.

You gave a tiny nod, letting your fingers twitch against your thigh, just enough for her to notice. She did, her fingers brushed her wrist like she was adjusting her imaginary bracelet, but you both knew what it was acknowledging your signal, like a soft I see you too.

Keira turned slightly ahead of you. “Alright?” she murmured, eyeing the way your eyes lingered.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, dragging your eyes forward. “Just focused.”

Alexia finally looked away, fixing her gaze on the pitch ahead, putting on the professional mask again, but that invisible tether between you both was still there tight as ever.

You were doing your best to stay composed, eyes forward, jaw set but Georgia turned in front of you, catching the subtle exchange.

With her usual smirk and just enough sass to make you blink in warning, she looked between you and Alexia before muttering under her breath, “No flirting at work please.”

Your eyes snapped to her, mouth parting in disbelief as you tried not to laugh. “I wasn’t—” you started, instantly defensive.

Georgia arched an eyebrow. “Mate, you were practically having a silent romance novel in the tunnel. I'm just trying to keep professionalism alive.”

You nudged her with your elbow. “You’re impossible.”

She just grinned wider, clearly proud of herself. "Not to mention she looks like she's mentally undressing you right now" Georgia muttered, barely keeping the laughter out of her voice.

You huffed a short laugh, tugging lightly at your collars as if trying to hide the heat crawling up your neck. “I haven’t even put out in weeks, it’s not fair.”

Georgia coughed out a laugh, then caught herself, straightening with mock seriousness. “Tragic. Truly tragic.”

You nudged her side with your elbow. “I've had other things on my mind.”

Georgia hummed, "I'm still judging, no reason you shouldn't be hoping on that every chance you get" Georgia leaned even closer this time, voice hushed. “You know she’s listening to every word of this, right?”

You blinked, glancing sideways sure enough, Alexia was standing very still, trying very hard to look forward but her ears visibly pink, her jaw tightening like she was fighting a smirk. "With your accent doubt she's caught a word"

Georgia grinned, triumphant. “Girl is thirsty, babe. Put her out of her misery.”

You snorted, hand coming up to your face to scratch it in an attempt to hide your smile when Leah looked down the line. “You are not helping.” You muttered to Georgia

“Oh, I’m not here to help,” Georgia said, casually rocking on her heels. “I’m here for the show.”

Alexia hadn’t heard, or at least didn’t react, she was focused, totally poised, but as you walk beside her on the way onto the pitch, just for a second, her hand brushed yours ever so slightly a finger coming out to run along yours, barely noticeable but definitely deliberate and Georgia was definitely going to bring it up again later because she of course saw.

⚽️

You were already exhausted as the second half was ticking on legs burning, lungs aching but you dug deep again, surging forward down the right. The space opened up and you shifted into top gear, brushing past the defender like she wasn’t even there. It was one of those runs that made the crowd rise, the kind that made your blood roar.

You felt something clip your ankle not a stray leg or a mistimed tackle, but deliberate. Your body pitched forward and you hit the turf hard, grass and dirt scraping your palms and knees. The whistle didn’t even matter in that moment your instinct had already kicked in.

You popped right back up, fury simmering just beneath your skin, and turned sharply toward the sideline. Montse Tomé stood there, just barely back in her technical area, arms folded as if she hadn’t just tripped you in front of thousands.

You were up in an instant, white-hot rage burning through the fatigue, “Are you fucking kidding me?” you shouted, storming toward the sideline, fists clenched. “You think you can get away with that shit?! You’re not even on the pitch!” The England bench saw it unfolding a second too late, coaches, subs, physios they scrambled to intercept you as you charged.

“She fucking tripped me!” you yelled, pointing violently toward Montse as Georgia and Lucy grabbed at your arms. “What kind of coach does that?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! No need your fucking winning already!”

“Y/N!” came Sarina’s sharp voice, cutting through the chaos, but you didn’t stop.

“Touch me again and I swear I’ll put you on your arse!” you bellowed, fury twisting your face as Alex Greenwood threw herself between you and the Spanish manager, arms braced against your chest, grounding you. “She’s a fucking coward! That’s a red card!”

Montse stood still, smug, unmoved, as the fourth official frantically tried to settle things down. “Get her out of here!” one of the England coaches shouted, as a stream of Spanish came from their bench added to the madness.

“You think just because you're the coach you get to put hands on a player?” you kept going, even as you were dragged back a few steps. “You messed with the wrong fucking one today!”

The referee arrived just as the England staff managed to start pulling you away, her whistle blowing sharp and short red card up for Montse.

The crowd erupted in boos and gasps, the cameras catching every second. You were still fuming, chest heaving, heart hammering against your ribs as Sarina stepped into your line of sight.

“Breathe,” she said calmly, her hand on your shoulder. “I saw it. The ref saw it. Everyone saw it, but you need to let us handle it now.”

Your jaw was clenched tight, the red mist only just beginning to lift. You gave a single, curt nod, your entire body trembling with leftover adrenaline. Alexia stood in the centre of the pitch, unmoving her eyes hadn’t left you once.

You stormed into the huddle in-front of the English bench like a storm cloud breaking open, boots thudding against the grass. Leah had one eye on the ref and one on you, raising both hands in a silent plea for calm as you approached.

You just shook your head, jaw clenched. “I’m fucking fuming,” you spat, the heat still radiating off you like a furnace. “She tripped me. Like what the actual—”

“I know,” Lucy said, firm but gentle, stepping slightly in front of you as a buffer. “We all saw it.”

“Ref gave her the red,” Georgia added, eyes darting toward where Montse was being ushered down the tunnel by security. “Let it go now. We’ve got twenty minutes left. We need you.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, like you were trying to swallow fire. “She’s a fucking disgrace.”

“She is,” Leah agreed quietly. “And the world just saw it. Now put that energy into the game.”

Your hands were still trembling at your sides, but the way the girls stood around you close, protective helped anchor you back into the moment.

Across the pitch, Alexia was still watching, not with fear, bot with judgment, with something closer to awe, like she'd never seen someone defend themselves like that before. Like maybe she hadn’t realised just how much fire lived inside you.

Back in the huddle, Sarina had her hands on her hips, looking between you all. “We play smarter now,” she said. “They’ve lost their head coach, you don’t lose yours. You’ve got fifteen, maybe twenty minutes left. Win it.”

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt and nodded. “Let’s fucking go.”

⚽️

You walked slowly, clapping toward the England supporters who had travelled, their voices unwavering even in defeat, some of them still sang your name. A few banners with your number were held high. It stung, the loss, especially in a game like that close, messy, personal.

You felt a hand press lightly to your back, Leah didn’t say anything, just kept pace beside you, clapping too.

“To be fair,” Georgia murmured from your other side, “you looked like a menace the whole game. Nearly broke the sound barrier down that wing.”

You huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Didn’t matter, though, did it.”

“It will,” she said simply.

You were always good at hiding your feelings under humour or silence, but this loss, after everything burned deeper, your first international game your mum wasn’t there for and you lost.

The post-match chaos slowly gave way to small pockets of quiet. Players swapped shirts, fans waved from the stands, cameras hovered but you barely noticed any of it. You’d caught Alexia’s eyes across the pitch again, and without really thinking, your feet took you toward her.

She met you halfway, her ponytail slightly frayed, sweat still glistening at her temples, but her expression was warm.

She stepped forward as you stopped, not enough to draw attention from anyone else, but enough that your feet touched.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft beneath the ambient noise of the stadium.

“Hey,” you echoed, your voice still hoarse from the shouting, from the frustration, from everything.

Her eyes searched yours for a moment not scanning for answers, but checking in, grounding you. “You alright?” she asked.

You nodded with a soft sigh. “Tired, frustrated, but I’m alright.”

She gave a small smile and lifted her hand gently. Her thumb brushed something off your cheek, dirt, sweat, maybe a tiny smear of black from your under-eye but the touch lingered for a second too long. To anyone watching, it was a simple gesture, but to those paying attention, it was more, the softness in her touch, the way her eyes didn’t leave yours, the intimate silence shared between you amidst the noise.

From the sidelines, a few whispers started journalists noting the quiet exchange, a few teammates casting looks that said are we seeing what we think we’re seeing?

“You were incredible,” she said under her breath, just for you.

You shook your head, eyes fixed ahead. “Didn’t win.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, and when you glanced sideways, her eyes were soft. “I’m proud of you.”

You swallowed, feeling something twist in your chest. “I’ll take that, capitana.”

Alexia smiled faintly, brushing her fingers against yours before the moment passed.

Georgia gave a low whistle from behind you, not loud enough for the media to catch, but definitely enough to be heard. Alexia smirked faintly at that and leaned just a little closer, dropping her hand.

“You’ve got people talking,” you murmured, eyes still locked with hers.

“They’ve been talking since you got here,” she replied just as softly. “Let them.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not subtle anymore, are we?”

Alexia tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m tired of hiding things that make me happy.”

The weight of those words settled into your chest. You couldn’t find your voice right away so instead, you just smiled, nudged her foot with yours, and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t get sent off.”

She laughed quietly. “You’re lucky I didn’t punch Montse myself.”

You and Alexia lingered just a little longer than necessary at the centre of the pitch, half-heartedly kicking at the grass beneath your boots, hands brushing occasionally but never quite holding. The crowd had thinned, cameras moved on to their next target, but the pull between you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“You always this flirty after a win?” you teased, nudging her with your elbow.

Alexia smirked, slow and smug. “Only when the person I’m flirting with plays like that. Shame the ref couldn’t give you a goal for pure rage and speed.”

“Montse’s lucky I didn’t go full WWE,” you muttered.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “You were about five seconds from doing it.”

“I still might. Depends if she looks at me wrong on the way to the tunnel.”

Alexia gave a quiet laugh and stepped a little closer, her voice dropping. “Maybe don’t get suspended just yet. We’ve only just started this thing.”

You blinked, and your mouth parted to respond but footsteps approached fast behind you. “Oi, save it for later, yeah?” Georgia’s voice interrupted as she strolled over, sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, eyes twinkling with mischief. Keira was beside her, less chaotic but just as curious, arms folded loosely over her chest.

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t have one moment.”

Georgia ignored you. “Just came to say you did good. And also” She turned to Alexia, smirking. “please stop undressing our girl with your eyes in front of everyone.”

Alexia laughed under her breath, but didn’t step back. Keira squinted between you both, her brow creasing slightly. Then she tilted her head. “Wait.”You tried to keep your face neutral, but Georgia was already grinning. Keira pointed between you two like she was solving a murder mystery. “No way. No, hang on. This—this isn’t just flirty banter, is it?”

Georgia folded her arms smugly. “Took you long enough.”

Keira looked at you. “Are you—? Are you dating?”

You opened your mouth. Alexia beat you to it. “You’ve not been telling people?,” she said smoothly, tugging gently at the hem of your England top, eyes twinkling. “Impressive, i’ve been telling anyone who will listen about you.”

You flushed and Keira blinked, jaw dropping just a little. “Oh my God,” Keira said. “You’re dating Alexia?!”

Georgia patted her shoulder like she’d just cracked a world-class code. “Congratulations, detective.”

Alexia winked at you, you smiled sheepishly, cheeks warm. Keira laughed, still a little stunned. “Well damn.”

Georgia gave you a gentle nudge. “You two better not break up. I’ve invested feelings.”

You groaned as they both wandered off, already gossiping. Alexia reached for your hand briefly and squeezed it. “Still want to keep it quiet?”

You looked after Georgia and Keira. “Honestly?” you said. “I wasn’t trying to keep it quiet, i just, wasn’t telling people and now i don’t think i have a choice anymore”

Alexia smiled, eyes soft. “Good.”

⚽️

The sun was long gone, the buzz of the stadium replaced by the stillness of Alexia’s home her scent already curling into your clothes, your dog asleep near the edge of the sofa where you sat, wearing an old hoodie she’d tossed to you as you came in complaining you were cold.

“I won’t be long,” Alexia had said, pressing a kiss to your lips before disappearing upstairs, the sound of the water soon echoing softly through the quiet home.

You sat there, legs curled beneath you, picking absently at the edge of your sleeve. The match was still rattling in your chest, the sprint, the fury, the sharp twist of your ankle when Montse sent you flying. But more than anything, it was the moments after the final whistle that had stuck, her touch, her eyes, her voice softened with worry even when she smiled.

And then Georgia’s voice popped into your head. Put her out her misery, girl is thirsty.

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes, but the sound of the shower hadn’t stopped just yet. You headed up stairs and found the door was still slightly ajar that casual way Alexia always left it when she wasn’t expecting company… and yet maybe, just maybe, she was.

You hesitated, biting your lip and padded softly into the bathroom which was steamed up, the mirror fogged, and the glass door of the shower slightly misted over. Through the blur, you saw the silhouette of Alexia’s back to the door, head tilted beneath the stream, hair dark and wet down her back.

You swallowed as you undressed yourself and opened the door stepping inside as Alexia looked over her shoulder, closing it behind you.

Her mouth twitched. “You alright?”

You nodded, letting the warm mist kiss your skin. “I just remembered something Georgia said…”

“Oh?” Alexia turned, droplets rolling down the curves of her body, steam rising between you.

You reached for her gently, fingertips trailing the edge of her jaw. “We were gossiping” Alexia just smiled as her hands slid over your hips, “I then realised it was sometime since i saw you naked”

Alexia laughed, breath catching slightly as your palm found her hip. “So that’s why you’re here”

“Well,” you smiled, stepping closer into the heat, “you did say you weren’t going to be long. So i thought maybe we could save time and shower together, i’ll wash your back if you wash mine”

Her eyes darkened but there was so much softness there too, all the weight of the match, the loss, the months of hidden moments, aching hearts and missed chance

“Come here,” she murmured, your arms coming around her neck, and in the mist there was nothing but the sound of running water and quiet laughter between kisses.

The steam curled around you both, softening every edge. Alexia’s touch was gentle at first fingertips tracing the curve of your back, your waist, the hollow at the base of your neck. You leaned into her, noses brushing, mouths meeting in a kiss that deepened quickly, all slow heat and weeks of held-back want slipping free.

The water cascaded over you as she pressed you gently against the cool tiles, your hands gripping her hips, hers tangled in your damp hair. The mix of warmth from the water, from her body, from the look in her eyes made your knees feel unsteady, your heart pounding against your chest.

“Still want to help me finish my shower? I have another idea” she whispered against your lips. You laughed softly, but it melted into a sharp breath as her mouth moved lower, along your throat, across your collarbone. Words gave way to touches, to the quiet stutter of breath, to fingers curling and the wet slide of skin on skin. There was nothing hurried only knowing, tender pressure and unspoken understanding, like you’d both been waiting for exactly this kind of peace.

Her teeth grazed your hip on her way to your thighs, you would come undone the moment you looked down at her on her knees in-front of you so you didn’t look. Your head went back as her hand caressed your leg, “Open your legs” she mumbled,

Your hands found their way to her hair, guiding her as she explored you with a hunger that made your knees wobble. Each touch of her tongue sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, making you gasp for air. You felt her smile against your skin, the warmth of it spreading through your core like molten lava. The scent of her soap mingled with the heady aroma of arousal, creating a potent perfume that attached to your senses.

The water glided over both of you, tracing the lines of her shoulders and back as she moved closer, her breasts pressing against your thighs. You could feel her heart beating, matching the tempo of your own pulse. The warmth of her breath on your most intimate parts sent shivers through your body, making you quiver with anticipation. Her teeth grazed your inner thigh, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out too loudly.

Her hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as her mouth worked its magic. The sensation of her tongue swirling around your clit was exquisite, a dance of pleasure that made you want to arch into her touch. You felt yourself growing wetter, the heat between your legs a testament to the fire she was building inside you.

Her eyes looked up at you, a silent question in their depths. You nodded, the only answer she needed. She slid a finger inside you, the sensation of her digit joining the warmth of the water made you moan. You could feel yourself stretching around her, welcoming the intrusion, eager for more, a rhythm that had your hips bucking. Your hand tightened in her hair, guiding her, urging her to go deeper, faster, harder.

The water streamed down her face, mixing with the slickness of your desire. Her eyes never left yours as she pleasured you, the intensity of her gaze as powerful as her touch. You felt your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that grew with each stroke of her tongue, each pulse of her finger. Your breaths grew ragged, your body tightening as you approached the edge.

The tiles grew slippery underfoot, but she remained steadfast, her grip on your hip unyielding. Her mouth was a warm, wet heaven, her tongue painting patterns that no artist could replicate. You could feel the muscles in your thighs quivering as you approached the peak of ecstasy. The water continued to cascade over the two of you, a gentle caress that seemed to amplify each sensation.

Her finger curled inside you, finding that perfect spot, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You gripped her hair tighter, pulling her closer as you whispered, “Oh, god, yes, right there,” your voice echoing slightly off the tiles. She responded with a hum of approval, the vibrations adding a new layer to the symphony of sensations. Her teeth grazed your clit, and you moaned, the sound music to Alexia’s ears.

The moment your climax hit, it was like a dam had broken. Your legs gave out, but she was there, supporting you, her mouth never leaving your sensitive flesh. You convulsed with pleasure, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you like the waves of a stormy sea. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched you fall apart, her tongue still working you through the aftershocks.

As your breathing began to even out, she stood, her body pressing against yours as the water continued to rain down. You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss, tasting yourself on her lips. Her hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your skin as if it was the first time she’d ever felt it. The heat between you was unbearable, the shower doing little to cool the fire she had stoked.

Your kiss grew more urgent, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in a silent symphony of need. You reached for the soap, your hands shaking slightly, and began to lather it over her neck, shoulders, arms. The feel of the bubbles popping against your fingertips was a stark contrast to the slickness of her skin. She moaned into your mouth as your soapy hands slid over her back, the scent of the soap mixing with the scent of your shared arousal.

With a gentle push, you turned her around, her back now towards you. Your hands roamed over her, soaping her up, each touch leaving trails of bubbles that only served to make her skin more tantalising. Her breath hitched as you reached around to cup her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples in a rhythm that made her hips push back against you.

You couldn’t resist the urge to kiss down her spine, feeling her shiver as your lips traced the path of her vertebrae. You kissed lower, reaching the base of her spine, your tongue teasing the sensitive spot that made her legs tremble.

Her legs parted willingly, you took a moment to breathe her in, the scent of her arousal mixing with the sweetness of the soap. With a gentle touch, you traced the line of her thigh, feeling the muscles tense in anticipation. You kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of her skin, moving closer to the apex of her legs. She whispered your name, her voice a shiver of need that sent a thrill through you.

With a smirk, you slid a hand between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for you. You slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, her head dropping forward as you began to move in time with the pulsating beat of your heart.

Her hand reached behind her, finding your neck, and she pulled you back up closer, your bodies melding together in a dance of passion. You felt her tighten around your finger, and you knew she was close. You added another, curling them up to hit that perfect spot, making her legs quiver. The sound of her moans grew louder, echoing in the shower, mixing with the water’s patter.

You leaned back, watching her face contort with pleasure, the droplets of water running down her cheeks like tears of joy. Her eyes met yours, a silent plea for more, and you gave it to her, your hand moving faster, your mouth finding hers in a kiss that was just as desperate. Her orgasm hit her like a storm, her body convulsing, her hand smacking the tiles in front of her to steady herself. You held her up, your arm wrapped around her waist, feeling the aftershocks of her climax ripple through her body and onto your fingers.

When she was finished, she turned in your arms, her legs unsteady but her eyes alight with satisfaction. She kissed you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with a new urgency. The soap was forgotten, the water growing colder, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the heat between you, the connection that had only grown stronger with every shared touch.

You reached for the shampoo, the bubbles sliding down your arms as you poured it over her hair, watching the suds cascade over her shoulders. As you began to massage her scalp, she let out a contented sigh, her eyes closing as she leaned into your touch.

The tension in the air had shifted, the urgency of earlier replaced by a tender intimacy that was just as potent. You washed her hair with care, the scent of the shampoo mixing with the scent of your love. Her hands found yours, her fingers weaving through the bubbles, and for a moment, you just stood there, holding each other, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion.

The water grew colder, the steam dissipating, but the warmth between you remained. You rinsed her hair, the water running over your hands in a clear stream, taking the last of the soap with it. She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with yours, and you knew that even as the water grew cold, the fire between you was still burning bright.

Turning her around, you kissed her neck, your teeth grazing the soft skin beneath her ear. She shivered, her head tilting back to give you better access, a silent invitation for more. Your hands roamed over her body, feeling the curves and angles that you had come to know so well.

Her hand slipped between your thighs, her touch feather-light as she found your clit again, now swollen and begging for attention. You gasped, your body tightening around her, the sensation of her touch sending sparks through your veins. She began to stroke you, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours, watching as you succumbed to pleasure once more.

The cold water was forgotten as the heat grew between you, your bodies moving in a silent dance of need. Your hips rocked against her hand, your breaths mingling in the space between your mouths. You could feel the tension building, the anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach, threatening to unravel at any moment.

Her other hand slid around your waist, her fingers digging into your hip as she held you against the tiles. You wrapped your leg around her, your movements growing more desperate. Her strokes grew faster, more insistent, and you could feel yourself racing towards the edge again.

You reached up to tug at her arm, pulling her closer, your mouth finding hers in a kiss that was as desperate as it was gentle. Your teeth nipped at her lower lip, and she responded with a groan, her hand moving faster, her fingers pressing harder. The sound of the shower was a white noise backdrop to your shared moans.

The orgasm crashed over you, a tidal wave that left you gasping for breath. You clung to her, your body spasming with pleasure as she held you upright. She kissed you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth as if she could taste your release. You felt the warmth of her hand on your cheek, wiping away the stray droplets of water that clung to your skin.

When the tremors finally subsided, you leaned into her, your forehead against hers. The water grew colder still, but you didn’t move, didn’t want to break the spell that had been cast in this small, steamy chamber. Her hand remained between your legs, the gentle pressure of her fingers keeping you on edge, the aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through you.

With a final kiss, you pulled back, you turned off the faucet, the sudden silence deafening in comparison to the cocoon of sound you’d been in. Reaching for a towel, you stepped out, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth you’d been basking in. She followed, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent promise that this was only the beginning.

The bathroom floor was cold underfoot, but the warmth of the towel wrapped around you was a comfort. You dried her off, taking your time, each stroke a gentle caress that spoke volumes. She did the same to you, her touch lingering on your skin, as if memorising every inch.

She wrapped her arms around you, her body warm and welcoming, and together you stepped out into the hallway, the steam from the shower the only evidence of the heat that had just passed.

“On the bed” she murmured into your ear as she came up behind you holding her hips, “Loose this too” she tugged at the towel wrapped around you, it pooled at your feet as you turned to her.

You wanted to be the one in control however “Lie down” you tilted your head as you unfolded the towel from around her, “Don’t make me tell you again” Alexia smirked, “You’re infuriating.”

Alexia moved around you perched on the edge of the bed and leaned back on her hands, taking you all in, “You’re so sexy” You took a moment to appreciate the art that was her, she reached up, her hand tracing your jaw, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fervour of moments before.

“I’ll put clothes on if you don’t lie down”

Alexia couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she pulled her self up to rest her head on the pillow, the bed was cold but you didn’t care, the warmth of her body was more than enough.

Her legs parted for you, an invitation that made your pulse quicken. You knelt between her thighs, your eyes devouring the sight before you. She was wet, not just from the shower, but from desire. The scent of your combined arousal was intoxicating. You leaned in, your breath hot against her skin, and kissed her inner thigh, feeling her shiver.

Her hips arched as you kissed closer to her centre, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. You felt the warmth of her, the slickness of her arousal, and you couldn’t wait to taste her. Your tongue flicked out, a soft touch that made her moan. You explored her with gentle strokes, the sound of her pleasure music to your ears. Her hands found yours, lacing her fingers with yours, her grip tightening as you found her clit, swollen and eager for attention.

You took your time, savouring each gasp and tremor that passed through her body. Your tongue danced around the sensitive bud, teasing it before finally giving it the attention it craved. She bucked her hips, pushing herself closer to your mouth, her breathing ragged. You got comfy between her legs because you planned on being here for a while, giving her all the pleasure you felt you should have been all these weeks.

You took her in, exploring every fold, every curve, with a hunger that surprised even you. Your tongue, flicking and teasing until she was whimpering, her hips bucking against your face. You felt the tension in her thighs, the tightness of her grip on your hand, and knew she was close. With a deep, satisfied groan, you sucked her clit into your mouth, your tongue flicking it rapidly. Her body arched, her hand tightening in your hair, and she came, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave the first of many you had planned for her.

⚽️

You were tangled in the sheets, legs brushing, skin still warm from the shower, hair damp and curling against your temples. The bedroom was quiet, low-lit by the soft city haze filtering through the curtains. Alexia lay on her side, her hand tracing slow, thoughtless patterns on your stomach.

“Wasn’t planning on doing that tonight,” she murmured, a lazy smile curling on her lips.

You turned your head on the pillow to look at her. “What, showering?”

She gave you a soft look, then rolled her eyes with a grin. “No, tonta. You joining me in it and the events following.”

You smirked, reaching to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You looked like you needed company and motivation.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be that motivating,” she teased, lifting herself up slightly to kiss your bare shoulder. “You always surprise me.”

You exhaled slowly, letting the comfort of the moment sink in. “Is that good or bad?”

Alexia’s eyes met yours, serious now. “It’s good. You make everything feel… I don’t know. Lighter. Easier.”

You watched her hand rest just over your ribs, thumb pressing gently into your side, grounding herself in you. “Even now?” you asked quietly.

“Especially now.” She paused. “You’ve been through something I can’t imagine, and you still found your way back to the pitch, to me. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t either,” you admitted, voice softer than before. “I think I’m just moving. If I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”

She nodded slowly, brushing her nose against yours. “Then I’ll keep walking next to you, until you’re ready to stop.”

You smiled faintly, heart tugging at how sincere she sounded. “You’re too good to me.”

“No,” she said, firm. “I’m exactly what you deserve.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable it felt heavy with safety. You traced her forearm with your fingers. “You ever think about the future? Not just with football.”

Alexia’s lips twitched into a playful smile. “What, like kids, a dog and a villa by the sea?”

“I meant like... this. Us. If there’s an ‘us’.”

She leaned closer, kissed the corner of your mouth. “There is. And I think about it all the time.” You swallowed, the weight of her words settling somewhere warm in your chest. “I told you and I meant it, I could marry you,” she whispered suddenly, the tease in her voice not quite covering the truth behind it. “If you keep motivating me like that… I’d marry you tomorrow.”

You laughed softly, but your heart was doing things it hadn’t done in a long time. “You better be careful with promises like that.”

Alexia pulled you in, burying her face into your neck, her voice muffled but certain. “Coco,” she murmured, “I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep.”

You lay there wrapped in her arms, the world quiet for once your grief softened, not gone, but lighter knowing that if nothing else, she wasn’t going anywhere. She shifted slightly beneath you, and you lowered your head just enough to meet her eyes. “What?” you asked softly, noticing how she was looking at you.

She blinked, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No, don’t do that. You’ve got something written all over your face.”

Alexia gave a quiet laugh, almost shy, which was rare for her. “I was just thinking... how stupid it is that I’ve wanted to say something for a while and haven’t just said it without making it a joke.”

You straightened a little, propped yourself up on your elbow, watching her closely now. “Say it then.”

She hesitated not because she was unsure of what she felt, but because she wanted to say it right and then, in true Alexia fashion, she just told you the truth. “I love you.”

You blinked. The room didn’t shift, the sky didn’t fall, but your whole chest tightened all at once, like everything inside you had been waiting to hear those words and finally, finally could exhale.

She sat up a bit, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I think I knew for a while, but I didn’t want to say it too soon or scare you or make it… I don’t know, a bigger thing when everything else in your life has already been so heavy.”

You were quiet. Not because you didn’t know what to say but because you felt it too. “I love you too,” you said, voice small but firm. “You haven’t scared me off, Alexia. You’ve kept me standing, I wouldn't of gotten through everything with out you”

She let out a breath, like she’d been holding it forever, and pulled you into her arms without a word, kissing your temple, your forehead, then your lips soft, slow, and full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

You nodded against her, closing your eyes. “I know.” you smiled, "Not when I can make you come like that" Alexia threw her head back laughing.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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anyamaris · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Bedtime Secrets

Summary: When you stay over at your friends last minute, you thought San was away, staying in his room. You didn't expect him to come home and find you in his bed.

Pairing: Choi San x F!reader

Word Count: 2023

Rating: 18+ M

Trope: Friends to lovers, non idol au, smut

Warnings: THIS IS NONCON-YOUVE BEEN WARNED. DO NOT READ IF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS-Somnophilia, NONCON(again), vulgar language, backshot, yes the reader is into it at the end but still NONCON. obvs minors dni 18+

A/N: This is for my lovely @sanjoongie because she's so amazing and wrote JK Star Wars for me 💜I've been wanting to write this for awhile anyhow so I finally did it. Also, I don't know if it needs to be said but I in no way condone noncon outside of our fictional controlled environments and all that, and I want to make sure everyone knows that this isn't for everyone. It's for my Topaz and anyone else who enjoys it. That is all. Thank you to @pars-ley for the GORGEOUS banner and partial beta read, I'm sorry I always cut it off on you!

As always @cafekitsune for the dividers!!!

When you had a last minute emergency at your apartment, Wooyoung had allowed you to come stay over at him and San’s place.

It was always an unspoken courtesy that you could stay in one of their rooms if ever needed when one of them was away for an evening, allowing you privacy and comfort.

So when you settled in for the night in San’s room, Wooyoung had assured you that San was away for the next week and you didn’t think twice about stripping down to your panties and a tank top to sleep due to the heat.

What you didn’t expect was that San’s work trip had been cut short.

It’s after 2am when the door to the apartment is unlocked and San makes his way inside, not bothering to turn on the lights.

He kicks off his shoes and yawns as he plods over to his room.

He hesitates a moment at the closed door, remembering that he’d left it open.

Figuring Wooyoung must have closed it for some reason, he merely shrugs and pushes it open, dumping his bag to the side before tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it into the hamper, his pants joining shortly after.

The moonlight illuminates the room as he rubs his eyes and walks to the bed, hoisting the covers up before he freezes in shock.

The very last thing he’s expecting in his bed is you; half naked, your back to him, your cute little ass cheeks peeking out at him.

“What the-” He mutters before he can stop himself and you let out a little noise as you adjust in your sleep.

He bites his lip as his gaze rakes over your unconscious form, how your thigh moves up and gives him a peek of your clothed crotch, your bare arm clinging to his pillow, your face calm and serene in your slumber.

He groans as his cock stirs, chastising himself for getting aroused at your sleeping form.

“Fuck…” He mumbles, contemplating what to do.

Your friendship is close enough that he is fully aware that you wouldn’t be upset if he slept next to you; no, that’s not the issue at all.

San is fully aware that slipping in next to you isn’t the only thing he wants to do right now.

He momentarily thinks about grabbing a pillow and camping out on the couch for the night, but as he reaches to do so, you murmur something unintelligible in your sleep and turn slightly towards him.

A hiss leaves his lips as he notices the outline of your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top and he can’t stop himself from changing course and slipping under the covers next to you.

Internally cursing at himself, he ignores the protests he’s making against what he’s about to do.

As he scoots closer to you, he inhales and groans at the unique scent of shampoo and vanilla that is you.

He tugs the covers down gently, his breath hitching as he takes in the curve of your spine and the way your tank top clings to your tits, making his hands itch to touch you.

Choi San, don’t you do this…he thinks yet his hand betrays him, reaching out to brush your hair back from your neck as he slips closer to you.

He’s always been attracted to you, and this is the best and worst temptation of his life, laid out before him.

His fingers trace the line of your neck down to your shoulder, concentrating on your face as he tests if it’s going to wake you.

When you don’t even stir from the simple touch, he slowly places his hand on your waist, pausing and waiting.

The heat from your body beckons him, and his dick tents his boxers, a wet stain already forming from his leaking tip.

“Fuck.” He whispers, sliding his hand down the curve of your waist up your hip, savoring every inch of skin before he rests his palm on your ass cheek.

“Mmm..” You murmur in your sleep, causing him to freeze as you adjust, scooting back a few inches towards him.

He lets out a choked moan as your ass pushes firmly into his hand, his rigid length bumping into your tailbone.

It takes everything in him to not rut against you, aware that any sudden jostling might wake you and he can’t have that right now.

Right now, he needs to explore you, touch your bare skin, inhale your fragrance.

He knows the chances of you waking and freaking out are high, yet he can’t seem to stop himself from pushing the boundaries of what is right and wrong.

Finally, you stop stirring and his hand slips down the back of your thigh, gently pushing your top leg forward and exposing your clothed cunt.

He pushes the blankets down further and leans up, his eyes locking onto the thin fabric keeping him from your naked pussy.

Pulling his lower lip in and chewing it, he slips his fingers against your panties, holding back a whine as he feels your damp folds through the material.

His gaze flicks up to your face, checking to make sure you’re still unconscious before he slips his finger along the seam of your panties, trying to control his breathing as he pulls the crotch aside to expose your lower lips.

His breath hitches as the movement causes you to shift, having to pause yet again before you settle.

He keeps checking your face as he tugs your panties aside far enough to allow him to skim his fingers along your folds, parting them so he can stare at your tight little hole as he uses his fingertips to search for your clit.

The pads of his fingers graze your hidden bundle of nerves and your sleepy little breathy moan lets him know he’s found it.

He swallows heavily as he keeps his gaze on your face, watching for any sign of consciousness as he slowly starts rubbing in circles, the heat and moisture from your cunt urging him to scoot close enough to rub his erection against your lower back.

Your lips part as he presses against your bud more firmly, encouraging him on as he grinds against you.

He struggles to keep his moans quiet as his fingers slip down to tease at your tight little entrance, the soft noises coming from you making him start to lose what little control he has.

He moves his hand to push his boxers down, freeing his rigid length and positioning it between your thighs, pushing forward to rub the head of his cock through your folds.

“Shhh...” He whispers as you stir, his hand sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top, teasing at your nipple as it tightens in his fingertips.

The room is quiet outside of his ragged breathing and the rhythmic damp noises as he rubs himself against your pussy.

He palms your tit, then squeezes it, moving from one to the other before finally pushing your top up to expose your naked breasts.

“Fuck…ah fuck…” He whispers, watching your face as he closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing against your back even as his mind protests that what he’s doing is so wrong.

You let out a soft moan when he cups your naked breast, using his thumb and forefinger to tug your tightened nipple as he watches your face for any sign of rousing.

He presses his lips to your shoulder as he rolls his hips, each agonizing pass of his cock through your folds encouraging his depraved motions as you soak his length with your arousal.

Even as you shift and let out soft noises every time he rubs himself against your clit, he chastises himself for what he’s doing. Yet he’s so far gone with lust that even as he pauses to check your state, he knows he’s fucked.

You shift against him and the head of his cock catches on your entrance, causing him to hiss out a curse, his hand leaving your nipple to grab your hip and look down between you.

The sight of your glistening cunt is far too much for him to handle and he briefly looks at the outline of your face in the dim light before he bites his lip, grabbing his cock to guide himself into you.

His eyes close in pure bliss as he slowly pushes forward, your quiet sleepy moan mixing with his groans as he grabs your ass and bottoms out inside of you.

His hand flexes on your ass, then slides up the back of your thigh, lifting it so he can watch as he draws back, then plunges back into you.

He grunts with each thrust, not concerning himself anymore with whether he’s waking you, too lost in chasing his own pleasure at this point to stop.

It’s only when your soft voice breaks his concentration that he looks up and notices your lashes fluttering, your hands grabbing at the pillow and sheets as your face subconsciously registers what he’s doing to you.

Guilt momentarily wars with lust as he leans forward to press his face into your neck, his arm slipping around your waist to hold you as he begins propelling his hips faster and harder.

“Sorry…shhh…it’s okay…shhh…fuck, baby…” He whispers against your skin between soft whimpers and grunts.

“...San?” Your confused whisper melded with your gasps as he fucks you only makes him more frantic and he drops his hand between your legs to find your clit, pinching and circling.

He draws back to look at your face, your half lidded eyes on him as he nods, his cheeks heating as you silently question what he’s doing.

“I’m sorry…I know…I shouldn’t…I-fuck! You…you looked too sexy…” He bites out, his hips starting to snap forward harder, your body shaking with each thrust.

“San-!” You cry out, finally fully aware of what’s happening and his fingers leave your clit to grab your thigh and pull it back over his, slipping his other arm under you to grab your breast and hold you in place.

He starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as his hand returns to your clit, feeling your pussy start to clench as he moans out your name.

“Baby…fuck I’m close-” He growls out, nipping at your neck as you start pushing back against him.

“Nngnngg….San…don’t cum-in me-!” You manage before your mouth opens in an ‘o’ and you clench tightly around him, your climax causing him to buck wildly and grit his teeth, barely holding back as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“Ah-ah fuck-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!” He cries out, grabbing your ass and pulling out, pushing his cock between your ass cheeks as he erupts all over your lower back as he continues to rut against you.

Thick ropes of cum spurt all over your back, the sticky mess soaking your back and ass cheeks as his hips jerk erratically, his eyes locked onto the lewd sight before he finally looks up and meets your gaze.

You look over your shoulder up at him and he swallows heavily, his cheeks darkening with a blush.

“Um…” He mutters sheepishly, giving you a weak smile before reaching up to rub the back of his neck in shame, his muscles flexing as he does so.

“Choi San…” You can’t help but eye his arm, then his naked chest appreciatively.

He winces, waiting to be yelled at but you only sigh, reaching back to touch the mess on your lower back.

“I’m…I’m sorry-” He starts, but his words turn into a strangled squeak as you bring your fingers to your lips to taste his cum.

“You could have at least woken me up, San. Jesus-what a mess-”

Before you can finish, his mouth is on yours, not caring about the mess as he rolls you onto your back and pinning you down.

“You’re awake now-” He whispers against your lips.

Well, you can’t argue with that.

#dovenet #Choi San Smut #San smut #Ateez San Smut #Ateez Choi San Smut #Ateez smut

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rxreid · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!! would you be up for writing a soft dom bellamy x best friend reader fic/oneshot? maybe he gets jealous when he sees other guys flirting/talking about y/n in a sexual way. and bellamy being protective, pulled reader away and confesses his love to her?

realms of friendship - b.b

also requested: “hi gurll i didn’t know 100 writers were still active you’re feeding me bc no one writes bellamy smut anymore 😞 i just need porn with a plot please surprise me and keep em comin !” + “hi this is my first time asking but can u plsss write blake smut. like literally anything im so deprived of him im begging.”

warnings: SMUT! unprotected p in v, that’s pretty much it. brief mention of a gun?? but not kinky. technically takes place in s3 of the 100.

word count: 5.1k

characterisation: reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns & feminine terms.

comments: here u go anons!! i hope this is okay…it’s far from the best thing i’ve written, but i wanted to write a bellamy fic whilst i was sure i had some free time. it might be a little ooc, only because i’m not super used to writing for him yet. nevertheless, feel free to send in more request for blurbs/hcs/fics! the first two are more likely to be answered quickly <3. if you don’t wanna read the smut, there’s a divider before it gets spicy :)

“I just think if you popped a couple of buttons open, maybe let your hair loose once in a while, the guys in camp would be all over you,” Jasper shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans into the backseat of the rover, his lips carrying that same ‘carefree’ smirk he’s had since getting out of Mount Weather.

Murphy snorts, sitting opposite Jasper in the trunk. “As if,” he snickers, his nose crinkling in amusement. “The guys in camp are already all over her, she’s just too frigid to give them a try, ain’t that right?” he grins, leaning forward to rest his hands on the leather of her seat, placing his chin on the edge as he peeks into the front. She internally grimaces at his proximity, twisting in her spot to lean against the window, her brows slightly furrowed at the two boys.

“Shut up,” she grumbles quietly, mirroring Jasper’s position and folding her arms, the expression on her face betraying her distaste for the topic of conversation. She's aware that the two boys are purposely trying to rile her up, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with when they get like this.

In the backseat, Jasper kicks his feet up, somehow managing to stay upright despite the bumps in the track as Bellamy roughly drives the four of them back to camp. “Yeah, right. Like who? You?” he muses teasingly, raising a brow at Murphy, as if daring him to take their game further.

“Hell yeah, me,” Murphy retorts cockily, still flashing his borderline predatory grin to her. “With a face that pretty and an ass like that, I can’t understand why she’s not been snatched up,” he smirks, his words complimentary in his own mind yet being perceived entirely different by the recipient. He keeps his gaze on her as he talks to Jasper, briefly glancing over at Bellamy in the driver's seat. The older boy’s nose is turned up in disgust as he listens to the conversation, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent from his grip on the steering wheel.

She scrunches her nose up too, her cheeks heating up at Murphy’s words, feeling a wave of embarrassment pass through her body. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, and he takes it upon himself to lean further over her seat, his chest fully pressed against the back. “What? Not even a thank you?” he taunts, his grin getting wider at the way she squirms under his stare. “Eh, whatever. You look better with your mouth shut. Plus, I can think of other ways to keep it occupied,” he snickers crudely, lifting his arm as he begins to reach his hand around her chair.

In an instant, Bellamy’s fingers are clasping Murphy’s wrist, his grip too tight to pass as merely playful. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, his voice stern as he pushes him into the back of the rover once more. “Back off, Murphy, you don’t need to be so close to her,” he mutters gruffly, his lips slightly pursed into a scowl.

A huff escapes Murphy’s lips as he’s roughly pushed back, thudding into the seat opposite Jasper again, who’s tickled by the entire situation. “Ow. Jeez, Blake, loosen up a little. She knows I’m just fuckin’ with her,” he grumbles, his thumb and pointer finger wrapping around his wrist to soothe the ache of Bellamy’s previous grip. “She’s dead weight, anyway. Dunno why we bring her on these trips if we can’t have some fun with her.”

Bellamy glares at Murphy through the windscreen mirror, his protectiveness for the girl beside him flaring up. He knows he should probably tone it down to avoid suspicion of any deeper feelings for his best friend, but he can’t let her be mercilessly teased when he knows she won't stand up for herself. Plus, the insinuation of her friends bringing her on supply runs purely to sleep with her makes his skin crawl. “Stop being a fucking perv,” he snaps, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly as his hand returns to it.

Murphy furrows his brows, clearly displeased with Bellamy’s interruption of his fun. “I’m not bein’ a perv,” he retorts, his voice laced with offence, “I’m just lettin’ the lady know that she’s got options if she wants it,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes over dramatically, his ego bruised.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want you,” Bellamy grits, pressing down on the gas a little harsher, his mood souring at the thought of spending any longer in the vehicle whilst Murphy shamelessly flirts with his friend. friend.

“Now shut up for the rest of the drive or I’m throwing you out and you’re walking back to camp. Both of you.”

Her eyes go slightly wide at Bellamy’s defence, raising her brows in surprise. She looks back at Jasper and Murphy, who are both staring at her incredulously, and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the short drive is spent in silence, with nobody wanting to get onto Bellamy’s bad side again. Her gaze remains focused on the landscape flying by, thoughts wandering to the boy beside her, as they most often do.

Upon the group’s return to Arkadia, Bellamy pulls into the garage, the roaring of the rover dying in an instant as he shuts it off. “Out,” he orders gruffly, earning a grumble from both Murphy and Jasper as they hop out of the vehicle, slamming the doors behind them before heading away from the garage. She follows suit, watching Bellamy climb out too, and she instinctively starts heading away, not wanting to catch the brunt of his lingering moodiness.

“Not you.”

She stops in her tracks as his words echo through the empty garage, slowly turning around to face him. “Not…me?” she questions, her brows arched. She’s half expecting him to tell her she’s forgotten something, or that she needs to help him unload the rover, but the way his expression has softened tenfold from just minutes ago makes her slightly uneasy.

“Not you,” he repeats, his voice softer, taking a few steps towards her. “What was all that about? Why were you just sitting there letting Jasper and Murphy talk about you like that?”

A dry chuckle escapes her lips, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at the memory. “Used to it by now,” she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Murphy’s been that way since the dawn of time, and Jasper’s new emo phase has him acting like a dick 24/7. It’s whatever,” she huffs, puckering her lips as she stands awkwardly, her gaze shifting around.

“It’s just not ‘whatever’ though, is it?” he retorts sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps closer once more. “You shouldn’t let them believe they can talk to you like that, it’ll just get worse if they think they can get away with it. I know what guys are like,” he says, the idea of her being so compliant with being objectified stirring a flame deep in his heart, his instincts screaming at him to shield her from such taunts.

She snorts at his sass, amused by how insistent he’s getting. “I really don’t care about what they have to say, Blake,” she says, shaking her head slightly and shrugging her shoulders. She’s speaking truthfully - the teasing she endures from other boys in camp is practically an everyday occurrence by now.

“Bellamy,” he corrects.

“What?”

“You’re my best friend. It’s Bellamy to you, not Blake. You know I don’t like that.”

“Okay…” she says, dragging her syllables out briefly. “I don’t really care, Bellamy,” she repeats.

“I do,” he shrugs simply, placing his hands onto his hips. She, too, narrows her eyes at that, scanning his features from any ulterior motive to his words. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his eyes carry a hint of concern, and she’s trying to figure out why without straight up asking.

After a few seconds, she sighs softly, tilting her head backwards as she lets out a groan, a little embarrassed by the entire situation. She lets her head fall straight again, looking over at him. “Bell, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you barking at your friends for me. I can handle it.”

He chuckles at that, and she’s almost offended that the one thing to make him laugh is the thought of her defending herself. “Listen, you can tell me to back off, tell me whatever the hell you want, but you should know by now that I’m not the type of guy to stand by when you’re evidently uncomfortable, princess. If they pull that shit again when I’m around-,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down slightly, raising his brows, “-I’m gonna say something.”

“You’re really annoying,” she deadpans, her eyes still narrowed as he leans to be level with her.

“Not annoying, just protective of my friends,” he shrugs, his hand trailing down to lightly skim across her arm, stilling there. “And you happen to be my best one, so you get the brunt of it.”

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff, her gaze roaming the garage. “Gee, thanks, lucky me,” she grumbles, her brows softly furrowed together.

He hums, straightening up once more as he looks down at her. “Damn straight, lucky you,” he grins, a rare sight from the usual scowl adorning his lips. His gaze is downcast, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes always prominent when his focus is on the girl before him. “And stop that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” he mutters teasingly, lifting his free hand to smooth out the dip between her brows with his thumb.

A faint blush dusts her cheeks as his thumb swipes across her skin, her gaze briefly dashing to his teeth poking behind his lips before back to his eyes. She’s used to him being somewhat touchy, always greeting her with a reunion hug or squeezing her shoulders when she needs reassurance, but something in the air feels different with him tonight.

“Why’d you really defend me against Jasper and Murphy, huh?” she murmurs, her eyes roaming his features skeptically.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but his grin widens cheekily as he steps forward again, his thumb moving to swipe her jaw, silently signalling his next move.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, her eyes widening a smidge as she pieces together what he’s boldly getting at, her own mind running a thousand miles per hour. She finally uncrosses her arms, letting them fall slack at her sides, subtly opening herself up to him. If Bellamy Blake, her best friend, kisses her right here in this garage, she might just have to face a year's worth of pent up emotions, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Why not?” Bellamy whispers, his grin widening as he slowly leans in. At first he was teasing her, but the closer he gets, the more tempting it is to close the gap.

“It’ll change everything,” she retorts quietly, unable to stop herself from taking a peek at his plump lips, his cupids bow littered with stubble.

“No it won’t.”

“Liar.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, he leans in, closing the gap until his lips are ghosting over hers, their noses brushing together. He doesn’t take it any further, keeping their lips a mere few millimeters apart as he waits for her to make the final move, his own lips curved up in a smile so bright she thinks she might go blind.

She huffs at him, seeing what he’s playing at. “I hate you,” she grumbles, all prior thoughts ditching her brain as she presses her lips against his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as they both close their eyes. He’s slightly chapped, but she hadn’t expected much different, so she’s not bothered. She has no room to complain when her best friend, likely the most sought after man in Arkadia, is kissing her so sweetly.

Sweetly doesn't last too long, his lips pressing against hers with more insistence as his hand gently squeezes her arm, his other cupping her cheek. He pokes his tongue out, swiping it across her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry to her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss he’s so desperately been waiting for. When she keeps her lips firmly pressed together, he furrows his brows.

“Lemme in,” he mumbles against her lips, trying again with his tongue.

“No,” she retorts quietly, closing her lips up immediately to keep him out.

“Why not?” he groans gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of a pout on his face.

She pulls back fully, her hands lingering in the air by his waist, not quite willing to place them yet. “Not until you tell me why you’re kissing me,” she whispers, her voice holding a vulnerability that wasn't there minutes ago.

Shaking his head in amusement, he drops his gaze briefly to quietly laugh at her question, before looking at her once more. “Are you seriously asking me that, princess?” he grins, his forehead creasing. “Why does anyone kiss another person?”

She looks up at him, her mind racing with possible answers. For love? For lust? For the hell of it? “I dunno,” she decides is the best answer, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he chuckles, his thumb moving to brush across her chin.

“Yeah. Say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy huffs, smirking at her obliviousness. “Okay, listen carefully, yeah? I…want to kiss you…because I like you, ‘kay? Romantically. R-O-M-A–”

She cuts him off with a smack to his chest at his sarcasm, her cheeks flaring up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it!” she grumbles, letting her head fall down to his shoulder on instinct, wanting to shield herself from his teasing. His grin only widens as she hides her face from him, his hands going to her waist as he nudges his nose into her hair.

“Might even go as far as to say I love you,” he whispers, gently moving her hair out of his way to ghost his lips against her neck, his touch a lot softer than she ever would have anticipated.

“You don’t,” she retorts, lifting her head just an inch to open up her neck to him.

“I do,” a kiss to her pulse point.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Can’t stand hearing other guys talk about you like how they were earlier,” a kiss to her jaw.

“You don’t.”

“I do, princess, and you love me too,” a kiss just below her ear.

“I-” she cuts herself off with a groan, knowing she can’t in good conscience stand here and tell him she doesn’t love him.

Bellamy chuckles at her groan, tilting her head to make her look at him once more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters cockily. “You gonna let me in now?” he questions, his lips hovering above hers for the second time in a few minutes.

“Fine,” she scoffs.

The gap is closed once more in an instant as he presses his mouth to hers, wasting no time before slipping his tongue into her parted lips. He hums at the taste of her, living up to everything he’d ever imagined and more. Her world narrows down to just him and his mouth, her hands finally placing themselves on his waist, fingertips skimming beneath his tan shirt. She can’t help the small moan that passes her lips as he laps his tongue against hers, kissing her like a man starved.

He laughs against her lips again as she moans, hooking his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She does so without hesitation, though she’s slightly stumped by his haste.

“Eager, much?” she mutters as she pulls away, the string of saliva between their mouths breaking as she talks.

A grin breaks onto his lips once more, and he looks over her shoulder as he quickly navigates out of the garage and down the hall, heading for his quarters. “You want me to slow down? You wanna drag this out any longer than we already have?” he grunts out, barely even straining under her weight in his arms as he walks through the remnants of the ark.

“No,” she replies quietly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“Exactly.”

He finds his quarters relatively quickly, even with his vision slightly impaired by her hair. Nudging the door open, he takes them both into the room, ensuring it’s closed behind him before he gently lays her down against the pillows, his frame hovering above hers. She’s been in his quarters many times - they usually hang out in one another’s rooms - but she’s never been beneath him, and she has definitely never felt his growing arousal against the junction between her thighs. Yet, here she is. There’s a first for everything.

She can’t tear her gaze away when he sits up on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in his room. She squeals as he roughly tugs her boots from her feet, followed by his own, their shoes additionally being tossed aside. Her eyes roam his now bare chest, and she audibly gulps. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him bare chested before, of course she has, but never this close, and never with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her.

“Rude to stare,” he mutters, pressing himself between her legs as he dips his head to her neck, starting off with light, gentle kisses.

She rolls her eyes at that, her knees nudging his sides and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Well, apparently we’re more than friends now, so I think I’m allowed to,” she mumbles, tilting her neck to grant him better access.

A chuckle escapes him, and he can’t argue with it. “Fair enough,” he murmurs against her skin, biting down softly on her flesh before letting go. “Can’t tell you how many times you were here in my room,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly against hers. “Sittin’ pretty on my bed… or at my desk,” he grunts, his hands holding her waist, slipping beneath her shirt. “And I couldn’t stop imagining having you like this.”

At the roll of his hips she lets out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hand worms into his hair, tugging on his curls as he continues his assault on her neck. “And yet you called Murphy a perv?” she teases breathlessly, her head dropping back against his pillow.

He growls at the mention of Murphy, pulling away from the love bite he’d been curating to look down at her. “Who’s the one who actually got the girl, huh? Yeah. Me. Fuck him, the little freak,” he grumbles, his fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. “Lift,” he instructs quietly, his tone immediately changing to a more delicate one with her.

She obliges, reaching to grab the hem of her shirt, sitting up slightly and lifting it over her head, tossing it into the forming pile. She reaches behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra before finally getting it undone, leaving it covering her breasts.

He narrows her eyes at her as she teases him, not letting it last long before he grabs her bra straps, carefully tugging them down until she’s fully exposed, her bra joining the pile.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his hands moving to knead her chest without hesitation, and he feels any remnants of blood running straight to his crotch. “Way better than I imagined. Perfect, even,” he mutters, hastily leaning his head down to capture one of her buds in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he groans around her.

Giggling at his haste, she keeps both hands tangled in his hair, her back arching slightly towards his mouth. “Mm, baby, you gonna stay there forever?” she breathlessly murmurs with a grin, watching as he spends at least a few minutes lavishing at her chest.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that,” Bellamy groans, finally letting his mouth leave her chest. “I’m coming back to you two. Mark my words,” he mutters, giving her a final squeeze before he sits back on his haunches. He fumbles around with his toolbelt, mindlessly throwing it - along with the gun nestled in it - somewhere in his bedroom, before his hands begin to work at his zipper.

She looks up at him, biting her lip at the obvious tent in his cargos. She decides to occupy herself whilst he’s busy, undoing her own zipper and lifting her hips, wiggling out of her pants. They both finish undressing at the same time, gazing at one another with massive grins as they take in the sights.

“Shit, I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you, princess,” Bellamy blurts out, his curls loosely falling across his forehead as he leans over her again, his hands roaming her hips with intent.

Her lips part at his words, a little shocked, but she's not sure what else she was expecting him to say. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning up at him as she pushes back his curls.

“Yeah? Why can’t I?” he mutters, catching her wrist in his hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. He looks down at the space between them, the sight of her in just her panties sending him borderline insane. “Any- fuck, any other time I would usually love a little foreplay, but I’ve literally been waiting a year for this, and I don’t think I can wait another second,” he huffs with a grin, looking down at her for approval.

She nods in agreement, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down, sealing their lips together in another kiss. It’s much more desperate now, their shared hunger evident in the way their tongues bind together, a mess of pants and pent up longing. His fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, tapping her hips twice so she lifts them, before slowly pulling her panties down her legs, his lips never leaving hers.

Bellamy reaches his hand carefully between her legs, caressing her hip for a moment before finding the spot between her thighs, the tip of his middle finger sliding through her folds. He groans against her mouth, elated to be greeted by a slickness evidently just for him. “D’you always get this wet,” he mutters against her mouth, pressing sloppy kisses against her lips between his words.

She gasps quietly at the contact, shaking her head. She definitely is not usually this aroused, and she’s certain it’s because of how long her body has been waiting to feel this specific set of hands against her skin.

“Oh, yeah?” he grins cockily, moving his lips to her neck once more. “So this is all for me, princess? Just me?” he teases, his fingertip lightly caressing her now, teasingly moving around and avoiding where she needs him most.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her hand tugging on his hair, desperate for more contact. “Bell, I thought you said no foreplay,” she whines.

He beams at her whine, feeling a rush of pride at how quickly he can reduce her to a mess of desperation, even on their first time together. “Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he murmurs against her neck, reaching his hands down to free himself from the confines of his boxers. He groans as the cold air hits his skin, slowly positioning himself between her thighs. A quiet moan leaves her lips at the sensation of the head of his cock running between her folds before he slowly sheathes himself fully, having to bite down on her shoulder to muffle his moan.

She can’t help but whimper at the sheer size of him, her eyes widening as he eventually bottoms out. She hadn’t had the chance to actually see him before he conjoined their bodies, but god, she can feel every inch and crevice of him, pressed snugly against the wall of her cervix.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he pulls back from her neck, watching the space between their bodies. He slowly pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands on her waist keeping her steady. “Couldn’t ever conjure up a dream this good,” he mutters, his voice strained.

A moan is all she can let out, her brows furrowed as he steadily begins to move. She’s on the same wavelength as him, trying to register that this is really happening, she’s not dreaming, and her best friend is definitely fucking her.

He moves to grip her thigh with one hand, pulling it up around his waist as he finds a rhythm, deepening himself within her. His strokes are steady and forceful, each one perfectly designed to elicit that sweet moan from her lips as he works, his thighs tensing with the exertion. “Mine,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

She whimpers sharply at his words, her legs curling around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he picks up the pace. She reaches for him again, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps his hair. “Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes slipping closed as her back arches up towards him. “Fuck, there’s perfect.”

Bellamy grins at her moans, a rush of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He angles his hips to replicate his previous thrust, driving into her from that same position. “Right here, princess?” he groans out, his other hand holding her hip with a bruising pressure, feeling her clench around him. “Oh, yeah, you liked that, huh? Lookin’ so gorgeous beneath me, fucking perfect, every inch of you.”

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans gradually increasing in octave as he learns his way around her body, figuring out what works best for her. His cock slides in and out with ease, twitching within her as his tip smacks against her womb, letting him know just how deep he is. She can barely think straight, her mind a whirlwind of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy. Her eyes open once more, instantly met with his own warm brown ones looking back at her, his gaze unwavering as he studies her expression, committing every movement of her face to memory. He grins wolfishly at her as she looks at him, driving his hips into her with a newfound force, desperate to see her face contort with a release.

Unexpectedly, he sits back on his calves, bringing her with him. His hand moves to her lower back, looking up at her as he quickly encourages her to move with him. “There you go, princess,” he mutters, one hand holding her hip to guide her. She obeys, of course, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, imprinting crescent moons into his skin as she moves her hips on top of him, whining loudly whilst he drives up into her, meeting every thrust she makes. “Good girl, fuck, so pretty like this.”

The moan that escapes her is borderline deafening as he praises her, her head dropping into the crook of his neck. Her body moves sensually against his, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks with every movement she makes. He presses a kiss against the valley of her breasts, grunting as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening. “I love you,” he mutters against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. “So fucking much. Should’ve done this so long ago, baby, god, should’ve done this back at the dropship,” he moans, twitching inside of her as his release rapidly approaches.

She whimpers relentlessly against his neck, her hand bunching up his hair so tightly she’s worried she might rip it out. She would respond if she could, but she’s too focused on the pleasure he’s giving her, feeling drunk on every jolt of his cock within her.

Bellamy whines a little at the grip on his hair, his head tilting back as he uses all of his strength to pound up into her. He keeps one hand on her lower back, the other reaching down to find her clit, rubbing tight circles against her, needing to feel her come around him. “So close, princess,” he gasps, his free hand moving down to grip at her ass, kneading it between her fingers. “So fucking close. Gonna come and make you mine for good, yeah? Nobody’s gonna say shit about you anymore,” he moans, his head still thrown back.

Nodding rapidly, she pulls back too, her eyes roaming his exposed neck as she continues moving, despite the ache in her thighs. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, the small stubble gracing his chin and mouth, the way his lips are parted, it’s all too much. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, swiping across the scar there, and she can’t take much more, tugging his hair to smash her lips against his yet again.

He groans against her mouth, unable to keep himself upright as he falls fully against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. From here, he can angle his hips to drive up into her at a brutal force, her ass smacking against his thighs with every thrust. He can feel her walls tightening around him, knowing he’s just as close as she is.

“Come with me, princess. Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against her lips, her clit dragging against his pelvis with every harsh pound he delivers to her.

It's not long before he’s thrusting in harshly one final time, coming with a loud grunt of her name and spilling deep into her womb, painting her as his.

His orgasm spurs on her own, her body convulsing around him as she comes, his tongue swallowing her moans, along with a muffled screech of his name. She pants heavily, pulling away from his mouth and collapsing against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his tanned skin.

He huffs out a laugh, his pupils wide with bliss, wrapping his arms around her as she collapses. “Yeah, holy fucking shit,” he repeats, his hand slowly running up and down her back, trying to soothe her trembling body. “You okay?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Was that okay?”

She grins against his chest, her eyes closing and her body relaxing. “That was more than okay,” she whispers, slowly lifting her hips so he slips out of her, softening now, the both of them able to get more comfortable. “You’re like…way better than I imagined,” she teases.

“Oh, you thought I’d be bad, huh? I don’t have a reputation for nothing,” he smirks, sitting up with her in his arms and shuffling them around so they're pressed against the pillows, her head on his chest. the slight sheen of sweat over the planes of his muscles isn’t a bother, an overwhelming sense of comfort washing over her.

“Mm, actually, you were totally shit,” she teases, snuggling closer to him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in.

“Liar,” he grins.

“We’ll see,” she mutters tiredly, echoing their previous words. “But, for the record, I love you, too.”

congrats if u made it this far <3 ty for reading i promise they’ll get better 😔

#blake.txt * ˚ ✦#xrated.txt * ˚ ✦#myfics.docx * ˚ ✦#bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake x female reader

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moonlight-alexia · 5 months ago

Text

no words, just you | a.p.

alexia putellas x matildas!reader | 1.4k | you come home to alexia after a tough international break

ˏˋ°•*⁀ i hope y'all like it, it just came into my head no long ago and felt the need to write it. idk if it's any good but hope you all like to read it <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

As you settled into your seat on the plane, an uneasy weight settled over your body. A long flight that was going to be made even longer with the way you couldn’t settle yourself or seem to relax. There was a heaviness that wasn’t going away and all you could do was hope that it would leave once you focused back on club football.

You normally loved international break. You love representing your country, you love spending time with your national teammates, you were all so close and had this bond. Especially everyone being spread across the globe, camp was made more special getting to see your friends that you had grown up playing football with.

You always wore the green and gold with so much pride, you just wished the people in charge cared about you and the team the way you cared about playing for your country. It was easier said than done to just focus on the football and let that do the talking. The constant media abuse was starting to weigh on most of the girls in camp, having no clear direction and not properly building towards a home tournament in twelve months was becoming exhausting. Seven months without a permanent coach.

Part of you wished you had pulled out of this camp and stayed in Barcelona with Alexia during this break. But the idea of a little tournament and a kit debut had drawn you in and now, mentally, you were paying the price of going.

Leaning your head back against your seat, you let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You grabbed your phone, hovering over the texts from Alexia, seeing the most recent ones she’d sent as you were getting on the plane.

‘Bon dia mi amor, have a safe flight. I’ll be there when you land. Te quiero y te extraño mucho xx’

A little smile graced your lips, you couldn’t wait to be home with Alexia, to be in her arms where nothing else seems to matter but the safety of her presence. Alexia had been a bit worried about you over the last week and a bit. She’d managed to find a way to watch your matches and by the end of the last one she could see how defeated you looked. Each loss on top of everything else going on had really weighed you down and it was visible, probably more so to someone like Alexia who knew you as well as she did.

Since the kit debut photos came out where Alexia couldn’t hold back from calling you and you having agreed to model the away kit for her when you were back home, conversations between the two of you mainly consisted of Alexia sending you little messages throughout the day with no expectation of you answering.

Even if you barely had the mental energy to reply to the messages, getting to read little bits of Alexia’s day made you smile. Also made you miss her even more than you thought you could.

‘Te quiero Ale, can’t wait to see you again x’

Soon enough you’ll be in Alexia’s arms, the one thought that would get you through the flight back to Barcelona. You were wrapped up in one of Alexia’s hoodies that you’d taken on camp with you, arms wrapped around yourself tightly as if you could hold yourself together so you didn’t feel so flat and like you were breaking. The hoodie still smelled like Alexia and your eyes suddenly grew heavy. It’d been a long week and a half, so you were more than happy to let yourself succumb to and let sleep wash over you.

‘Amor!’ Alexia’s eyes lit up when she saw you walking through the airport, quickly making her way over to you, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up slightly. You let out a breath of a laugh, dropping the handle of your suitcase and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. Nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck, the hoodie may have smelled like Alexia but nothing was better than actually having her against you.

‘Hola Ale,’ You whispered against the skin of her neck, your breath sending a shiver down her spine. She’s missed this, missed you.

Time seemed to stop while you both stood wrapped up in each other's arms in the middle of the airport. Reluctantly you slightly pulled away from each other, your hands resting on the tops of her arms while Alexia’s were still loosely wrapped around your waist. Alexia leaned down, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

Alexia grabbed the handle of your suitcase with one hand and with the other she held out for you to hold, lacing your fingers together the moment your hand met hers, ‘Home now, sí?’ Alexia gave your hand a little squeeze, smiling softly at you.

‘I’m already home amor,’ Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder against yours.

‘Oh stop it you,’ Alexia tried to hide her smile from you, but it was always impossible.

A comfortable silence fell over you both while Alexia drove you back to your shared house. You were still so tired, leaning your head back, your eyes fixated on your girlfriend. Every so often you saw her eyes flutter in your direction, lips turning up every time she caught your gaze. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks when she noticed you were staring at her.

‘Mi amor,’ Alexia whined, ‘Why you staring?’ She reached over gently, pushing your head to look the other way.

‘What? I can’t look at mi novia who is muy bonita,’ You emphasised the little bits of Spanish you sprinkled in whenever you could, making Alexia laugh a little.

‘Remember when all you could say was bon dia for months,’ It had taken you a bit to get used to and remember bits of the language from your lessons. Somehow you and Alexia got to know each other despite her broken English and your broken Spanish, ‘Now look at you, adding more words,’ You pushed her hand away when she tapped your thigh faux condescendingly.

‘Not my fault it took me so long. My teacher was quite distracting,’ You joked around, cracking a half smile. Alexia smirked, a wink sent your way and at a red light she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, resting her hand on your thigh.

The moment you walked through the front door to the house you shared with Alexia, there was a comfort that instantly washed over you. The past week, while still in the back of your mind, it wasn’t so loud anymore. Photos of you and Alexia, your friends and family filled the space and you were reminded of everything good in your life.

‘Hate seeing you like this cari,’ Alexia’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ‘I know what it’s like, if you need to talk,’ You melted into Alexia’s embrace. You may not have been the one to tell her what had been going on, but she always knew what to do and say even if no one had told her.

‘Just want to be here with you, leave it all out there,’ You pointed lazily towards the door, for now wanting to keep your house the safe space you needed.

Alexia laid against the headboard, you laid between her legs with your head on her chest. She wrapped a blanket around the two of you, rubbing your back gently, for the first time since you left Barcelona for camp you felt like you could finally relax.

Alexia kissed the top of your head, letting her lips linger, ‘Saw the goal mi vida, siempre muy bien, going do that with us next week?’ She spoke softly against your head.

You cuddled into Alexia, pressing yourself against her even more, trying to get as close as possible, ‘Do I get a reward if I do?’ You smiled sheepishly.

‘Hmm you always do,’ Alexia tilted your head up and kissed you slowly,

The weight of everything would come back another day but for tonight you were home, safe, loved and in the arms of the one person who could always make everything feel like it would be okay again. You were back with Alexia and, tonight, that’s all that matters.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia x reader #alexia putellas imagine #fcb femení #barca femini x reader #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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m0chisenpai · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! Can you do a Armand x Fem!reader x Louis? She would be an assistant of Daniel’s. They have sorta a thing for her but are trying to ease up because she’s not as open to the whole camp thing or lowkey doesn’t believe them.

off the record

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which Daniel neglected to coach you how to deal with the behind the scenes of the creative process

author note: I had too much fun writing this, I love the idea of this trio so much

There takes a certain level of thick skin to work for Daniel Molloy. He wasn't a terrible boss. Just a difficult old man with extremely particular needs and ways he worked. But when he found you, you were an intern with well regarded credentials and grades, but according to your counselor you were headstrong and outspoken.

He accepted your application instantly and by the next year you were his official, and most longstanding, assistant. You juggled his interviews and meetings with editors, and only recently have you begun to manage his doctors appointments.

You traveled with him, it was a non-negotiable that you were to come and expenses were covered, but Dubai was the last thing you'd expected. You’d been nearly to all the states, but for Daniel’s health anything out the country was once in a while and planned carefully. And a you flew in the first class seat, you could not help but wonder who you were interviewing. NDA's were not new to you, but this one was lengthy and vowed more than just your silence.

The first night of the interview you aren’t present. Daniel can tell when he stops by your room, how your eyes droop. Your feet shuffle to greet him at the door and when you speak your words are mumbled and your glasses sit crooked on your face..

He lets you sleep, but he won't say its out of care, that he's filled with guilt for dragging you into a penthouse of supernatural apex killers. "Get to sleep unless you wanna read through my mess of a notes kid mixed with your droll." He raises a brow that you hum and nod at closing the door so you can return to the warm sheets of the bed. After that you are a fly on the wall just as he always instructed you to be.

Beside him, eyes down, fingers moving and taking notes when he mutters something to you.

You have an immediate distaste for both men. Vampire wannabes? This is who you are wasting your time on?

Louis asks who you are on the third night, "I never took you for a man who needs help Daniel." You won't admit, but your heart picks up, but you keep your eyes on the computer screen and let Daniel respond for you.

"Not an intern, she's one of the few ones who didn't run crying after a week working for me."

Your lips turn up at this, one of the few moments he would ever compliment you.

"She truly is like you." His eyes must be on you again, but a shiver washes down your spine. It feels as though someone's nail ghosts the skin on your back, trailing down your spine. And another hand, caresses the back of your neck. You roll your shoulders, brushing off the feelings and thoughts that start to build up.

"Stay out out my mind," you mumble.

"My apologies, just wanted to know about our surprise second guest." Now you dare to look up at him. Ghosts, goblins, vampires werewolves were for shows pandering toward a female audience that wanted to drool over men too beautiful and perfect to ever enter their mundane lives.

You scoff and return your focus to the notes in front of you. "Save the immortal hack for Daniel, Mr.Du Lac."

Your skin crawls at the way he tilts his head ever so slightly, and in that cocky drawl he offers another apology.

"Mr Du Lac and his companion would like to dine with you."

One of the shadowy workers pulls you feom the comfotrt of your show and you rush back in to throw on a quick lunge set, decent enough for dinner clothes and comfortable enough for the late hour. You assume it's in regards to the interviews. You bring your computer and personal notepad along with Daniel's. But what you are met with are two wine glasses side by side paired with the men on the couch, one sits in front of them.

An empty one sits in front of the empty counch where you sit. You wonder who is the one being interviewed now.

Their gazes are unblinking as you set your things and carefully cross one leg over the other.

"I'm sorry we are meeting so late, or would it be early Mr.Du Lac."

"Call me Louis, the pleasure is mine. My companion Armand wanted to join our meeting this evening."

Armand creeps you out the moment your eyes lock, how his golden eyes stare you, analyzing you. He isn't as old as Louis. He actually seems to be the age of some of the TA's from school. Though you'd prefer it if it were just Louis and you. You can manage being alone with the latter.

Dinner is set beside the empty glass by a worker. It looks like deconstructed artistic something with sauces encasing a small small ball of rice drizzled with thinkly sliced meats and veegatbles, but the instant you smell it your nose scrunches. The glass is filled with a white wine and you thank the man.

"Daniel tells us you think none of this to be real." Ah, so it does speak.

"It's true. I find the supernatural charade boring," you pick up the yellow pad and pen. "But I'm not paid to to dig any deeper than he asks me to. I polish and prime what he asks, and he does all the writing."

"This is dinner, cher."

"This is work, and I don't eat pork."

Louis quirks an eyebrow up at this development. "Religious?"

"Dietary restriction, I feel ill every time I eat it. Now if we may?"

"You weren't able to join the first interview because too were tired. I could hear your heart the entire time, you didn't sleep. Kept tossing and turning the entire night." Now you look at Louis, here he goes again.

"An easy observation, can we please focus on-"

"Thoughts were racing an awful lot too that night," Louis looks up in fake thought "is any of this worth it, why waste my time on a rich hack. I could be back home working on my portfolio."

Once again you cut him off. Pinching the bridge of your nose and gritting your teeth, "another brilliant observation please try and do better, now in session 2-"

"Your father took your mother here." Armand speaks up now and your heart stops, "those earrings she gifted you were from here. In fact in your dreams the previous evening you dreamt of taking them both here. You started planning it with the money that will come out of this interview and you have begun to explore the city when you are not needed, you've begun a list of where you wish to take them."

Every word accelerates your heart, it makes Louis smile "Careful cher, your heart might beat out your chest."

Your hands shake as they swipe the glass of wine in front of you, you take two large gulps. Clutching it for comofrt.

"My apologies, I did not wish to cause any distress."

"I'm sorry, I need a moment." You leave your things behind and return to your room that night. You feel childish locking the door behind you and running to the bathroom where you stop for a moment closing that door behind you as well locking it and taking the hottest of showers. The next morning a letter from the two sits by breakfast along with your things in a neat pile.

Eerily it is exactly what you were thinking of yesterday morning, it is french toast made from the fluffiest brioche. With a side of steaming bacon cooked to absolute perfection, turkey, not pork. Armand asks to speak to you while Daniel rests along with Louis.

Once you eat and shower quickly putting on a sweater to combat the chill you find him in the study.

He sits patiently as you get comfrotable in your own seat.

"It was not our intent to alarm you" his eyes follow you as you lean back to cross your arms. "You did not rest last night because of us. Please use tonight to rest."

You refuse to look at him, favoring the thread on your sweaters sleeve.

"You are more than qualified to work for any other reporter on your own, yet you work for...him. Why?"

"He was the only one to look pass the observations of my advisor, I wasn't going to be just an errand girl. Not too many publishers cared for my opinions. I was too blunt and rough along the edges to be a 'real' writer."

"You didn't believe Mr.Molloy was interviewing a vampire yet you still followed him here."

"It's not my book. I'm a fly on the wall remember? I help him and in turn one day I can begin to build my own project."

"But if it were your story?"

You pause in thought, and now you look into those unsettling eyes after a moment. "I would have interviewed Claudia had she survived. I feel her story needs to be heard."

You answer more of his prodding questions till you return to your room for lunch. A wrap of some sort with nuts and fruits on the side sits at the desk. And a pile of little girls diaries with white gloves and a note to handle with caution.

Progress is slow and steady, but there is a mutual respect that grows amongst the three of you. You indulge Armand in his prodding questions in turn he answers all your own. Though he refused to answer yor childish inquiries about the Gift.

Armand won't voice his affinity for you as Louis does. You won't admit the way his eyes settle on you as you enter the room makes you preen, makes your heart fuzzy and your head feel like it wants to float away.

The interview goes on tonight with Armand joining. They once more talk about Lestat. You try and fight your eyes from rolling as you read through an email.

'If I hear his name one more time I might gouge my ears out.'

'Don't torture yourself like that cher.' Your eyes look to him, but he remains focused on Daniel, listening to Armand. How does one multitask like that? Two conversations at once must be hard to juggle.

'Years of practice.'

'And what's with all this chere nonsense?'

'Would you prefer your name instead?'

'No' your cheeks warm in embarassment "I...enjoy it."

"Get me some pictures of this theatre." Daniel's instructions get your attention, "and whatever memorabilia you can find." You nod typing that onto your list of many other things to do.

'I will help you with that tonight, after the session I've arranged for dinner tonight' Armand now stares at you and that damned feeling begins to creep back in 'no pork as per your request.' You hate how quick you are to forgive him. But he slowly is earning your trust again.

Daniel coughs obnoxiously getting the elder vampires attention. "You were saying?" This time when you look down, a smile only the pair can detect makes its way upon your lips.

They stare at you less, leave your mind alone as per your request. And indulge in your blunt questions. Each night you find yourself slowly feeling less discomfort. You almost wish you could stay, you think to yourself one night now dining with the two looking at pictures of their time in France.

He sits beside you, smiling as he watches your hands carefully hold the photos from their time in France.

"No fair, Paris is top of my bucket list."

"I'd be more than happy to take you," Louis gives you that smirk which you roll your eyes in playfulness at.

"Sure you will."

"We could take you anywhere you would like" Armand states as though it is a fact of life.

"Ibizia?"

"Gladly."

"Bali."

"Sure."

Even though you still doubt their supernatural nature. You indulge them. Unknown that just as much as you have them wrapped around your finger, they have you caught in a web.

And they'll patiently wait for you to realize that there are some beings whose hearts you should never toy with. For the results afterwards, are eternal.

#armand x reader #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac x reader #louis x reader #the vampire armand x reader #iwtv x reader #journalist!reader

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wosospacegirl · 4 months ago

Text

sneaky teenager vibe - Lionesses x teen reader

Summary: The Lionesses quickly realize that the team's "baby" is all grown up now.

Warnings: team banter as always

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist

At just 17 years old, Y/n was the youngest player on the Lionesses squad. She’d debuted for the team when she was only 15, and though she was incredibly talented, the older players still treated her like she was their baby.

But Y/n couldn’t blame them, though, she was very bubbly and silly, it was just her personality. She was just the happiest person around, she couldn’t help herself.

Becoming a footballer was her biggest dream since she was a kid. When she got the offer to play for FC Bayern München, she was thrilled, she even posted it on her Instagram–she had like 200 followers–but had to delete it because, for some reason, it was still private information.

After playing for six months in Germany, she got called up to the England senior squad, and that's when everybody adopted Y/n as their own, especially Lucy, Millie and Leah, who were among the oldest in the squad.

Y/n also had a very close relationship with Georgia, since they played and lived together when they were playing for their club in Germany.

It was safe to say the older players were always protective of her, especially after seeing her grow up over the years, both in her personal and professional life.

The younger players, though–Aggie, LJ and Grace– were definitely more like friends to her. Even though they were a few years older, they didn’t treat her like a kid, like the older players. They also had a different way of showing their affection, they loved to tease her. It was their love language.

When the lionesses were in camp for a match in Portugal, Y/n had the bright plan of sneaking out to the beach near their training center. It wasn’t too dangerous, the night was quiet, and the beach was empty.

Y/n brought the younger girls along, of course. Lauren James and Aggie were happy to go, but Grace needed a little encouragement, which Y/n, of course, gave to her.

“I have a secret to share,” she said, looking at Grace with puppy eyes. “It’s like super important…please, Gracie? Come with us?”

Grace huffed, but followed the girls as they so sneakily walked through the corridor of the training center, trying to be extra careful not to make a sound while they were passing in front of Leah’s room.

The skipper could be quite stern whenever the younger girls did something they shouldn’t.

Y/n was excited, not just from the adrenaline of sneaking you, but because she was finally about to share what she’d been holding in for way too long.

When they got to the beach, Y/n laid down a towel on the sand and asked the girls to sit in a circle before she disclosed what she had kept to herself.

“Okay,” she started, adjusting her shirt, then adjusting it again. “You guys remember that girl I told you about? Melina?”

Lauren and Aggie nodded immediately, while Grace raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The one you’ve been obsessing over for, like, months?”

Y/n huffed. “I haven’t been obsessing–”

“Uh-huh,” Grace deadpanned. “Sure.”

Y/n ignored Grace and leaned in, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Three days before the international break started, she invited me to her house and–”

The girls were silent, waiting.

“And…?” Aggie asked, waving her hand to Y/n to continue.

Y/n pressed her lips together and she lowered her voice to a whisper, like she was letting them in on the world’s most sacred secret.

“We did it.”

There was a moment of silence before the three girls started to cheer her on.

A squeal. Aggie and Lauren gasped dramatically, and Grace just blinked, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You finally did it?!” Aggie all but shouted.

Y/n grinned, feeling warm under their reactions. “Yes! Finally.”

The girls erupted, cheering so loud Y/n had to shush them, but she was laughing too.

It felt good to share.

But the next day, when they all sat down for breakfast, the younger girls acted like nothing had happened, not wanting the older players to know what they were up to last night.

That evening, Lucy and Millie decided to organise a team bonding game. The goal was to get the team to open up and interact more with each other, especially since the older players hadn’t really connected with the younger ones. Much, or well, not as much as Lucy wanted.

Little did they know, the game was going to lead to a pretty awkward moment for Y/n.

It was just a game of cards, an innocent, get-to-know-me game.

When it was Y/n’s turn, she drew a card from the deck and read out loud, before she could even process what she was reading,

"When and how was your first time?" Y/n said, but then her eyes bulged. “Oh, okay. Very straightforward this one.”

Y/n wasn’t easily embarrassed. Normally, she was the one asking the inconvenient question, but having all the girls waiting for her as she read that card? Not good at all.

Lucy’s eyes widened before she forced a casual tone. "Alright, yeah, we’re skipping that one. Let’s try something more age-appropriate…something you can talk about, like–‘What’s your favorite Disney princess?’"

Y/n rolled her eyes, but felt grateful for the easy escape.

She was already reaching for a new card when Grace, completely missing the social cues, furrowed her brows.

"Wait, why can’t she talk about it? Didn’t it happen, like, two weeks ago?" Grace asked, completely oblivious to the way Y/n's entire body stiffened. "I mean, you literally told us on the beach, remember?"

The room fell silent.

Y/n froze mid-motion, her face turning a deep shade of red. Aggie immediately elbowed Grace, while murmuring, "Shut up!" while Lauren James let out a groan, dragging a hand down her face.

Lucy blinked, her expression shifting from confusion to realization. "Two weeks ago?

Millie’s eyes lit up with interest. “Wait! You had your first time two weeks ago, and we’re just hearing about this now?”

Y/n clenched her jaw. "Grace."

Grace finally seemed to realize. "Oh... oh no."

Y/n could feel every pair of eyes on her. She swallowed hard. "Guys, let’s just–"

Lucy, still staring at Y/n like she was processing it all, suddenly turned to Georgia. "Did you know about this?"

Georgia held up her hands defensively. "No, and honestly, I’m offended I wasn’t trusted with this information."

"Trusted?" Y/n snorted. "You would've told them immediately."

"Yeah, but still! It’s the principle."

Y/n groaned, feeling trapped. She subtly pushed her chair back, trying to casually stand up, but Millie was faster–she slapped a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, pushing her back down.

"Not so fast, lover girl," Millie said, leaning forward with a teasing grin. "I mean… is it true?"

Y/n, usually the most easy-going one, tried to play it cool. "Yes, I mean… I’m seventeen, it was time, right?" she said, but her voice cracked at the end, even though she was trying to make a joke out of it.

“You know what? I knew something was up!” Georgia said, as if she had just found out a secret. “You’ve been extra happy at training.”

"Yes, you have!" Georgia insisted. "And wait, why didn’t you tell me, though?"

"Georgia, not you too, please," Y/n sighed.

“We live together!” Georgia said. “Your parents trusted you to me.”

“And they clearly made the wrong choice,” Y/n said, deadpanned.

"Hey, mate," Leah chimed in from the corner of the room. "Look, we’re not here to judge. I get it, you’re a teen, you’re growing up and all that, but..."

Y/n turned to her, confused. "Where did you come from, Leah? You literally said you weren’t playing and were going to bed."

Leah waved her off. "Yeah, I was, but Keira said there was some big revelation happening—"

"Big revelation?" Y/n repeated, exasperated. "Guys, I’m old enough to…oh god– to have sex! It’s normal, isn’t it? Everybody does it."

"No, you’re right," Lucy said. "It’s normal, especially at your age. We were just..."

"Caught off guard," Millie finished for her.

There was a moment of silence before Millie pushed her with a smirk. "So… was it good?"

Y/n let out an exaggerated groan, grabbing a pillow from the couch and burying it in her face. "Oh my God, Millie."

Millie leaned back, trying her best to look innocent. "Hey, we’re all adults here, right?" she added, looking at the older players like they might back her up.

"Millie, you’re actually horrible," Y/n mumbled from behind the pillow, voice muffled.

"I just want to know if it was okay!" Millie teased.

"Oh, God, stop," Y/n said, poking her head out of the pillow.

"You know," Millie continued, her smirk widening. "You should’ve told us when it happened."

"How, exactly?" Y/n asked, rolling her eyes. "Do you expect me to text about it in the Lionesses group chat?

The girls all nodded immediately, except, of course, her actual friends.

Y/n scoffed. “Right, because that’s exactly what I’d do. “Good morning, girls! Does anyone know a good brand of boots? Oh, and by the way–”

She mimicked typing on her phone, as she said out loud, “–Finally lost my virginity! Feeling accomplished :D See you all at camp! ❤️🔥"

The team burst into laughter, clearly enjoying themselves way too much.

"Yes, actually," Millie said, completely serious. "It’s a big moment! It would’ve been nice to know about it!"

"We could have... bought a cake for you!" Lucy added enthusiastically.

"I don’t want cake!" Y/n cried dramatically.

"Okay, okay, sorry..." Lucy raised her hands in surrender. "Pie, then. No problem–"

"Lucy, you’re missing the point completely," Aggie cut in. "She doesn't want it to be a big deal, right Y/n?”

"But it is a big deal!" Lucy argued.

"No, it’s not!" Y/n shot back, throwing her hands in the air. "And I really don’t want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, okay..." Lucy finally let go, though she still looked unconvinced. "But you were, like... safe, right?"

Y/n dramatically fell back onto the couch, limbs sprawled out like she’d been hurt by the question. "Lucy, I swear to–"

"Just so you know, there are things called dental d–”

Before Lucy could finish, Y/n took another pillow and buried it into her face. “I’m going to off myself,” she mumbled.

“No, you’re not,” Georgia said, taking the pillow from Y/n as she ignored the way the younger girl gave her side eyes.

Leah, who had been watching all of this unfold with amusement, finally stepped in, shaking her head. "Alright, alright, give the girl a break. You lot are embarrassing yourselves more than her at this point."

Y/n peeked up hopefully. "So I can go now?"

Leah smirked. "Yes, before those two start planning a party for your next life milestone."

Y/n groaned, putting the pillow down before heading to the door "I hate all of you."

"Love you too!" Millie called after her.

"Sweet dreams, grown-up!" Lucy teased.

"Shut up!" Y/n yelled over her shoulder, but there was no real anger behind it...just a lot of affection.

As she disappeared into her room, the rest of the team finally took a breath, glancing at each other.

"Okay, maybe we did overdo it", Millie admitted, rubbing the back of her neck “I’ve never seen that girl embarrassed once in her life.”

"Yeah," Lucy agreed, "I‘ve never seen her…blush"

The younger girls sat down with Millie and Lucy, shaking their heads.

"Yeah, you guys were all way too much", Aggie said, arms crossed.

Lucy looked guilty. "We just wanted to make sure she was okay. It's a big step."

"It’s not that big a deal," Aggie said, shaking her head. "You guys are always in our business, and we don’t mind most of the time because we’re a team."

"It’s like having the talk with your parents, you know? It's awkward." LJ said.

Grace nodded. "You two especially sounded like a pair of embarrassing aunties."

“Embarrassing aunties? Really?” Lucy said, clearly offended. “We were aiming more for the big sister kind of thing.”

“We were like big sisters to her when she told us last night at the beach,” Aggie said. “We actually let her feel comfortable enough to talk about it, and–”

“Beach?” Leah interrupted.

Suddenly, LJ, Aggie and Grace all froze.

“What beach?” Grace said, trying to look baffled. “She didn't say anything about beaches.”

“Clinton?” Leah said, deadpanned.

“Yeah?”

“Go to bed,” Leah said, pointing at the door.

Grace lowered her head and did so, but not before Leah said. "If I find out you four snuck out to the beach in the middle of the night…" Leah trailed off, shaking her head. "You’ll be on locker duty for the rest of camp."

Suddenly, Aggie and LJ discovered that they too needed to go to bed, feeling very tired. Without another word, they all sprinted to their rooms, closing the door–maybe a little too quickly–behind them.

“Hm, that’s what I thought,” Leah muttered, shaking her head.

Lucy and Millie looked at the captain disapprovingly.

“That’s why they never tell us anything!” Lucy said with indignation.

“Yeah,” Millie said, rubbing her chin. “It’s like they have the whole sneaky teenager vibe thing nailed down…”

Leah raised her eyebrow and gave the two women a sharp look; “Well, maybe if you two didn’t turn everything that happens to them into a huge team event, they wouldn't feel the need to be sneaky!”

Lucy and Millie felt bad for making Y/n feel embarrassed, even if they knew Y/n wasn’t completely upset by it. That’s why they decided to make up for it by buying Y/n some chocolate from the closest store and bringing it to her room.

When they knocked on Y/n’s door later that night, she opened it, and instantly saw the bag in Lucy’s hand.

"Please don’t tell me you bought me dental dams," she deadpanned, ready to close the door on their faces.

"Nope. Just chocolate," Lucy grinned, showing the girl the bars. “Georgia said those were your favorites.”

Y/n crossed her arms, pretending to consider it, a smile on her face “I don’t know… You guys did embarrass me later today. Feels like I should be getting a month's worth of chocolate.”

Millie huffed. “Fine, next time we’ll embarrass you even more, so it’s worth it.”

Y/n snatched the bag before they could change their minds. “Deal.”

Millie’s teasing smirk softened just a little. “We are sorry, though. We forget sometimes that you’re not still that little awkward teen kicking a ball around.”

“Okay, was that supposed to be part of the apology or…?” Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I tried,” Millie said, teasing,

Y/n smiled. "It’s okay. It was just really awkward, that’s all."

Lucy pulled her into a hug. "Point is, if you ever need to talk or need anything, we’re here for you."

Y/n smiled, her face warming. "I know. And I do talk about stuff like this–with Grace, Lauren, and Aggie. So you don’t need to worry so much."

Millie’s grin returned. “Look at you, all grown up.”

Y/n groaned again, but this time, it was mostly for show. “Alright, alright–I love you guys too.”

Note: please let me know what u guys think!!

Also yeah three fics today yay

#woso fanfic #woso x reader #lioness teen reader #lionesses x reader #lionesses #england lionesses

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aryaryxoxo · 2 months ago

Text

I have a fucking crush on the guy and you expect me to play a game against him—HIM?! Ushijima Wakatoshi x fem! reader

“Woah, look at that spike!” one of the commentators exclaims, eyes wide as the ball slams into the court with a deafening thud. The receiver dives instinctively, arms outstretched, but the sheer force of the ball knocks it past his reach, skidding across the floor. The crowd erupts in a mixture of awe and gasps.

“Ushijima is truly a beast,” another commentator adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “That kind of power—it’s like the ball bends to his will.”

“It’s no surprise that he’s the ace,” the first commentator continues. “His form, his precision, and the sheer strength behind every swing. You can feel the tension rise every time he jumps.”

On the court, Ushijima lands with calm composure, barely reacting to the roar of the crowd. His teammates rally around him, feeding off his quiet dominance, while the opposing team scrambles to regroup, rattled by the raw intensity of his spike.

“Rumors say no one has ever come close to blocking him,”

“Would you look at that, you’re trending again, Wakatoshi~!” Tendou beamed, practically shoving his phone in Ushijima’s face.

Ushijima didn’t even spare it a glance. He sat quietly, arms crossed, gaze distantly at the scenery behind the window.

Tendou scooted closer, persistent as ever. “Look! Someone said your spike just ended a man’s volleyball career. There’s even a meme of you turning into a missile. Come on, this is gold.”

Tendou laughed, but Ushijima remained silent.

I don’t understand why people are so interested, he thought. I just spike the ball.

“Okay, we’re nearing Tensei International Academy. Be ready,” Akira Saitō announced, standing from his seat to get the athletes’ attention.

At the mention of the academy’s name, a wave of murmurs swept through the bus. The once quiet vehicle now buzzed with chatter—excitement, and curiosity.

“Isn’t that the one with the massive campus?” Kai whispered.

“I heard they own two Olympic-sized swimming pools,” Jin said, leaning into the aisle.

“Oh, and they have their own currency,” Yunohama chimed in, eyes wide with disbelief.

“No way. That’s insane.”

Akira glanced back at the team, lips twitching into a small smile at their amazement. It was no surprise—they were seeing it for the first time.

After all, this was the first time Tensai International Academy would be hosting the annual volleyball summer camp. Although the official start was still two days away, Coach Washijō had insisted they arrive early so they could have the Tensai players to themselves for a little while.

“And also,” Goshiki added, his voice rising just enough to stand out over the chatter, "It houses some of the best athletes in the country—including the ace.”

Goshiki emphasized the words with dramatic flair, eyes gleaming as he turned to look directly at Ushijima. Every head in the bus swung toward him, like a synchronized movement, their eyes fixing on Ushijima, who sat near the window, unmoved by the sudden attention.

He could feel their gaze, even if they were behind him—heavy, curious, waiting for his reaction.

He had heard the rumors. Whispers that had been circulating on the internet, growing with each passing day, about one player at Tensai International Academy who possessed skills so extraordinary.

It was as if she were two steps ahead of everyone on the court, every move a calculated strike. Some even claimed her vertical leap defied physics, and her agility was beyond anything they'd ever seen.

The video clips that were being shared showed her lightning-fast reflexes, her incredible power behind every spike, and an uncanny ability to read the game.

“Rumors say she could rival Wakatoshi Ushijima,” Goshiki added, eyes still fixed on the ace.

…

“Holy shit, this is a huge court,” Semi said, his eyes wide with disbelief. He wasn’t exaggerating. The volleyball court gymnasium was massive, far larger than the one at Shiratorizawa.

“Oh, you’re early!” Hiroshi Takeda smiled at the team as they entered the gym, his warm gaze sweeping over them.

“Coach Takeda! Long time no see!” Akira called out, grinning as he stepped forward. The two shared a brief side hug, the kind of easy camaraderie that only old friends had.

“I must say, I’m not surprised when Coach Washijō said you’d be having a match when you arrive,” Coach Takeda laughed. “You know him,” Akira replied.

“The boys will be here soon. Why don’t you make yourselves at home? Change and stretch first, yeah? Your changing room’s over there.” Takeda pointed toward the silver double doors near the left corner of the gymnasium. “You can leave your stuff there for now; the bedrooms are still being arranged.”

The team shuffled toward the locker room, setting down their bags. Some of them paused, eyes wide at the spaciousness of the room, clearly impressed by the luxury it offered.

“If this is the locker room,” Tendou said with a grin, looking around in awe, “imagine the rooms we’ll be sleeping in for the next two weeks.”

Ushijima simply set down his bag and changed into his jersey, his focus entirely on preparing for the match.

“Did you think she would show up?” Goshiki asked, glancing at Semi as he too changed into his jersey. Ushijima didn’t need to know the name, to identify who exactly they were talking about.

“From what I know, Tensei's women's volleyball team is part of a summer camp in Brazil,” Semi shrugged, slipping on his shirt.

Goshiki’s eyes lit up at the mention of Brazil. “That is so cool! I wish I could go to Brazil.”

Well, that’s unfortunate, Ushijima muttered quietly to himself, his expression as stoic as ever as he zipped up his bag. Coach Washijō had made it clear: he needed to shut down the rumors about Y/N L/N being able to surpass him.

He paused for a moment, glancing toward his teammates, who were stepping outside the locker room, chatting among themselves. Maybe I should do some research on her, he thought, the idea lingering in his mind for a second. But then, he pushed it aside. There was no point in overthinking it now.

Ushijima grabbed his water bottle and followed his teammates out, his focus sharpening once again on the match ahead. Even if it was just a friendly, it was still a match—and he had no intention of treating it lightly.

Once outside, the Tensei men’s volleyball are now stretching on the other side of the court. They notice Ushijima stepping out and most of them, mostly first year gape at the site of him.

“Haruki, where is Kaito?” Coach Takeda asked, holding a clipboard.

Haruki, the captain of the Tensei men’s volleyball team, jogged up to the coach. “He’s sick, sir. Caught a cold last night.”

“Perfect timing,” Takeda muttered, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’ve told that kid a hundred times—stop drinking soda.”

Across the court, the Shiratorizawa team was scattered across the sidelines, stretching and warming up. A few paused mid-stretch, catching bits of the exchange.

“Kaito Kobayashi isn’t here? Damn it, I was actually excited to block his spikes,” Tendou groaned, lying flat on the floor as he stretched his legs side to side. His tone was more disappointed than playful.

“That means they only have one spiker,” Ushijima said calmly, arms crossed as he looked toward the court, already analyzing. He could see a blue haired man, arms now wrapped around Haruki’s shoulder.

“Or maybe he’s just scared he’ll have to face Shiratorizawa’s ace,” Ren chimed in with a grin, laughter spilling out. Ren Sakuragi—the one spiker left on Tensei’s lineup.

“Ren Sakuragi,” a sharp voice rang out, slicing clean through the chatter and bouncing off the gymnasium walls, “I can’t believe you’re backstabbing sweet, sweet Kaito like that.”

The air shifted—heads turned. The atmosphere thickened, as if the court itself was holding its breath.

But the voice had no clear source. The Shiratorizawa players exchanged confused glances, scanning the court.

Then, they noticed the Tensei team—every one of them looking up.

Slowly, their eyes followed the silent cue, rising toward the gymnasium balcony.

And there she was.

Bathed in sunlight streaming from the high windows, standing tall with arms crossed, the words “Glory to Tensei!” printed in bold behind her like a crown— Y/N L/N.

“I thought you were supposed to be in Brazil—sipping coconuts and swimming with the pros,” Ren called out, teasing from the court below.

Y/N smirked, leaning casually on the railing. “I thought you might miss me,” she replied. “So I stayed.”

The Shiratorizawa team went silent, their eyes widening in surprise. Tendou, who had been lying on the floor moments ago, shot up in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape.

“Wait, that’s her?” he muttered under his breath, eyes flicking between his teammates. His grin widened, both impressed and intrigued.

Ushijima’s gaze remained steady, but there was a faint shift in his posture. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but the sight of her—so confident, so poised—felt different from the rumors he’d heard. He wasn’t one to be easily distracted, but something about her presence drew his attention.

“The flight got canceled,” Emi Kobayashi, the Tensei women’s volleyball setter, replied flatly, her tone deadpan. “We’re flying out on Tuesday.”

As the news about the flight delay settled, Coach Takeda cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Shiratorizawa team and their coach.

“I must apologize for the lack of our spiker today,” Coach Takeda said, his tone a bit sheepish but still composed. “Kaito’s absence has certainly put us in a difficult spot. I assure you, we’re just as disappointed as you are.”

Coach Washijō raised an eyebrow but nodded politely, his arms crossed. “Good thing she’s here, right?” He gestured toward Y/N, who was gracefully making her way down from the balcony.

“What?” Y/N barely caught herself on the stairs, her foot slipping as she almost lost balance. She shot a look at Coach Washijō with wide eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, I look like I just ran through a marathon in a tornado—in sweats and crocs,” she added, gesturing down at her mismatched outfit and wild hair, clearly not prepared for such attention.

The gymnasium erupted in soft chuckles as the tension broke, and even some of the Shiratorizawa players couldn't help but smile at her sudden, unintentional comedy. Tendou is particularly eyeing Ushijima.

“From what I heard online, you once won a match barefoot,” Coach Washijō said with a sly grin, glancing toward Y/N. “And besides, everyone’s expecting a match between you two, Today is the perfect time, isn’t it?” he added, his eyes shifting toward Ushijima, who was standing quietly off to the side.

The moment his gaze landed on Ushijima, the atmosphere in the gym seemed to tighten.

That’s the problem, I can’t play a match against HIM

Miyu: How much do you bet Y/N is crying right now because she cannot witness HER Ushijima play upclose? Natsuki: 1000 yen. Girly pop sis is probably bawling Y/N: I’m still the captain mfs Miyu: A captain in loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Natsuki: im still confused why you liked that guy anyway. Natsuki: Isn’t he like stoic? Emi: Oh god, what did you do Y/N: Ushijima Wakatoshi is not stoic, that’s... ugh, I mean, have you SEEN him?? 😍 Y/N: Like, seriously, the guy is PERFECT. His spikes? Literally untouchable, like he could break a wall with that thing. Y/N: And don’t even get me started on his height. I swear, I have to look way up just to meet his eyes. Y/N: 🤩 It’s like I’m staring at a literal giant. And his focus? Honestly, I’ve never seen someone so laser-focused and still look like they’re cool about it?? Y/N: He just has this presence, y’know? It’s like... he's in another level. 👀 Y/N: Oh, and when he wears his jersey? I’m sorry, but I think I might just die from how good he looks in it 😅. Y/N: Like, how can anyone NOT have a crush on him? It’s honestly impossible! 😳💖 I could go on, but you get the point, right? 🤭 Emi: …

I have a fucking crush on the guy and you expect me to play a game against him—HIM?!

“Y/N?” Coach Washijō's voice cut cleanly through her internal chaos. She blinked, snapped out of her meltdown like someone had slammed a cold towel to her face.

“Can you be the replacement spiker? It’s a shame that we came all this way just for you guys to be incomplete,” Coach Washijō asked with a tone so polite it was almost suspicious—but Y/N could smell the BS from a mile away.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, not from embarrassment—well, maybe a little—but from the sheer absurdity of it all. A sudden friendly match, her Crocs still on, hair looking like she’d fought a hurricane, and now her teammates giving her that look. The kind that said: "Go on, miss hopeless romantic. Your prince awaits."

Y/N gave them a deadpan stare. "Traitors," she muttered under her breath.

One of them winked, while another gave her a thumbs-up. The entire gymnasium seemed to hold its breath, all eyes trained on her, waiting for her response. Y/N's gaze drifted to Ushijima, whose expression remained unreadable, yet there was something in the way he looked at her that filled her with an unexpected sense of courage. This match had been long overdue.

"Fine," she huffed, turning back to the coaches. "Give me five minutes to not look like I rolled out of a laundry bin."

…

“Not gonna lie, this isn’t what I expected from someone whose nickname is The Ace,” one of the Shiratorizawa players murmured, thinking Y/N couldn’t hear. She did. And it didn’t surprise her anymore. It was the same response she’d gotten from every team, every gym, every court.

Y/N was on the floor, having failed to block Ushijima’s spike. Her timing was off, her hands missed the ball completely, and the next thing she knew, the floor was greeting her a little too harshly. “My ass is already flat!” she yelled, pushing herself up and giving her teammates a sheepish smile.

The score was 1-5, in favor of Shiratorizawa. This is good, she had seen enough. The energy in the gym was thick, tension hanging in the air, but she had her eyes on the prize now. Ushijima is next to serve—just as she had planned.

"Place me in the position where, after Ushijima’s serve, I’ll be next to serve," Y/N had told Haruki before the game started.

The whistle blew, sharp and loud, signaling the serve. Ushijima’s eyes narrowed, focusing on his target. With a swift, fluid motion, he tossed the ball into the air.

Y/N braced herself as the ball came hurtling toward her side of the court. From the first six points, she knew they would try to make her receive it. They had seen her slip, and now they were counting on it.

But Y/N positioned herself on the court with an almost eerie calmness, she knew exactly what to do. Haruki had passed the ball with precision, and the setter, effortlessly set up the play, delivering a perfect pass straight into Y/N’s hands. She could feel her muscles tense as she lifted her arm and spiked the ball directly toward Goshiki.

It was a setup. A trap.

Goshiki was caught off-guard. She could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t prepared for the left-side angle. He struggled, misjudging the timing and the angle of the ball. The ball bounced up, too high and unsteady for him to control, giving Y/N a moment of satisfaction.

Shirabu, the setter for Shiratorizawa, dove toward the high ball without hesitation, his eyes locked onto the ball. He passed it up to Ushijima, who stood ready to strike. The timing was perfect for Y/N, and just as Ushijima leaped, ready for another of his signature spikes, Y/N readied herself.

She didn’t let the moment slip.

With a well-timed jump, she leaped higher, positioning herself perfectly at the net. She stretched her arms forward and waited for the impact of the ball. Ushijima’s spike came down with devastating speed, but Y/N was prepared, looking at Ushijima, it felt like time stopped. her hands firmly blocking the ball with precision. The sheer force of Ushijima’s spike collided with her block, and it bounced awkwardly off her hands.

The court was silent for a split second as the ball ricocheted. But the moment was fleeting. The ball didn’t fly toward the Tensai side; instead, it spun off the other side, nearly impossible for anyone to recover.

The Shiratorizawa side scrambled—arms reaching, feet stumbling into desperate positions—but they didn’t stand a chance. They were caught off-balance, a half-step behind, trying to react to a move they hadn’t even seen coming. The ball slammed into their court with a thud. Silence cracked for a moment—then the referee signaled the point.

The Tensai bench exploded with cheers, clapping and shouts echoing across the court. But Ushijima wasn’t listening.

He was staring at her.

Y/N stood tall on the opposite side, her breathing steady despite the heat of the rally. Then, she turned—eyes locking with his. There was no cocky grin, no mocking smirk. Just a smile. Calm. Confident. Unshaken. She turned her back on him without a word, walking toward her teammates.

Ushijima felt his heart jolt in his chest. Not from adrenaline. Not from anger. Something else.

Something dangerously close to admiration or...

…

The final whistle echoed across the gym. The scoreboard: 20–25, in favor of Tensai. Gasps and murmurs filled the stands, mixing with cheers from the Tensai bench. They had done it.

The match had been heated—relentless spikes, brutal blocks, and moments of pure chaos—but Y/N had played it like a chess game. Every move calculated, every fake deliberate. Her plan had been simple, yet ruthless: force the Shiratorizawa players to chase her tempo, not their own. And it worked.

The players lined up along the net. One by one, hands were shaken. Tendou reached her first, grinning wide despite the loss. “You got me good,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear that set was going cross, but nope—dump shot.”

Y/N grinned. “Aw, don’t feel too bad. I only do it to people I like messing with.” Tendou snorted. “That’s somehow worse.”

She laughed, but her voice caught in her throat as she saw the next player. Ushijima.

Her pulse skipped. He extended his hand, silent and stoic as always—but when Y/N reached out, he wrapped his fingers fully around hers. Warm. Firm. Gentle.

Y/N could feel it—her knees almost gave out. Yup, I was going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of the court. No glory, no spike. Just death by hand contact.

“Looks like we finally did what they wanted, huh,” she managed, forcing her gaze to stay on their joined hands instead of his unreadable expression. Her voice tried for playful, but her heart was doing full gymnastics.

There was a beat of silence. Then— “Yes,” Ushijima said quietly. Then he was gone. Just like that.

She finished shaking hands with the rest of the Shiratorizawa team. She was just about to escape the chaos when she heard it. “Y/N~!” Y/N didn’t even have to turn to know. Miyu, Of course.

Y/N sighed and turned slowly, bracing herself like she was facing a final boss.

Miyu stood there with heart-shaped eyes, literally sparkling with mischief, phone in hand like a weapon. “Can you take a picture with Ushijima?” she asked sweetly, voice dipped in fake innocence.

“What.” Y/N froze.

“One picture! Come on.”

“I—what—no—why would I—?”

And that’s how she ended up standing side by side with Ushijima, the scoreboard behind them. Miyu was practically vibrating with excitement as she took the photo. Y/N forced a smile, heart thundering, especially when Ushijima shifted just slightly closer, their arms brushing. The camera clicked.

Miyu: *sent a picture* Miyu: you two look so cuteeeeeeeeeeeee Natsuki: Y/N looks like she going to explode lol Y/N: because i am Natuski: My baby finally touched her husband Y/N: that sounds so weird Miyu: also, i sent it to Ushijima 🤭 Y/N: WHAT HUH WHAT Natsuki: GIRLGIRLLOOKATUSHIJIMA’SIG Y/N: ….djndimsajdbasjda

Y/N abandoned the chat and clicked on Instagram, thumbs trembling. There’s a new notification, @.wakatoshi_ushijima tagged you in a post. Her heart stopped a bit when she opened it.

There it was—the picture. The scoreboard glowing behind them, their arms nearly touching. The caption read: “Well played, @.Y/N_.”.

Y/N stared at her screen, frozen. Her brain short-circuited.

Oh no. She was falling. Hard.

Then a message popped up in the group chat.

Emi: the summer camp is cancelled due to an overlapping schedule. Coach said we’ll be joining the boys’ summer camp instead. Emi: They’re doing mixed scrims.

...

A/N: USHIJIMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA part 2? hehe

Warnings: grammar and cringe (?)

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima fluff #haikyuu ushijima #hq ushijima #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu

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girlgenius1111 · 11 months ago

Text

hard launch

mapi x ingrid x reader. after they confirm their relationship, the public's response makes you feel like maybe you don't belong with ingrid and mapi. an international break complicates the matter, until you're barely speaking to them, and they have to figure out what's wrong; until they have to try to pick up the pieces.

-----

“We don’t like to hide you, amor. We want everyone to know you’re ours. Please?”

The hope in Mapi’s eyes was too hard to resist, quickly transforming into joy when you nodded your head. Next to you, Ingrid whispered a promise into your ear, that everything would be okay, everything would go perfectly. You weren’t so sure. They didn’t seem to understand your hesitation. Of course they didn’t. They were them. Ingrid and Mapi. They were widely adored, together and separately.

Your girlfriends could do no wrong.

Except choose you, apparently.

It was easy to believe them, that no one would care, when you were safely tucked away in bed with them. Feeling Ingrid’s arms wrapped around your waist and Mapi’s lips press into your forehead. They made you believe them; when they told you that while some may have a negative reaction, the majority of the public would just be happy if they were happy.

You shouldn’t have believed them. Shouldn’t have trusted them, shouldn’t have given in when they asked you. A small, very hurt part of you wondered if it had been on purpose; a way for them to show you they were too good for you without actually having to say the words. Logical you knew that was ridiculous, but it was hard to use logic when you were scrolling through comment after comment about how awful you were.

Upon reflection, both of your girlfriend’s would realize the mistake of letting your relationship go public just a few days before you and Ingrid were set to go on national duty. It was a few simple posts, photos that would have previously just included Ingrid and Mapi now including you. You, asleep on Mapi’s shoulder on the plane. You and Ingrid, hand in hand as you walked through the darkened streets of the city. The posts confirmed rumors that had been simmering for months. You remembered so clearly hitting the post button at the same time your girlfriends did.

They’d smiled at you, dropping their phones onto the table without another thought. Yours was heavy in your hand, though, and it felt like every comment that slid through made it weigh more and more. The comments were worse under your post, of course they were. It was more confusion on your girlfriend’s pages than anything, but mostly vile insults on yours.

You shouldn’t have read them in the first place, but you were only human. You couldn’t help but scroll through the comments section late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping, search your name on twitter just to see what your new insecurity of the day would be. It was self destructive, yet you couldn’t stop. It ate at you for three days before you left.

The worst was that they didn’t even notice. Long used to ignoring comments on social media, neither of them saw what was happening, and what it was doing to you. In fact, it may have even been bearable if they’d noticed. If they’d been there to dispel your worries. Instead, they’d remained oblivious, and then you’d all split up for a week. You to England, Ingrid to Norway, Mapi staying at home in Spain.

You always got a bit anxious before it was time for camp, and any odd behavior on your part was attributed to that, both by your girlfriends, and by you. Because while your brain was screaming for you to show them everything that was being said and beg for them to tell you none of it was true, you refused to be that pathetic. They wanted this so badly, a relationship that wasn’t a secret, and you couldn’t ruin that.

Maybe, though, you’d already ruined everything anyway. Each of them felt the odd and unusual tension when they kissed you goodbye earlier that afternoon, but neither of them were there to see the tears that fell once you were on the plane, leaving Barcelona.

If the past 3 days had been almost unbearable, and you’d been with them, you couldn’t imagine what a week of not seeing them would do to you. You weren’t sure you could survive it.

—

It took Ingrid an embarrassingly long time to realize you were avoiding speaking to her. Mapi, less so. It was the 3rd day of a 7 day break, and the three of you had only facetimed once. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t odd. What was odd, though, was the fact that you’d barely been texting them. You hadn’t spoken to either of your girlfriends unless they’d called you, hadn’t reached out at all. It was unlike you, but even then, both of them just assumed it had been a busy break.

At least, until Ingrid got a text from Keira. The midfielder was wondering what was going on with you, if the three of you had been in some kind of fight or something, because you were acting completely weird. Barely socializing, looking exhausted no matter how much time you spent alone in your room. It was concerning enough that multiple of your teammates had noticed, and tried to talk to you about it, only to be shut down.

You were fine, you told them. Nothing was wrong, you were just a bit more stressed than usual.

None of them believed you, but your answer as to what was wrong remained the same. Finally, Leah instructed Keira to just text one of your girlfriends, and see if they knew anything. If they did, perhaps they could give Keira some answers on how to help you. And if they didn’t… well, there was clearly something very, very wrong.

The phone call that followed Keira’s text wasn’t very fun for you, or for either of your girlfriends. Mapi had to ring you three times before you picked up, and even then, your face was only half in view of the screen. After you’d exchanged hello’s, you fell silent. It was a heavy silence, one that told both your girlfriend’s very clearly that you weren’t okay. They didn’t know why, but they were going to figure it out if it was the last thing they did.

After a few more seconds of total silence where they waited for you to say something, Mapi gave in.

“Amor? How are you?” Mapi wondered.

“Fine.” You told her. Short answers, make up an excuse for why you have to go in a minute. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. They don’t need to deal with your emotions, just like how they probably don’t want to deal with you.

“Really? Because Keira told us you’ve been acting kind of weird.” Ingrid said gently. You forced yourself to look away from her wide, concerned eyes.

Fuck, this was hard. But you couldn’t break down. They didn’t need that. They didn’t need you.

“Yep. I’m fine.” You replied shortly, shifting again so the camera only showed half your face.

“Can you let me see you, then?” Ingrid asked. “If nothing is wrong, look at us.”

With a very forced roll of your eyes, you tilted the screen so that your face was visible. You looked exhausted, which they’d known you would, but they weren’t expecting the completely empty look in your eyes.

“Amor, are you sure you’re-”

“María, I said I’m fine,” you snapped, digging your nails into the skin of your thigh at the hurt look on your girlfriend’s face. Guilt was all you could feel, suffocating, maddening guilt.

“Don’t be like that.” Ingrid said sharply. “We’re worried, and we want to help,”

“I don’t need help. Everything is fine. God, can’t you both just leave me alone? You’re hovering and you’re suffocating me and I’m over it. I’ll talk to you later, I have to go.”

You hung up before either of them could get a word out, throwing your phone across the room once you’d done so.

Everyone was right. You weren’t good for them. You weren't good.

The text you received afterwards only reinforced that. Your phone screen was cracked from the force of your throw, but you could still see what Ingrid had written.

I don’t know what the issue is, but if you’re upset about something, you need to stop being immature and tell us what’s wrong. We can’t read your mind. You owe me and María an apology.

Mapi hadn��t even bothered to text.

It was easier than you expected to push them away, which really just reinforced what you’d been convinced of over the past several days. They were better off without you. You tried to convey that in your reply.

I’m sorry to both of you. You deserve better. Don’t worry about me, please. I’m fine.

You were pretty sure you’d never been less fine in your life.

—

Neither of your girlfriends liked the sound of your last text. It was self deprecating, and it just didn’t sound like the you they knew. Their frustration began to fall back into worry, and that worry only grew with every day that passed.

You wouldn’t answer their calls or their texts. None of your teammates could get a single word out of you.

Mapi almost flew out to you when Keira told her that Sarina was benching you for the friendly you had. The only reason she didn’t was because you were coming home the following day.

Keira said you weren’t sleeping and barely eating. The coaches and physios and captains had tried to talk to you, but you just kept saying you were fine.

Neither Mapi nor Ingrid were very sure what they were going to get when you came home to them the next day. No matter how much either of them thought about it, they couldn’t put the pieces together. You’d been fine before you left. Maybe a little weird, but nothing compared to how you were now.

Ingrid had barely played in her own match, too stressed over you to really focus on training. It was a friendly for her, too, and she’d never cared less about a match in her life. Never wanted something to be over more in her life.

Mapi was laying on the couch when she figured it out. Snuggling with Bagheera, maybe wearing one of your shirts, and definitely not stalking your instagram.

She clicked on the comments by accident, but the absolute vitriol caught her eye immediately. She read one comment. Then another.

She read them until she was crying, herself. Until she finally had to close the app before she broke her phone by throwing it or something, and called Ingrid.

—

Mapi was always more active on social media over the international break. She must have been really bored to be looking through your instagram, but that was the only explanation for the text you received with only a day to go until you headed back to Barcelona.

Amor, I think I understand why you’ve been so distant recently. I don’t know how to fix this so far away from you, especially when you won’t answer the phone, but I love you so much. None of those people know you or us. We want you, and that is all that matters. Please don’t be too unkind to yourself. Call me if you can.

Ingrid’s text followed shortly after.

I talked to María, and I went through the comments. I’m so sorry we didn't notice before now, and I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I understand why you’ve been distant, but I wish you’d answer the phone. I love you, so so much. More than you know.

They still cared, and you didn’t understand why.

You were nothing, and they were everything, but that’s not how they were acting.

It was incomprehensible, so you didn’t try to comprehend it. You ignored their texts, and knew that once you arrived home tomorrow, there wouldn’t be any more avoidance, for better or for worse.

—

Your hand shook as you tried to unlock the door, eventually just dropping the keys all together onto the door mat. Swearing under your breath, you set your bag down to grab them, but the door swung open of its own accord. There Mapi stood, her phone in hand like she’d been tracking your location. Just the sight of her had emotion splitting your chest open, tears instantly filling your eyes.

“Corazón,” she murmured, tugging you in through the door as her free hand grabbed your bag.

“Hi,” you said meekly, shutting your eyes as Mapi’s hands came up to cup your cheeks, her eyes studying your face closely. The whole time you’d been gone, you hadn’t let yourself cry. Not one tear, no matter how much you’d wanted to. You’d done everything you could to push every emotion away, focus on numbness rather than everything swirling around inside your head. As soon as you saw Mapi, though, that was over.

You sunk in on yourself, your head dropping until your chin hit your chest, and all you could see was your shoes on the hardwood floor. Tears clouded your vision, and you couldn’t help the quiet sob that slipped past your lips.

It was a testament to how poor your state of mind had gotten in the last week that as soon as Mapi kissed your cheek, you broke completely, a part of you genuinely shocked that she still cared for you. Still wanted you. She drew you in closer, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking the door shut as she did so. You pressed your face into her shoulder, hands fisting themselves in the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“I’ve got you, amor. I’m right here.”

And she was. She was right there. Even though everything seemed to tell you that it should be otherwise, she was still there. She still loved you. The comments she’d evidently discovered hadn’t lifted some veil from her eyes, making her realize how much she despised you, how much better she could do. She touched you in the same gentle way, held you so carefully. She still loved you. She loved you.

Somehow you found yourself being half carried over to the couch, still cradled close to Mapi’s chest. Once she had you comfortably resting with your head in her lap, you tried to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, looking up with wide eyes at your girlfriend, desperate that she understand that you knew this was your fault, and your fault alone.

Mapi just shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on sooner, and I’m sorry there has ever been any doubt in your head that I love you.”

And though it still didn’t make any sense, you turned and buried your face in the fabric of Mapi’s, of your, shirt, and let every feeling that had been trying to strangle you for the last week out.

Mapi was there through it all, her hands stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Wiping away your tears as she murmured soft, sweet reassurances to you.

It was still incomprehensible, but you were tired of trying to understand why they loved you still. Why they loved you at all. You were too tired of everything, honestly, and all you seemed to be capable of was sniffling into your girlfriend’s lap, and drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in 7 days.

—

When Ingrid walked in through the front door, it was completely silent, save for an occasional sniffle. It had been radio silence from Mapi since the time you were due to arrive home, around two hours before her own plane landed. She had no idea what to expect upon her arrival, and the unknown made her stomach twist with anxiety.

She leaned down to pet Bagheera quickly, before making her way into the living room. If she thought she was going to find you to be the source of the quiet crying, she was wrong.

Instead, you were curled up in Mapi’s lap, your head resting on her thigh, as you dozed peacefully. The Spaniard was playing with your hair in one hand, the other reaching up to wipe away her tears. If there was anything Ingrid hated, it was seeing either of you upset; she would get this itching feeling to fix it, no matter what it took. Within a second, Ingrid was crossing the room and sliding onto the sofa next to Mapi, her hand cupping the older woman’s cheek. Mapi inhaled shakily, trying to muster a smile for the Norwegian, but it was a weak attempt.

“Hi my love.” Ingrid whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Mapi’s slightly damp cheek.

“Hi.” Mapi whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

“Tell me why you’re crying.” Ingrid was pretty sure she had a good idea, but she wanted to hear it from Mapi.

“She’s… she’s in so much pain, Ingrid. She believes everything everyone is saying about her. I can’t imagine what the last week has been like and I didn’t do anything about it-”

The Norwegian cut her girlfriend off. “Neither of us did. She didn’t tell us. We should have checked in and we should have realized something was off before we left, but she didn’t tell us, María. She didn’t want us to know.”

Mapi nodded slowly, and Ingrid knew that the Spaniard still blamed herself. Honestly, Ingrid blamed herself, too, and no rational words could fix that. Not when you were laid in front of her, the effects of the past week clear on your face.

Knowing that there wasn’t anything else she could say, Ingrid wrapped an arm around Mapi’s shoulder, pulling the defender into her. With María’s head on her shoulder, and you sleeping in her lap, Ingrid could almost pretend that everything was fine.

In the silence, she could pretend that you hadn’t been subjected to astoundingly hateful comments that had made you doubt the entirety of your relationship with them. If she tried really hard, she could pretend everything was fine.

When the first tear slid down her cheek, though, she knew she wasn’t really convincing herself. Not with Mapi crying on her shoulder, not with you, exhausted, heart battered and bruised next to her. Nothing could erase what had happened, but Ingrid hoped, with everything in her, that it could be repaired.

—

When you woke, you thought you found yourself just as you’d been when you’d fallen asleep, with the environment around you slightly different. It was lighter, in the apartment, with the smell of something cooking wafting in from the kitchen. You shifted, realizing you weren’t lying on Mapi, anymore. Your head was resting on a pillow, two throw blankets tucked around you meticulously.

Low voices were audible from the kitchen, and you rose shakily, feeling weak and exhausted from your breakdown, even as you’d just woken. A part of you wanted to just head for the door. Running away would be the easiest option, because you were quite sure that going into that kitchen would bring about conversations you didn’t want to have. If you could have done anything, you would have gone back in time to two weeks ago, when no one knew about the three of you, and no one had anything to say. Back when Mapi and Ingrid had no reason to question your mental health and your very negative view of yourself. It had felt like they were fixing that, slowly but surely. The response to your relationship had destroyed what self confidence you had built back up, and it was so fragile now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to successfully convince them that you were okay.

But there was love waiting for you in the kitchen, love you didn’t understand but love you craved all the same. And if you walked out the door, you weren’t sure you’d ever find anything like it ever again.

When you walked into the kitchen, it was to find both of your girlfriends sitting at the counter, both looking at something on Ingrid’s computer.

Ingrid turned to look at the sound of your footsteps padding into the room, and any fear you had that she was still upset with you melted away at the look on her face. She got up, practically crashing into you with the force of her hug. One arm around your back, the other pressing your face into her shoulder, she held you so tightly, she hoped it would convey to you that she was never letting you go.

“My love.” She sighed, feeling you sink into her. It was such a relief to have you back in her arms, to know that you were okay and safe, relatively speaking. Ingrid had thought the worry and concern would fade a little at the sight of you, but it didn’t. If anything, it grew. Because you so clearly weren't okay, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed all of this.

Ingrid and Mapi had discussed it while you were asleep; that for your response to the hatred being spewed your way to be this severe, there had to be some foundation to it already in place. For you to so readily believe that you weren’t worthy of them, that you were destroying their relationship, that you were an awful person, you must have had those thoughts before. They hadn’t known that, hadn’t ever known you to be anything but energetic and smiley and happy and loving.

You felt arms snake their way around your abdomen, Mapi’s face come to settle against the back of your head. It was a relief to you, too, to keep being reminded that they wanted you, regardless of what the little voice in your head was trying to convince you of.

They held you like that for a while. Until Ingrid’s arms started to go numb and Mapi’s began to ache from holding you so tightly. Only when you shifted uncomfortably in between them did they finally let go, allowing you to step away from them and rub harshly at your eyes.

It was just hitting you now, the full force of what you’d put them through. And now that you were with them, again, you felt a little silly for how you’d acted. You were younger than both of them, not by much, but that immaturity was clear in your actions over the past week, and you hated that. You hated that you’d made things worse for them when you’d only been trying to make everything better.

“I’m so sorry.” You croaked, desperate for them to know that your intention hadn’t been to hurt them, that you were just reacting in the way you best knew how. They both began speaking at the same time, trying to tell you that you didn’t need to be sorry, but you didn’t let them get very far. “No, I am. I put you guys through hell and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have just talked to you, I know that. I just- I don’t… I’m not-”

Ingrid interrupted you, reaching forward to grab your hand in hers, an almost painfully sympathetic look on her face. “It’s okay. We both understand that you were struggling, and that your first instinct was to shut down. I don’t really understand why, if we’ve made you feel like you can’t come to us with things that are upsetting you-”

At this, you shook your head rapidly back and forth. This wasn’t their fault, they had to know that.

“-we want to talk more, but we want to show you something first.�� Ingrid finished, tugging on your hand until you followed her over to her computer. There was a document pulled up, one they had clearly been pouring over when you’d walked in. Both of them stood behind you anxiously as you read, not sure if their idea was going to make this worse or better.

When you turned to them with tears once again pooling in your eyes, they feared they’d made it worse.

When you flung your arms around both of them, a soft thank you falling from your lips, they knew they’d made it better.

It had been Mapi’s idea to craft a statement, one that she’d checked with her agent and the club’s PR people about. Everyone had been on board, so she’d got to writing, as soon as she’d gotten the okay from Ingrid as well. She’d never post it without your consent, but she hoped that it would alleviate some of your worries.

It was quick and to the point, and you could see where Ingrid had vetoed some of Mapi’s run-on sentences. The two of them expressed their disgust with the way people had been treating you in the past week. They had really only ever been on the receiving end of love from the fans, and this was not what they had been anticipating. You were an important part of their relationship, of their lives. You deserved respect, and they wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Their priority was each other, and you. It should have all been things you already knew, but you were crying like you hadn’t known how important you were to them.

They let everything sink in, let you calm down for almost 20 minutes before they started the conversation you’d been dreading. They watched carefully as you settled yourself in the armchair in the living room, leaving the couch for both of them. The distance you were creating made them nervous, and Ingrid couldn’t help but lean forward and rest her hand on your knee. You seemed to relax a little, even giving the Norwegian a tiny smile in response.

Mapi was, again, the one to break the silence. “Amor, I don’t really understand. Why didn’t you come to us with this? We would have stopped it as soon as we knew.”

It felt oddly like a therapy session, with both of them staring at you from the couch, the spotlight very clearly fixated on you as you began to speak.

“At first, I didn’t want to be dramatic. And then the comments started to get to me and I was afraid that if I brought it up…”

“What?” Ingrid asked softly, bracing herself for whatever you were about to say.

You looked away from them, chewing on your lip. “I was afraid you’d agree with the comments and break up with me. I was afraid you were just with me because you didn’t know how to end it. I was just really scared you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the rug underneath you, even when Ingrid grabbed your hand and pulled on it, eventually pulling so hard you gave in and got up, settling in between the two of them on the sofa. Gentle fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at Mapi.

“How could we not love you?” She asked incredulously. Her disbelief settled something in you, and you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shirt and let yourself relax, but you knew you had to help them understand.

“I’m not good enough for either of you. I’ve never understood why you want me, and-”

“Stop.” Ingrid cut in, shifting so that she could look you in the eye. “How long have you been feeling like this? Longer than just since the comments?”

You nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You knew they didn’t like you keeping things from them, and this was something rather important. “Since the beginning. I love you both, but I’ve never understood why you love me.”

Both of them were completely silent for a moment, long enough for you to get nervous. “It’s okay, really. I’ve always been like this.”

“Unkind to yourself?” Mapi asked quietly.

You turned your attention back to her. “Realistic.”

She scoffed, taking a few calming deep breaths. “That is not realistic. Not at all. We tell you we love you and you don’t believe us?”

“No, María, I believed you, I just didn’t get why. It never made sense to me because you are both so perfect.”

Ingrid squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to her. You wished they’d sit in front of you or something, so you didn’t have to turn back and forth like you were watching a tennis match.

“The way you think about yourself is ridiculous. If we are perfect, so are you.” Ingrid said, her hand cupping your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. “You aren’t tricking us into loving you. We just love you. We aren’t going to change our minds about that.”

She kissed your lips gently, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her kisses, her touch, until that moment. Mapi’s voice in your ear stopped you from leaning forward and capturing Ingrid in another kiss.

“I know this isn’t something you can change overnight, how you think about yourself. But I want you to try, okay? I want you to really try for me.”

You nodded, shutting your eyes tightly. You could try. For them, even if you weren’t sure you deserved it.

“I will.” You promised. “If you both promise that you won’t stay with me if you stop loving me. That if I’m not what you want anymore, you’ll-”

“We won’t ever stop loving you. There is no we without you, love. There is just us.” Ingrid told you, her green eyes boring into yours, making it hard to come up with a response.

“We choose what’s best for us. And we choose you. You are good enough, mi amor.” Mapi promised. Her whisper in your ear sent a shiver down your spine, the words filling you with the sensation of being loved. So much love, you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

“You are good.” Ingrid emphasized, her lips pressing repeated kisses onto your temple. “You are good, and we love you so much.”

It didn’t feel as incomprehensible anymore.

“We want you to love you too. Whatever it takes to convince you that you are good and loved, amor, we’ll do it. Okay?”

You nodded, turning to press a kiss to Mapi’s lips. Ingrid buried her face in your neck, and you wondered how you’d ever considered walking out the door. You belonged here, with them. They chose you, and that was all that mattered.

—

i have no confidence that this is good BUT🤞 i hope you all like this one. it was a labor of love... i think i like it?? who knows.

normally bailey builds up my confidence before i post a fic but she's on a very well deserved fun super cool trip and i don't want to interrupt her so please tell me this doesn't suck! lie if you must!

love to you all 🥰🫶🏻

[also as always, tell me if you find any typos 😇]

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader

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crocodile-tears-and-a-dream · 6 months ago

Text

excuses..

summary: the two of you stopped at an inn after a long night of travel, but there was only one room..

pairing: geralt of rivia x gn!reader

warnings: they're stupid, fluff

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i haven't written anything that's not a crack fic or a screenplay in ages. this is my attempt at fixing my bad writing, any constructive feedback is welcome!

it was stupid, borderline pathetic, how the two of you tried to find any reasoning at all that cold winter night.

you and geralt had been traveling for quite some time trying to get to the famous kaer morhen. he needed to gather more elixirs and supplies for future battles and monsters, but the weather became too harsh to keep going up the mountains. tonight seemed particularly frigid, so you both decided to stop at an inn rather than camping outside like usual.

as you walked in, the warmth from the fireplace consumed the small space of the room, a stark contrast from the conditions you came from. a frail-looking old man sat at the counter bored, instantly sitting up as he watched geralt’s large form stomp through the quaint lodge. you followed closely behind as he made his way to the reception desk.

“we need two rooms.” the white wolf grunted tossing a bag of coins on the counter. (haha.. I'm not funny)

“yes of course,” the old man says snapping out of his stupor. he flipped through his log book and lets out a sigh. “unfortunately we only have one room left”

“we’ll take it”

you weren't given much of an option and the innkeeper had already handed you the key. it's not like you were disappointed though. you had developed quite the attraction for the silvered-haired witcher during your travels together. you would never admit it out loud, but the longing gazes and lingering touches the two of you often shared meant something more. at least to you it did.

it was a silent walk up to the room. neither of you knew what the other was thinking, but maybe that was for the better. it was selfish the way you hoped there would be an excuse to hold him close as the night grew colder.

the door creaked open and your heart sunk a little as you took in your surroundings. the room was beautiful, yes. the nicest thing you had stayed in for months but, there was one problem.

there were two beds.

geralt, oblivious to your internal conflict, stepped further into the room and dropped his belongings onto the bed nearest the window. the soft creak of the mattress, as he sat down, snapped you out of your thoughts, and you busied yourself by removing your cloak, shaking off the snow that clung to the edges.

“we should get some rest,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “the snow will calm by morning, and we’ll need to leave early.”

you nodded, avoiding his gaze as you placed your things on the other bed. the room was quiet except for the sound of the wind howling outside and the faint crackle of a small hearth in the corner. the heat was soothing, but it did little to calm the restless energy swirling within you.

as geralt began to undo his armor, his movements slow and deliberate, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. the firelight danced across the sharp lines of his face and body, casting shadows that only made him seem more otherworldly. he caught you staring, and for a moment, his golden eyes met yours.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he observed, his tone softer than usual. never in a million years could you have imagined a time where geralt spoke more than you. i guess there's a first time for everything you thought to yourself

“i’m just tired,” you lied, forcing a small smile.

he nodded but didn’t look away, as if he was trying to read something hidden in your expression. the weight of his gaze made your heart race, and you quickly turned back to your belongings, fumbling with your pack.

“get some sleep,” he said finally, his voice low but gentle. “we’ve got a long day of travel tomorrow.”

you nodded again, slipping under the blankets of your bed and turning your back to him. but as you stared at the wall, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just as restless as you.

a couple of hours passed, and the two of you drifted into a deep slumber. your dreams took you to familiar places—snow-covered trails, battles against monsters, and the quiet moments by the campfire when words weren’t needed. but more than anything, you dreamed of him. his sun kissed eyes, his rare smiles, and his strong presence always keeping you safe.

then the dream shifted. the warmth of the campfire turned into an oppressive heat, the orange glow becoming flames roaring at the edges of your vision. your heart raced as the bed beneath you ignited, the fire consuming the blankets and wood. the panic felt so real, and you jolted awake, gasping for breath.

except it wasn’t just a dream.

flames flickered at the edge of your bed, small but growing, their heat unmistakable. you scrambled out of bed, the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. the realization hit you like a cold slap: you had caused this. your magic, tied so deeply to your emotions, had manifested the fire from your nightmare.

“geralt!” you called instinctively, but you didn’t wait for him to wake. your hands moved on their own, summoning a stream of water from thin air. the magic poured from your fingertips, dousing the flames before they could spread further. steam rose in a hiss, and the smell of scorched fabric lingered in the air.

geralt sat up abruptly, his sword already in hand, instincts sharp even in the haze of sleep. his eyes darted around the room before settling on you, still standing with trembling hands and remnants of magic fading from your fingertips.

“what happened?” he asked, his voice low but alert, eyes narrowing in concern.

“i—i had a nightmare,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “and I... i think my magic got out of control.”

he stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides clearing some of the smoke with his arms along the way. his gaze flickered between you and the damp, charred edge of the bed, realizing the situation.

“are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softening as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

you shook your head, swallowing hard. “no. i’m fine. i put it out before it got worse.”

he studied you for a moment, his hand lingering as if to steady you. “you should’ve woken me,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “fire magic is dangerous if you’re not careful.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you whispered, guilt creeping into your voice.

“i know,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder before he stepped back. “but you handled it well.”

he looked at the scorched bed and then back at you. “you need rest. take mine.”

“what about you?” you asked, still shaken.

“i’ll manage,” he said simply, dragging a chair toward the hearth and settling into it, his sword resting across his lap. “just... sleep. i’ll keep watch.”

you hesitated, the weight of his gaze grounding you. slowly, you nodded and climbed into his bed, the lingering warmth of his presence oddly comforting. his scent lingered on the pillow and you found yourself wanting more.

"wait-" you called, your voice wavering slightly as you sat up in bed, unsure of the words you were about to say.

geralt looked up at you, his honey-dripped eyes still sharp but softer in the dim light. he waited, allowing you to speak, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

"you're going to be tired tomorrow if you don't rest now..." you hesitated for a moment, but the quiet need gnawing at you grew stronger. "we can share the bed, i don’t mind."

you could feel the tension between you two, both of you trying to navigate the line between comfort and something more. geralt's gaze flickered to the bed, and for a moment, you saw a flash of hesitance cross his face. but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that familiar stoicism.

“are you sure?” he asked quietly, his voice low and careful, like he was weighing the words carefully.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak again. you didn't need to, though; your eyes, pleading and vulnerable, said enough. there was no turning back now.

geralt gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, settling back slightly as you climbed into the bed next to him. his body remained rigid, keeping a respectable distance, but the air between you was charged with something unspoken. neither of you said anything, but the shared warmth in the bed was all that mattered. you could feel his presence beside you, close enough to touch, but not quite allowing it. as you lay there, facing your back to him, your heart raced with the knowledge that, despite the stillness of the night, something had shifted.

before long, the warmth and the sound of his breathing lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. the tension in your body melted away, and the darkness of slumber took over.

but geralt stayed awake a while longer, his gaze never leaving your form. he couldn't help but watch, the softness in his expression betraying his usual guarded demeanor. as the hours passed, something inside him shifted, a quiet longing he’d tried to ignore.

slowly, he moved, as though pulled by some invisible force. he gently shifted closer, his arm slipping around you instinctively. his body molded to yours, and without a second thought, he held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield.

the movement was so subtle, you barely registered it in your sleep. but your body, so attuned to his presence, naturally relaxed against him. his heart beat steadily behind you, his grip possessive but not tight, just enough to keep you there, pressed perfectly against his chest.

and maybe- just maybe, you would never find out that it was him who set your bed ablaze finding it the simplest excuse, in his mind, to hold you close.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia fic #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia oneshot #witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

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pinksplace · 11 days ago

Text

Tell Me I’m Your National Anthem

Bucky Barnes x Campaign Manager! Reader

Summary: Bucky wasn’t sure when this campaign stopped being about winning, and starting being about spending time with you.

Word Count: 16.8K

Authors Note: first fic in almost five years!! I’m back from retirement. Anyway, yes I know Bucky’s hair was long in thunderbolts but I don’t care!

Warnings: cursing, inaccuracies about American politics (it’s been along time since I was in a social studies class okay?), gratuitous use of italics, yearning, Alpine, mention of St*ve, and light violence, no use of y/n

You’d always liked a challenge.

As a kid, if the teacher said to write six paragraphs, you’d push yourself to ten. In college, you had interned all four summers, double majored in Political Science and Marketing. Worked full time and still graduated with honors. You even made time to go to like three parties.

Nothing changed when you got into politics.

You took the first job you could get your hands on out of college, and have been running since.

Unfortunately you’ve been running with some of the most infamous assholes Washington has ever seen.

You had a talent for fixing campaigns, tweaking strategies, and saving reputations. This unique skillset was perfectly suited to saving the careers of politicians with questionable tweets, and more often than not, bright red, southern roots.

It wasn’t the “making the world a better place” politics you had dreamed of, you still hoped that a few of the assholes who had hired might find it in themselves to make a few good decisions while in office.

That was until you started working for Bucky.

James Buchanan Barnes -former Avenger or something- was running for Congress and had asking your help.

Or more accurately, his Campaign manager was begging for it. An old friend, who was lucky enough to work with all of the good, kind people, you wished would hire you. All the people your candidates kept beating. You’d never had someone beg you to take their job before. So you agreed, part curiousity and part hope that maybe for once you’d get to see the side of politics you used to believe in.

You didn’t get your hopes up though. Preparing for the cycle to begin again. Another politician with skeletons in need of closets. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, and nothing you weren’t equipped to handle.

Oh how happy you were to be wrong.

Other than having no media training, Bucky Barnes was a good man. All of his baggage had already been aired out for the entire nation to see. It was a much welcome change. You’d always been paid to hide secrets, not use them.

However, this meant the Nation already had an opinion of him. Bucky’s reputation ranged from admired hero to public enemy number one. Nevermind the small subset of Winter Soldier fanatics who studied his every move and then dissected it all online.

You had spent a solid six hours just combing through forums to try and understand whether they loved or hated him. You finally gave up after finding one entirely dedicated to different versions of his prosthetic arm.

The only information this research did reveal was that people really, really like photos of him from his time in the service. The government’s Captain America archives made them easy to find.

Just like that your newest strategy was born. You didn’t like to lean so heavily on the veteran angle, but this felt like special circumstances. One of the first fundraising efforts you lead, was simply a release of t-shirts with him in his army fatigues on it. It sold out in twelve minutes.

Unfortunately, sepia stained Polaroids can only do so much heavy lifting.

While there’s no gentle way to tell someone ‘you’re perfect, now change everything’ Bucky took it well. Not enthusiastically, but he was open, which is all you could ask for. He didn’t grumble once when you sent him to an eight hour “media-training boot camp.”

He didn’t even argue when you picked him up afterwards and drove him to a Barber.

All things that further cemented his status as your favorite client.

Watching his hair fall to the floor broke a little piece of your heart. Alas, the short hair had tested better in focus groups, so off it came. It made more sense message wise too, helping consolidate the image of the 40’s soldier and this modern counterpart. Removing as many similarities to the Winter Soldier as you could afford.

“Can you take a little more off the back?” You ask. It’s easily your third interruption and you can almost hear the Barber roll his eyes.

“That okay?” You ask, the question directed at Bucky this time.

Favoritism aside, you were still deeply uncomfortable around each other. At least that’s how it felt. It had only been three weeks, but he was a quiet type. You were used to working with braggadocios, they always told you where you stood.

Bucky liked to watch. Usually giving you one word answers, if that. His stare is what made you uneasy, the weight of his attention was enough to make you falter. Not knowing what it meant was enough to make you second guess, you need to know what it means. Which means you need to know him. Then there was the handsomeness factor.

Today was exposure therapy. You’d worked with plenty of attractive clients before, none that made you fight a blush from eye contact. But that’s okay.

You’ve always liked a challenge.

“It’s just hair.” He replies, voice even and unemotional.

For a second you’re afraid the conversation will end as quickly as it started. You’re about to escape into your phone when Bucky finally makes eye contact with you in the mirror. You’re sitting against the wall behind him, close enough to watch, far away enough that you don’t have to smell his stupid fucking delicious cologne.

Professional distance.

“Besides. You’re holding my reputation in your hands. Whatever you want.” He smiles, as much as Bucky knows how to smile.

Whatever you want. That’s tempting, and three of your favorite words. Especially when coming from a man.

Stop. Professional.

“So if I suggested frosted tips?” You say, raising your eyebrows.

He huffs, it’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to a laugh.

The barber is nearly done, the effect the cut has on Bucky’s face already dramatic. He looks, young. Or at least the age he would’ve been if it wasn’t for all of- everything.

It’s still a little wet, you can see the ends curling as the barber combs through them and lifts them up to trim. You wonder if he left it long, if someone taught him how to take care of it, would it curl?

You do your best to ignore the stray drop of water that glides down the back of his neck, ghosting over his (now) perfect hairline.

The chair spins around to face you. The barber standing behind it with a satisfied smile, holding the comb triumphantly and letting out a little “Ta da!”

Bucky raises a eyebrow, and you’re startled when you realize- He’s waiting for your approval.

Your stomach burns with satisfaction. You like that a little too much too.

You nod, standing and walking over Bucky, and subsequently the barber. You smile, then hold out your hand.

“You mind?” You ask, though your tone makes it clear it’s not a question.

The barber grunts, giving you the comb and walking with a huff into the back of the shop, leaving you and Bucky alone.

You had called ahead, made sure they’d have the building cleared so you’d be the only ones inside during Bucky’s appointment. Too many variables and prying eyes otherwise.

Wordlessly, you begin to cut. There’s not much to trim, but the barber had left a few stray hairs, and his sides were uneven, which would’ve driven you crazy. It was a short cut, a little left on the top, specifically the front. Enough to let it sit naturally, but also long enough he could style with a smidge of a gel. Versatile, easy to manage for Bucky’s sake.

Then you look down at Bucky, realizing you had neglected to turn him back around, and find him already studying you. Suddenly feeling sheepish, you take a step back, spinning him around to get his opinion.

“You fixed the sides.” He says. You wait for noted but it doesn’t come. You realize that’s probably the closest you’d get to a compliment.

You reach over, putting the comb back and grabbing a small bit of gel. You rub it between your hands and before you can overthink it, run your hands through his hair. Giving the front a little bit of quaffing.

Almost satisfied, you put your hands down on the back of his chair. “You still trust me?”

Bucky lifts a hand to his beard, it’s scruffy, and while you don’t mind that (not even a little). It’s not exactly the look you’re going for.

“You can do it yourself, if you want?” You offer, very aware that this may count as over stepping.

He shakes his head, dropping his hand back into his lap. “I trust you.”

You reach over, grabbing a razor from the station and attaching the 4mm guard. “The beard has tested well, specifically with your female constituents.” Fancy excuse for it would make you sad to shave it all off. “We don’t want to lose it all, just polish it a little.”

Bucky hums, lifting his chin to give you a better angle as you finally switch the it on. The way it shakes to life in your hand once again reminds you of all the faith he has in you. All of his eggs, super glued into your basket.

The buzzing goes quickly. Bucky is inhumanly still. While it normally unsettles you, you can’t help but be grateful. Especially given the next step.

You shut off the buzzer, and reach into the barbicide glass to grab the straight edge razor.

Thankfully in the time it takes you to finish prepping the razor, Bucky has grabbed the oil from the counter and applied it himself.

You give him a moment to settle back into the chair, and wait for him to give the ‘go ahead’ nod.

Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves, you start on the top of his beard, tightening the edges just under his cheek bone until the form a sharp, smooth line.

“Are you normally this…” Bucky trails off, freezing as you get close to his nose, and subsequently his lips in all their blush pink glory (Not that you’re paying any attention to them).

“Hands on?” You offer, pulling back and cleaning the razor. It gives Bucky a chance to release the breath he was holding. He nods.

You hum. “Not, normally this literally. But yes.” You shape the other side as you speak, triple checking that they’re even. “I don’t normally have this much creative control though.”

“Does that make me a pushover?” He asks. Another borderline smile dancing on his face.

You use a finger to tilt his chin up, making sure to avoid eye contact as you do so. “Makes you the smartest client I’ve ever had.”

“Sweet talking won’t get you frosted tips.”

“Was worth a shot.”

You’re pleased to find that the more you talk, the easier it gets. However, the weight of your current position, isn’t lost on you. His attempts at breezy conversation isn’t enough distract you from the fact that his neck is ramrod straight. He’s hardly even breathing.

He must see you noticed his tension, “Haven’t let someone else shave me since before I was shipped out.” He explains, interrupting your study of his breathing patterns. “The first time.”

Shit. He really does trusts you.

It’s almost too much, overwhelming. This man who has been dragged through hell, is sitting here and letting you use a Sweeney Todd style razor on his neck.

You’re not sure what to say, how to acknowledge the hefty implications in his words. Trusting you with his career is one thing, this is his way of saying he trusts you with his life. You hum, your next swipe with the razor extra gentle.

You fall back into a comfortable silence as you finish. Drawing sharp lines to his neck until the edge of his beard is snug against his jaw. A neck beard is an enemy of the state as far as you’re concerned.

“All done.” You say, turning around and moving out of Bucky’s way so he can finally see his reflection. “A number two guard on your razor will keep it around this length.“ You offer while compulsively cleaning up the Barber’s station. You’re sure he’s watching you from the doorway of whatever room he disappeared into. But the only eyes you can feel on you are Bucky’s. “If you like it, that is.”

You finally turn back around to face him. You don’t know if he likes it, but it’s safe to say it’s exactly what you were going for. He looks cleaner, more professional, more like a politician.

But still Bucky.

All he does is hum in response, and your stomach drops to the floor.

He hates it. He hate it’s, he’s going to fire you, and then you’ll be back to helping assholes hide hush money and-

“You do good work.”

Deciding to become, or deciding to try and become a politician was something Bucky had yet to wrap his brain around.

His resume wasn’t that of your typical bureaucrat. No political science degree or volunteer work. Sure there was his time in the service, but last he’d checked the military had changed quite a bit since World War II. He had more experience in fighting U.S. forces than actually serving in them these days.

He knew better than to admit it out loud, but the choice to run for congress, was one he made a whim.

Part had been born out of desperation to leave Brooklyn. Another part was his desire to be useful. To make a good change for once, and do it in a way that didn’t involve voilence.

Bucky just wishes he’d done a little more research.

If someone had warned him about all of the paperwork and bullshit and he had to do just to run, (never mind the pile that would be waiting on the other side if he won), he may have reconsidered.

Bucky hated to admit it, but he didn’t start trying to win until you joined the team

Full of vigor and good intentions, you actually managed to make Bucky want to win this stupid thing. Your infectious energy (and the fact that you were completely overqualified) instilled a newfound confidence in his entire team. Everyone started doubling down on their efforts.

For fucks sake he even let you shave him.

Before he knew it, Bucky was only behind by five points instead of thirty.

Now he found himself in a pickle. Physically he was knee deep in mockups of lawn signs, poll numbers, and focus group answers. Mentally all he could think about was you.

You were talking, making expressive hand gestures as you tried (in vain) to explain what the statistics in front of him meant.

Bucky was too busy thinking about your fingernails to focus.

They’d changed overnight, from a soft pink to a bright eye-catching red. He wasn’t even sure when you would have had the time, you were with him at the campaign office until well after eight last night and you had beaten him there this morning.

“Bucky, do you understand what I’m saying?” You finally broke through, tone half exasperation and half exhaustion.

Luckily, his lack of experience saved him once again. As it so often did when he was too busy watching you, to actually listen. “You know I suck at the numbers stuff.”

Why red? Is red your favorite color? No, he’s pretty sure that green is your favorite, you wear it at-least once a week and your water-bottle has a single green sticker on it.

You gave him a small smile, “I think you could win Bucky.”

Why red? He remembered girls back in Brooklyn who would paint their nails red, talking about how they’d pick it to match their lips. Subtle ways to get a boy to thinking about kissing them. He knows it’s none of his business, but he can’t help the ache in his gut when the thought of it being for a date crosses his mind.

Wait what did you just say?

“I could win?”

“A few strategic events, some well timed social media posts and I think you’ve got it in the bag.” You confirm with a smile, it’s one he hasn’t seen before. Confident, almost smug. You’re good at your job and you know it.

“Holy shit.” Is about all Bucky can manage right now.

You finally sit. “I think it might time to find an apartment.”

He groaned. He had hated apartment hunting in New York. Too many people, not enough leases and he doesn’t exactly have a credit score.

“Can’t have a future congressman living in a hotel.” You say, clicking your tongue for emphasis. “Don’t worry I have a friend who can set you up.”

He rubs a hand over his mouth, feeling slack jawed.

“But, we’re still falling short in a few key demographics.” You explain, “We need to get you back to Brooklyn for a few days.”

He nods, sitting straighter and actually trying to read one of the papers in front of him, “Millennials?” He asks, pointing to a particularly sad pie chart. “I thought they liked me?”

“There’s a rumor on TikTok you killed Kennedy, true or not it’s been gaining some traction and it’s causing some of their trust to falter.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell you they’re not totally off base, but before he can you lift your hand and pinch your fingers together in a shushing motion.

Why are they red?

“Less I know, the better.” You say.

Fair enough.

“We’re also falling short on the older, male, right leaning side of the fence.” You explain, shuffling to bring forward a poll dated from a week prior. “Their wives love you, which means they don’t think you’re a man’s man.”

“How do we fix both of those in just a few days.” He asks, trying to ignore the way your manicured fingers tap against the laminate desk. He’s beginning to think it might be intentional on your end.

“That’s why you hired me.” You smile, “Just have your bags ready for Friday morning and make sure you pack a pair of jeans.”

He nods, knowing better than to ask you to explain when you’re in business mode like this. He hasn’t known you long, but there’s something about seeing you in your element that makes you shine a little brighter.

“I could win?” He finally doubles back, still not sure it’s entirely he believes it. Still not sure he wants it to. Still wondering why are your nails are red.

“Bucky, You have me on your side. You’re going to win.”

You had a friend at a local pet rescue in the city, and to say he owed you a favor would be an understatement. Getting them to let Bucky host an event was easy.

Getting Bucky to agree was even easier.

As always, your instincts had been right on the money, and it was a perfect match. Animals are an easy win with Millennials, if you only you could have gotten him a puppy interview.

The event was a huge success anyway, truly a publicists wet dream. The people loved him, and after only being there for an hour, a majority of the available cats had already been adopted.

Never mind the visuals, since arriving Bucky hadn’t gone five minutes without a cat in his arms.

“Had one back in the day, used to kill the rats in our building and sleep at my feet.” He had explained as he casually picked up a black little soot ball in his right hand, while the left deftly scooped up a little grey tabby. Each cat a limp noodle in his arms.

His big, strong, straining through the sleeves of his button up arms.

It’s not your fault, you’re pretty sure theres some kind of law about men being allowed to look this good while holding a baby- dog, cat, or human.

You change your train of thought, getting ready to go find the intern with the good camera and ask them to snap some candids of Bucky with the animals. When a voice stops you.

“Hey stranger.”

Jack.

Your ‘friend’ or more accurately, ex-boyfriend/shelter contact. You had hoped he wouldn’t bother coming, so you wouldn’t have to bother having this conversation.

“Jack! How are you?” You smile, turning around to face him, which sadly meant turning your back to Bucky (just as he was picking up a little scrawny, white kitten). Your people-pleaser smile in full effect as you bring him into a half-hearted hug.

He squeezes you back with a lot more enthusiasm than the interaction warrants. “It’s so good to see you!” He says, dragging out the ‘so’ for emphasis. “You’re a big shot now. Working with an Avenger and everything.”

You fight the grimace, you’d already been well established when you met Jack, he was just completely politically uneducated and didn’t believe in watching the news because ‘If something is that important, I’ll hear about.’

He also didn’t know the difference between Senate and the House of Representatives.

In hindsight it’s a miracle your relationship lasted as long as it did.

“Thank you again for letting us borrow some of these cuties.”

“No big deal, it’s a great chance to get some of the animals adopted.” He nods in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like he might be taking one home.”

You turn around, finding Bucky holding the white kitten in the crook of his elbow, the little thing is stretched out with its arms straight above its head, belly up and fast asleep.

You resist the urge to groan, finding a pet friendly rental in DC is a fucking nightmare.

Then you watch as Bucky looks down to acknowledge the kitten, ever so delicately scratching under its chin with his free hand.

Worth it.

“Turns out he’s a cat person.” You say, turning back to Jack.

This time you really take the opportunity to study him, all the ways he’s changed. He’s shorter than you remember. He also started dyeing his hair black. It looks bad. He’s less imposing and handsome than your brain dreamt him up to be.

It’s hard to find anyone handsome when they’re in the same room as Bucky.

Jack still has the same eyes, vacant. Bright and engaging, not a whole lot happening behind them.

You hadn’t ended on bad terms per se. It was mostly a mutual break up, with each of your agreeing your lives were just too different. He wanted a golden retriever, Sunday night pasta dinners, and a house so loud he never has to hear himself think.

You need quiet.

“That cat hasn’t let a single person pick her up since she got to the rescue. I’m not letting him leave without her.” Jack says.

“I don’t think it’ll take much convincing.” You smile. “It’s good to see you Jack.”

“Yeah you too, you look good y’know.” He says

Oh you know.

“Thanks, you look happy.” You mean it. “I should get back to work though. Someone needs to make sure babies get their foreheads kissed.”

“Like I said, you’re a big shot.” He pulls you into another just a little too tight hug. “You think he’s gonna win?”

You give Bucky another look, this time surprised to find him watching you. You can quite read his expression, but you never can. The sleepy little kitten in his arm is pawing at his chest trying to get his attention.

“Yeah I do.”

With that you finally escape, grasping onto Bucky’s attention like it’s a lifeline. You use the few steps it takes to reach him to shoot off a quick text, make sure there was nothing on fire, and then you put your phone back into your pocket.

Looking up you give Bucky a smile. “You know they have dogs here too right?” You ask, tone light and facetious.

“Who was that guy.” Bucky asks, always straight to the point.

“My contact here.”

“He seemed awfully friendly.”

“Didn’t take you for a gossip Barnes.” You smile, stepping a little closer, bringing a hand up to pet the baby in his arms. “If you must know, we used to date.”

He hums. “Seems like he’s still interested.” The kitten stands on his forearm, leaning against his chest while it stretches. “If you are I mean.”

You would laugh if you weren’t so surprised. The conversation was beginning to tip toe on that line of unprofessional, you could hear the sirens beginning to wail inside your head. But Bucky is looking at you with all of his attention as he waits for your answer. It’s the same stare that always makes you melt, so you ignore the alarms.

You’re not stupid, you know what he’s really asking.

Are you interested? Single? Looking?

You’re just surprised he cares about the answer.

“I know he isn’t.” You answer, choosing your words carefully, “He has two little girls at home and a gorgeous wife who wants all the same things as him.” You finally leave the cat in his arms alone, resisting the urge to coo as it reaches for you with its paw. “I wasn’t ready. I would’ve kept him waiting too long for all those things.”

It’s a more honest answer than you would normally give, but it’s Bucky. You feel safe with him holding the truth.

He nods, and you notice the slight twitch of his lips. Like he’s fighting a smile.

“I think I have to adopt this cat.” He says, sparring you any follow up questions. He guides the kitten up to his shoulder, where it quickly makes itself at home.

“I already had one of the interns start the paperwork.” You smile knowingly.

“How do you do that?” He asks.

“Do what?”

He holds the kitten up to his face, staring as if it might answer instead of you, “Know exactly what I’m thinking?”

Bucky knew you only acted in the best interests of the campaign. Each event carefully crafted to boost morale, or fix a statistic you didn’t liked

However, for the first time he wondered if maybe you had chosen this event, just because you wanted to go. Okay maybe it wasn’t the entire reason, he was sure you could back up with a graph and something about polling numbers if he asked.

But after everything you’d done for the campaign, he was inclined to let you have the win. Besides, seeing you in a jersey and jean shorts wasn’t something he felt like he needed to be upset about.

Don’t forget the baseball cap, which it really brought home for him.

Honestly the only thing that really pissed him off about today, was the fact that the first baseball he got to watch in eighty fucking years was a Yankees game.

His Ma would be rolling in her grave, and he told you as much.

“What are you a Mets guy or something?” You ask barely tearing your eyes from the field to look at him.

“Mets?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. He hadn’t found much use for baseball since rejoining the world. Watching it on TV felt too static, but he didn’t have the heart to go to a real game alone either.

“Guess not.” You answer yourself.

“Dodgers were my team.” He explained.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this but they’re on the West Coast now.” You say with an over exaggerated grimace.

“Don’t get me started.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a fan.” It’s not a question, but the way your voice lilts up at the end sure makes it seem like one.

He can’t help himself but take the bait.

“My Ma used to bring me and my sister down to Ebbet’s every Sunday. Could never afford tickets but there was a great park right out the stadium, we could hear everything.” He said, feeling himself start smiling just remembering it. “I’d lay on the grass, close my eyes, and pretend I was inside.”

“I hope you know, I’m picturing this all on black and white.” You cracked, if Bucky wasn’t so caught up the memory, he’d notice that your voice was dripping with fondness.

“Very funny.” He responds.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Keep going.”

“Only got inside once, just me and Steve. We snuck in when we like 15. He was short enough to pass for a kid and I was fast enough to lose security after jumping the turnstile. Best game I ever saw.” He feels himself smiling while he pictures it, “Even though security kicked us out halfway through the fourth inning.”

“You got into a lot of trouble as a kid didn’t you?” You asked, turning yourself in your to face him. While at least as much as you can turn in a stadium seat.

“Steve did, I just felt guilty letting him get in trouble alone.”

“How selfless.” You joke.

“I’ve always been a man of the people.” Talking was so easy with you. Bucky couldn’t seem to stop himself lately.

“I’m sorry but hearing you refer to Captain America as Steve is never gonna stop being weird for me.” You say, taking another sip of your drink. A beer, which had surprised him. He had pegged you for spirits.

“Hearing you call Steve, Captain America is never gonna stop being a total mind fuck for me.”

“Since when do you curse so much Barnes.” You ask, tilting your head in a way Bucky found so cute he thought he might explode.

“Since I have to sit through a Yankees game, sober-“ He nudged you with elbow, reaching over you to tap the bottle in your cupholder, “-and since you’re too tipsy to yell at me about it.”

You shrug, apparently not finding much fault with his argument. “It’s not my fault you have a supernatural metabolism.” You take another sip, grinning at him as you do so. “I don’t get a lot opportunities to drink shitty beer and eat greasy food these days, gotta take advantage.” You finish.

“I’m not judging.” He defends.

“Everything has to be a bit of mind fuck for you though doesn’t it?” You ask. No malice despite the harsh choice of words, just curiosity.

“Who’s cursing now?” He elbows you.

“No seriously. I mean, it can’t be easy, and yet here you are, still trying to make the world a better place.” You lament. For the first time ever, Bucky thinks you might just feel sorry for him. Not because of his past, but because of his decision to go into politics. Which is fitting for you.

“Sure, it’s hard.” He admits, “Ebbet’s is a bunch of apartments, people don’t even go dancing anymore, the Dodgers play for LA, a hot dog costs a month’s rent-“ He pauses, taking a deep breath, “-and Steve is gone.” No matter how many times he says it, it still tastes bitter. You’re right, his entire world had been turned upside down, twice.

“Trying to be good is the only thing I still know how to do.” He finishes. His words hang between you for a moment, and he’s worried he’s said too much.

“People do still go dancing.” You respond.

“They don’t dance the way they used to though. I don’t think I could keep up now.” He says.

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.” You smile, “I’ll have to take you when this is all over.”

Bucky is too busy reading into that last sentence to try and respond to it. The idea that you think about spending time with him even after the election is enough to send him into a tailspin.

A few minutes of quiet pass between you. You shake your head, taking another swig before speaking. “You don’t give yourself enough credit Bucky.” You say, finally leaving it at that.

Bucky is grateful, he wasn’t sure how he had veered so far off course. Somehow he’d managed to ruin a conversation that he swears was beginning to border on flirting.

Don’t get him started on how flirting as changed.

You’d bumped his shoulder and laughed at enough of his jokes that the old Bucky would’ve asked you out by now. But he didn’t know if either of those things meant what they used to back then. He was pretty sure they did.

He was also pretty sure you’d had at least three beers. You’re the closest to relaxed he’d ever seen you. Laughing freely, not worried about optics, or the political implications of Bucky being seen eating cracker jacks. If he knew you as well as he thinks he’s starting too, you probably have some ‘no dating clients’ rule anyway. It wouldn’t be fair for him to make a move now, not when you could finally breathe.

Regardless of if you were flirting or not.

Besides you wearing jean shorts and it was the first time he’d ever seen anything above your knee and staring at your thighs was the closest thing to drunk Bucky had felt in years. He wasn’t of sound mind to be making decisions like that.

“You’re one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met,” You smile, and your hand reaches over to touch his resting on top of his thigh. “And I’ve met a lot men.”

Bucky feels his brain get dangerously close to exploding.

Somehow, he still manages to find words. “It’s not all selfless.” He confesses. Turning the hand yours was resting on upwards and lacing his fingers through yours.

It’s as forward as his confidence can afford right now.

He squeezes your hand and then releases it. Bucky stands up and resists the urge to stretch his back because Jesus, these seats are uncomfortable. He gets ready to walk away, with the plan of shaking a few hands, and getting you a pretzel (for alcohol absorption purposes of course. It has nothing to do with an comment you made about craving one).

Before he leaves he bends over and whispers his last admission in your ear.

“I’m not trying to make the world a better place. I’m still trying to make him proud.”

8:00 A.M.

That’s when your flight leaves, which means it will board around 7:15 A.M.

So you should really be at the airport by 6 A.M. Your entire team has TSA Pre-check so it shouldn’t take too long but it’s better safe than sorry.

That means you have to leave the hotel by 5 A.M to get to JFK in time.

You need an hour to shower, and get ready so you look some version of human so you can hit the ground running when you land in DC. So wake up at 4 A.M.

You look down at your phone and sigh, 10:45 P.M. If you fell asleep right now you’d be lucky to get five hours of sleep.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to move.

Surely it had nothing to do with the man sitting across the table from you. Bucky raises his eyebrows, giving you that stupid, handsome, knowing look.

“Your brain is working.” He says, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip. This time you let yourself stare stare at them.

You had gotten back from the event a little over an hour ago. A charity gala for some businessman’s tax write off. It was a great opportunity for him to rub some elbows, smile and make small talk with all the right people. It was your last stop on his mini Brooklyn tour.

You had joined Bucky, acting as his -strictly professional- plus one. It was out of your normal scope of responsibilities, but Bucky had made a very convincing argument, something about how you were better with names, and faces, and how if you didn’t go he’d end up sulking in a corner all night.

It made the most sense for you to go. Keep Bucky company, feed him names and information. Maybe one quick dance.

It had nothing to do with the fact that saying no to him is quickly becoming impossible.

Definitely nothing to do with wanting to see him in a suit.

“I’m doing the math on when we need to get to the airport.” You tell him.

“Knew it.” He says, “Is that your way of saying we should call it a night?” He asks, but doesn’t move an inch.

He’s giving you an out.

You shake your head. “I’ve done more with less sleep.” You take a sip of your drink. You feel wide awake but you’re pretty sure it’s not from the alcohol. “What about you Barnes, need your beauty rest?”

Bucky smiles, he had shrugged his jacket off when you first sat down. At some point the first few buttons of his shirt had been undone. You’re not even sure when he took the tie off. “Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.”

You had worn a long black dress, formal enough to blend in without drawing attention away from Bucky. It also looked so good on you it was bordering on unprofessional.

You had drank, eaten, and made so much small talk you’d probably have a sore throat tomorrow. Yet when Bucky asked if you were up for a night cap, you once again found yourself struggling to get that two-letter word off your tongue.

You didn’t want say goodbye just yet, and there was something about having him all to yourself that you were starting to become addicted to. So you sat down at a table in the nearly empty hotel bar, and you couldn’t help but think about how you probably looked like a couple to the rest of the world.

“Can I admit something?” You asked, tilting your head.

Bucky nods. “Anything.”

“I didn’t think you stood a chance.”

Bucky almost chokes on his drink. “Jesus, that’s reassuring.” He scoffs.

“You had terrible optics, no political background, and everyone who I asked about you either hated you or was scared shitless of you.” You explain.

“I do have a bad history with politicians.” He cracks. “If I was so hopeless, why’d you take the job?”

Your walls are lowered enough that you give him the real answer. “Needed a change. Didn’t hurt that I thought you were cute.” You take another sip, as if it will hide the heat spreading across your cheeks.

Bucky hums, if he was going to say anything else you don’t give him the chance.

“Bucky you’re my unicorn.” You sigh, cue another embarrassed sip, “You’re a good man, willing to take feedback, and running for all the right reasons.”

You let your words sit there in the silence, biting your lip to force yourself to stop talking. Christ you’re nervous, you’re never nervous, why is he making you so nervous?

“The other guys must’ve been real assholes.” He says, and you know it’s the closest you’ll get to him accepting the compliment.

“This is the first time in ten years I want the person I’m working for to actually win. I want you to win Bucky.”

You wouldn’t normally risk being this honest, this open with a politician, but you were beginning to feel like that word fit him less and less.

Or maybe it was the forced professionalism that was ill suited.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you hate your job sweetheart.”

You’re already rolling your eyes when you hear it.

Sweetheart.

Your heart stutters, your fingers twitch, your face flushes.

“Love the job, hate the people.” You manage to choke out, finally downing the rest of your glass in an attempt to collect yourself. Buy yourself a little time before you have to talk again. “I get the chance to help make the world better, by making sure the right people are in charge of it. But at the same time I’m the reason Whitmore ever got in office.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Whitmore? I fucking hate that guy.”

You nod, grimacing.

Preston Clay Whitmore IV. You worked for him back when he was running for Senate in Texas, and using all of his Daddy’s money to do it.

“It was my first job, I was his communications consultant. God I hated him.” You shake your head, “But I was fresh out of college, green and broke.”

“A deadly combination.” He offers.

“He thought he was the next Kennedy, and he talked like it. Every single interview, debate, and ad sounded like Preston thought he was gods gift to humanity.” You can still hear his catchy little stupid theme song now.

Whitmore’s a comin’ to Whip DC into shape!

“How’d you turn it around?” He asks, a smile playing at those gorgeous lips.

Okay maybe you are a little buzzed.

“I made him drop the Roman numerals to start.”

You weren’t super enthusiastic about him, and you certainly weren’t thrilled about being in the South. Yet Preston’s father knew all the right people, you knew getting him into office would mean a career. A great one.

You don’t mean to bore Bucky with all of the details of Preston’s campaign, of his miraculous win, and how he ended up being elected the youngest Senator in Texas’ history. But the way he listens, the way he asks you questions. You almost think he enjoyed it.

Suddenly he’s telling you about how he recently got his hands on a tape of one of Steve’s old USO shows, and how he wishes he could hold it over his head.

You’re telling him about how you worked two jobs in high school in order to save up for college.

Then he’s promising to take you to Wakanda someday, once things have settled down some, how it’s nothing like how you picture it.

“I’ve got a few friends from when I lived there.”

You swear your jaw almost hits the floor, “You lived there?”

“Yeah for a few years,” he laughs, “They helped straighten my brain out, made it possible for me to almost be like a real person.”

He smiles, finally polishing off his drink.

“Why do you drink if it doesn’t affect you?” You ask.

He shrugs, the glass still in his hand. “I still like the taste of a good drink, that’s why I didn’t bother with beer or any of the crap being served at the game the other day.” He puts the cup back on the table.

“I think it still has a placebo effect on me too a little bit. Even though I can’t metabolize it, I still feel like it smooths the edges.”

You nod, understanding.

You can’t help but finally look at your phone again.

1:45 A.M. Shit.

You look back up and meet Bucky’s knowing gaze.

“We should go to bed, shouldn’t we?” He asks, this time he shrugs his jacket back on.

“Afraid so.” You answer, voice softer than you expected. “You have to go back to your apartment or can you get a room here?”

He shakes his head, “I got a few things I wanna pack up, plus I have to get Alpine ready.”

You smile, brightening at the mention of your new favorite feline. “You decided on a name!” He nods, his smile just as wide.

“Can I walk you up to your room?” He asks, finally standing.

God you almost forgot just how taller he is.

“You don’t have do that Bucky I’m all the way on the 8th floor.” You stand too, at some point you had kicked your heels off and you can’t be bothered to force them back on, instead leaning down to pick them up in one hand.

“Humor me. Please?” He gives you the eyes, ones you can only describe as begging. The ones he uses whenever his not getting his way, “It’d make me feel less guilty for keeping you up so late.” He takes the shoes out of your hand as he speaks, completely dwarfing them in his grasp.

“I guess it is the least you can do.” You joke, starting to walk towards the elevator. You don’t get far before Bucky catches up and quickly takes the heels out of your hand.

The ride up is spent in silence, but not the awkward kind, like the day at the barbershop. It’s softer, warmer and like the air between you is humming.

Your door is all the way at the end of the hallway, and if you were in tune enough with your body to remember just had badly your feet hurt, you’d probably complain about it.

But right now, with Bucky so close so you can’t bring yourself to worry about a blister.

However, it was only a matter of time before you got to your door. While digging the hotel key out of your purse, you turn around to face Bucky.

“Thank you again, for tonight. And for walking me up to my room.” You nod toward the door, still not moving to open it.

When had he gotten so close? Less than a foot was between you now.

Bucky smiles, looking down at the floor, then back up to you. “Least I could do after you saved me from a night of getting people’s names wrong.”

You laugh, it borders just enough on being a giggle than you feel your stomach turn a little. “Seriously, I had a really good time tonight Bucky.”

You feel yourself leaning into him, it’s not entirely conscious. The smell of his cologne is drowning out the voices screaming: Back up! Move away! Too close! Danger! Danger! Danger!

But he’s leaning in too. With him, it feels the opposite of scary.

“Me too.” He says, his voice is so soft now, and you know this proximity isn’t lost on him.

You feel yourself move before you can actually think about it, your heels lifting up from the ground, your hands rising and settling on his broad shoulders.

And then you kiss his cheek.

As you pull away, it’s like you’re stuck in slow motion. A slow sink down while your hands drift from his shoulders to pecs.

Your eyes are shut, too afraid to open them and see his reaction when-

Bucky leans down and presses his head against yours, forehead to forehead. His chest brushing against yours as you each breathe, or in your case, try to. His eyes are closed too. His brows scrunched the way like when he’s thinking really hard about something.

Your body feels like a live wire when he’s this close. All rational thoughts are completely overwhelmed with the desire, no- the need to kiss him.

You angle your head, tilting your chin and just like that- contact.

He only takes a few seconds to respond.

He’s softer than you imagined, catching your top lip between his and treating it with such care and the whole moment feels so much more, gentle, than you had expected it to.

Not that you had been thinking about it or anything.

He pulls away, but you’re quick to grab one of his a lapels, ensuring he can’t go far. You do your best to read him, before either of you can open your mouths and ruin this.

You can’t decide if he wants to kiss you again or apologize. You’re not sure which you want either.

“I don’t do this.” You say, sounding a lot more breathless than you intended. “Kiss clients, I mean.”

“I know.” He says.

“We really shouldn’t do this.” You add, not sounding even a little confident.

“I know.” He says.

“I have a rule about it.” You try, sounding even weaker.

“I figured.” He says.

But Bucky has made up his mind, with his free hand (which had at some point made its way to your hip), he slowly guides you until your back is flat against the door to your room.

Your hands are still frozen, clutching his jacket. Your knuckles almost white with tension. Your noses are almost touching.

“Just one more.” He says, closing his eyes and pressing his lips back to yours.

Distantly you hear him drop your heels, and feel his hand come up to cradle the side of your face.

He’s not as gentle this time, the force behind his kiss is greater. It’s more confident, hungrier. You can’t help but melt into it, hands climbing until they find a home behind his neck.

You’re hungrier this time too.

You feel your body filling with want and need. The urge to bite and claw him, then kiss and stitch him back together. If you were anyone else you could let it consume you. Part of you wonders if he would let it consume him. The way he’s kissing you, it’s like he already has.

When you break for air, you’re suddenly aware of just how tightly he’s pressed himself against you. How delicious warm, firm, and broad he is.

He drops his head against your shoulder, pressing it into the crook of your neck. You feel him release a long, deep sigh against your neck as if he already knows what you’re thinking.

You allow yourself to run your hands through his hair, just once. Working up the strength to get the words out.

Bucky presses one last soft kiss to your neck and then detaches himself from you.

Wordlessly, he picks up your heels, fixes the strap that had fallen off of your shoulder, and manages to grab your long discarded key card.

He fixes you with a look, one that you hadn’t seen before. It’s reverent, deep, and knocks any words you had out of your mouth.

“After?” Is all he asks.

But you know what he’s asking. “After.” You answer, a firm nod to accompany it.

You don’t need to say more than that, as if the kiss had also created your own short hand.

He smiles, and leans forward to unlock your room. Propping the door open with one hand, he waits until you’ve stepped inside it to hand you your heels, and your key card. As if he can’t resist, he also presses one last chaste kiss to your forehead.

“See you in a few hours sweetheart.” Finally he turns around and he leave.

You stand in the door way dumbfounded until you hear the elevator ding, and then you finally close it.

Your typically nighttime routine takes twice the time it should, with frequently interruptions of muttering “what the fuck was I thinking?” and deep reflective pauses to try and remember what his lips looked like when they were well kissed.

When you finally fall onto the bed, the last thing you see is the digital clock blinking at you, or more accurately taunting you.

2:30 A.M.

“Shit.”

Bucky is Dragging.

He didn’t make it back to his apartment until after three, the walk took him twice as long as it should have because he was too busy thinking about you.

What else is new?

However, this time, his thoughts were clouded with memories, instead of hypotheticals. He remembered how you felt beneath his hands. How you tasted. How you smiled against his lips. How you wanted it as badly as he did.

By the time he’s packed, and the cat is finally stowed away in her travel carrier (a mesh backpack one of the interns had picked up) it’s time for him to head to the airport.

Safe to say the lack of sleep isn’t helping his clarity.

He’s trying his best to listen to what the flight crew is saying, Something something cat, something something landing, something something drink service.

He’s too busy ogling you. And too tired to try and hide it. You were sitting across from him, nose deep in a packet someone had handed to you while boarding.

Normally Bucky would try to sleep on this flight, after all he had kindergarteners to read too once he got to DC. Or something, he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’s rushing back for. All that matters is that he should be sleeping, but he can’t because he doesn’t know what you’re thinking.

Since sitting down you’d been able to spare him a glance, and a tight smile, but that was it.

Maybe you had changed your mind? Sure, your agreement last night wasn’t super fleshed out, but he thought the implication was clear.

After, meaning after the campaign.

He just needed to make sure. God it made him feel like a little boy, even just to admit it to himself.

He clears his throat, and waits for you to finally meet his eyes. “You get any sleep last night?” He asks, if the way your eyes droop are any indication the answer is no.

You shake your head, “About an hour, if I’m lucky.” You tell him, but you smile again, this time it looks more like your own. “You?”

He shakes his head, “Too much to think about.”

You hum, and he knows you’re acutely aware of the staff surrounding you in the plane. Each one is either napping or too engrossed in their own tasks, but still too risky.

“You’re in the home stretch now, little more than two weeks to go.” You say. Placing the files you had been pouring over to the side. “It’s a lot to think about.”

Despite the mention of the rapidly approaching election, Bucky can’t help but relax as you talk. “I was thinking about after.” He says. It’s as on the nose as he can get.

Your smile widens. “You need sleep to get to after, Bucky.”

“Too nervous.” He shoots back.

You shake your head, stretching your legs out in front of you, until the toe of your shoe touches Bucky’s.

“No reason to be nervous. It will still be there.”

That was all he needed to hear.

“It’s worth waiting for.” He says. It didn’t quite make sense in the conversation you’re having out loud. But in the real conversation, the one being had under a layer of professionalism, he’s saying:

You’re worth waiting for.

Based on the way you duck your head, embarrassed. He knows you heard the second one.

“Before you try to sleep, there is something else we should talk about.”

And just like that, you’ve slipped back into the professional. Your voice changes in a way Bucky can’t quite define, but he’s been spending enough time with you that he can hear the difference.

“We’re going to up your security, we have three more guards who will be joining your rotation when we land.”

It catches Bucky totally out of left field. “Wait, what?” He asks.

You nod, “I know it sounds dramatic,” you try to appease him, as if you can already hear the argument on his tongue. “But there have been three credible threats made against you in the past forty-eight hours.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Is it really neces-“

“Yes.” You cut him off, “I don’t care that you’re built like a tank Bucky.” He can’t help the smile that crosses his face at that, “I’m not taking any chances.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He relents, and he feels the shit-eating grinning that’s still plastered across his face. “Any thing else?”

You smile, pleased. “The social media team has drafted a post about Alpine- just stating you’ve adopted her and laying on the cuteness factor. Permission to post?”

“Yea that’s fine.” His eyes dart to the seat next to him, where the little creature is curled in a ball. It’d only been a few days, but it was nice to have a cat again. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

You nod, pulling out your tablet and he hears your (now French) nails tap at the screen.

Were they like that last night? He was pretty distracted, but he surprised he didn’t notice. The novelty of getting to touch you had turned just about everything but the memory of your lips to mush.

“You’re going straight from the airport to Howard Stark Elementary. The plan is for you to tell a few jokes, color a few pages, and read them a Doctor Seuss book or something.” You explain, “It’s grandparents day so there will be other people your age.” Bucky would have believed you if it weren’t for the way you started smiling at the end of the sentence.

It was more of smirk actually. Like you thought you were hilarious.

Even when it was at his expense he was inclined to agree. He doesn’t let it show though, keeping stoic until you break.

“Kidding.” You promise. “Then it’s off to a luncheon with a few of the other candidates. You should be done by three, and then you’re free to nap.”

“Thank god.”

“You mind if I put a suit fitting in your calendar for this week?” You sound like you’re asking, but Bucky knows it’s really just your way of telling him it’s happening. “You should have a new suit ready for election night.”

You make a good point. He had plenty of suits, but he wouldn’t mind having something a new for the big day. “Only if you help me pick it out.” He offers, playing right into your charade of his control.

“Of course.” You agree, standing up and your arms above your head. It causes your blouse to ride up just enough to make his fingers twitch. Then you- as casually as possible- look around.

You must be satisfied by what you see, because when you walk next to Bucky’s seat and lean down so you’re next to his ear. He feels your warm breath hit his skin, and the smell of your perfume has the hair on his neck standing up. He almost doesn’t hear what your whisper.

“As if I’d miss the chance to see you in a suit.”

Then you’re gone, turning around and making your way up to the bathroom as if you didn’t just send him into a tail spin.

Maybe flirting hasn’t changed that much.

You were honest on the plane.

Hell would freeze over before you miss a chance to see Bucky in a suit. Especially after the other night.

But it wasn’t just your new obsession driving this shopping trip.

He was going to win. You wanted him to look devastatingly handsome when he did.

You could feel it now, it was completely in his grasp. You were used to quick results, but this had been unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You’d never seen a candidate jump this far into the lead after only two months.

The numbers looked great. You felt confident saying that despite your very unprofessional bias.

Speaking of-

You’d been back in DC for a week and still hadn’t been alone since. You hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it since the plane.

Did that even count?

Sure, you’d stared at eachother about it, and smiled about it, and brushed eachothers hands about it, but no words had been spoken.

Inside this shop was the closet you’d gotten to privacy. Just you, Bucky, and the old man measuring his inseam.

Much to your surprise, the tailor, Eddie, was Bucky’s pick.

Even more surprisingly, the two of them hadn’t shut up since you walked in the door. You had sat down on one of the chairs in front of the mirrors while Eddie began the fitting. Trying your best to figure out who the hell replaced Bucky with this middle school girl.

“So,” you ask, after a lull in their conversation finally presents itself. “How did you two meet?”

Eddie perks up, as if he just remembered you were there. “We live in the same old folks home.” He tells you, just as Bucky is saying “Neighbors.”

If you had a water you would have done a spit take.

“I’m sorry the same, what?” You ask, lifting a finger in Bucky’s direction as you add “just Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, completely oblivious, as most old men are. “We live in the same apartment complex. Lincoln Estates.” He confirms, too busy measuring to notice your smirk. “Boss man over here just moved into the penthouse.”

“Bucky you told me you moved, but you never said where!”

“On purpose.” He says, voice flat.

Before you can comment, Eddie continues. “Yeah it took some convincing to get the HOA on board, but he technically meets the age requirement. Plus I told them having a congressman in our building might actually get the city to do something about the messed up sidewalk.”

It’s like Bucky can see the jokes forming in your head, “It’s an active adult complex!” He defends, jostling so much that Eddie has to pull him back into place.

“Mhm.” You hum, biting your lips to keep from laughing. “It’s a beautiful building, its by the hospital right?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Yeah, it’s great! We also have a physical therapist who works out of the building. Plus, there’s a proposal to add a pickle ball court on the roof.”

You nearly choke. “That’s amazing!” You add, completely overdoing your enthusiasm.

Bucky melts in front of you, his face a brighter shade of pink with each passing comment.

Eddie taps Bucky’s shoulder, “Almost done, just gotta run to the back for a few minutes.” It’s innocent enough, but Eddie winks as he says it.

As soon as he’s gone Bucky speaks, “They were pet friendly.”

You don’t ease up, “Were you not gonna tell me?”

“That was the plan.”

“So you were just going to let me figure it out when I saw shuffleboard in the lobby?”

“Why are you in my lobby?” He fires back.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“There’s no shuffleboard in the lobby.” He laments,“Honestly, the apartment itself is normal.”

“Are there handle bars in your shower?” You ask.

Bucky sighs, it’s obvious he will not be winning this round, “They’re very convient.”

You stand up, walking over to a display of ties. You run your fingers over the different fabrics, stopping when your fingers land on a baby blue one. “Bucky do you know how much of your appeal as a candidate relies on the fact that you’re not an old man?”

“I thought my appeal was being an Avenger.”

“Avenger adjacent.” You add, part of your job is to keep him humble afterall. “Yes, that’s a lot of it too, but so is your physical age. If we take out the popsicle years, you’re about to become one the youngest senators on the floor.”

“Popsicle years?” He asks, making that stupid, cute questioning face he always gives you.

You give him a quick, but apologetic look, realizing how that sounded, “Seriously Bucky, just try to keep a low profile in the building for a bit. Last thing we need is someone’s Nana spreading gossip about you.”

He winces and you fix him with a stern, ‘What does that mean?’ look.

You grab the blue tie and walk over to Bucky. “I promised to bring Captain America to the next Barbecue.” He admits.

You’re standing in-front of Bucky now, so close your toes almost touch. Wordlessly, you bring the tie up and around his neck, tucking it under his collar. “You like it there?”

He nods, “I do.” You can feel the weight of his eyes as you begin to tie his tie. You try you best to focus on the steps, but the way he’s staring makes it hard not to mess up. “They play music I actually know, and treat me like I’m just a regular guy.”

You smile. “Then that’s all that matters.”

He smiles back. Clearing his throat as you finally pull the knot tight. You let your hands linger this time, the way they had wanted too that day in the barbershop. You rest your palms against his chest, finally lifting your chin to meet his eyes.

“Still pissed you didn’t tell me though.” You tease.

“Promise not to do it again.” He says. His tone isn’t quite as airy as yours.

Just as you’re about to back up, his hands find your hips. The short distance between you feels so charged, trying to come up with any words feels impossible.

You have a rule and you already broke it once. You’re not trying to get in the habit of breaking it again, not when you’re so close to the finish line. But you can smell his cologne, feel his breath, and it all makes you dizzy.

You should say something. Tell him you shouldn’t, tell him it’s not a good idea, tell him Eddie will be back any second.

“Hi.” You whisper.

Fuck that is not what you were gonna say.

“Hi.” He smiles back, pulling you just a little closer. He looks down at the tie, “Blue?”

“Matches your eyes.” You try and make it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, a futile attempt attempt to break the tension. You realized it had the opposite effect of when you feel his grip tighten.

“Bucky.” You warn, but still not dropping your hands.

He ignores it. “What if I fire you?” He asks

You laugh. Unable to help it, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his chest. “Don’t tempt me.” You exhale.

He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “One week, then you’re taking me dancing.” He says. You tilt your head up towards him, l body all but melted against him at this point and you give in. Leaning up onto your toes you’re just about to press your lips to his when-

“All right Buddy you are all set!” Eddie’s voice booms as he walks back into the room. You and Bucky jump apart like guilty teenagers.

Bucky recovers quicker than you do. “That’s great Eddie, what do I owe you?”

You pick up your bag, and do your best to try and fight the heat in your cheeks. “It’s my treat.” You insist, reaching into your purse to grab your card.

“No way.” Bucky fights back, his wallet is already opened on the counter.

“I’m the one who insisted you get a new suit Bucky.“ you fight back.

“It’s my treat.” Eddie says. “Consider it your house warming present.”

You can tell Bucky is stunned, “You sure it’s not a bribe to get that sidewalk fixed?” He jokes.

“Next one is free if you pull off that miracle.” Eddie smiles, and then not so gently adds, “Now get out of my shop and go flirt somewhere else.”

You laugh, embarrassed. “Thank you Eddie.” You look over at Bucky. “You do good work.”

“I know.” He winks.

The sun beats down on you as you step outside. Eager to get to air conditioning, you walk ahead of Bucky, joking about how he was going to sweat through his new suit.

He’s about fifteen feet behind you, halfway through a comment about how he won’t miss New York winters (as if DC is that much warmer) when you hear the car come to life. Your hand is a foot from the door when the world erupts.

There’s a sudden breeze, then a flash of heat. You feel yourself fly through the air, before you back crashes into something hard and jagged. Then you hear the blast, the reverberation of it shaking the ground you landed on.

Your body starts to catch up, the rest of the world coming back into focus. Your leg is throbbing and you can feel yourself coughing, but you can’t hear a thing over the ringing in your ears.

You look around, trying to find Bucky, but everything is covered in a blanket of smoke. Distantly, you register the car. The entire frame is on fire and either it flew across the street, or you did.

Then it all goes black.

It was like the entire thing had happened in slow motion.

One second you were laughing, smiling at him like you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else- the next thing he knew you were rumpled against a brick wall, covered in dust, blood, and your leg bent beneath you in a that definitely wasn’t natural.

Bucky was far enough away that he only had a few bumps and scrapes. He didn’t even need stitches.

You weren’t so lucky, and you didn’t even have serum on your side.

Every single Doctor who came to check on you marveled at the fact that you had managed to get away with just a few broken ribs, a punctured lung, a concussion, and a fractured leg.

Nothing absolutely this felt lucky to him. He spent three hours waiting for you come out of surgery. It felt like you had been seriously hurt, and it was his fault.

If he had gotten to the car first. If he hadn’t sent the extra security home early. If he had taken a separate car instead of making some lame excuse about saving gas just to be closer to you. This wouldn’t have happened.

Bucky has never needed help with coming up with new and inventive ways to feel guilty and he had plenty of time to do so while he waited for you to wake up.

As an act of contrition he forces himself to just watch. Watch you breathe, watch your fingers twitch, watch your monitors and try in vain to decipher them.

No pacing, no yelling, no tracking down the men who set it all up. None of the things he’d have done if it wasn’t for the fact that he could hear your voice in his head telling him not to.

Telling hum how violence doesn’t suit him, doesn’t match the Bucky he’s become. A man he’s trying very hard to be right now.

You also keeps telling him to call his therapist, but that’s not happening.

Somewhere around hour two he had taken off the tie, it was dirty, dusty, and speckled in your blood from when he lifted you out of the rubble. Now he just kept wrapping and unwrapping it in his hands, anxiety radiating off of him in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

It’s doesn’t matter how many people tell him you’re going to be fine. Their words don’t change how small you look in the hospital bed, how cold your hands feel when he tries to hold them. The bruise from where you hit your head looks brighter every time Bucky can bring himself to look at it, dark purple staining your forehead.

He’s exhausted. A few hours of sleep would do him a world of good, but he can’t sleep until he sees the whites of your eyes.

Bucky has always hated hospitals. He hated them back in when he’d go visit Steve as a kid. He hated them in the war, when they were just tents help to other by rope and a bandaid. He hated them in Wakanda, when he was getting his bearings, relearning how to be human.

He hated them most, when he was a visitor. Being patient comes with a certain degree of acceptance. There’s a surrender that comes with being a patient too, being able to let someone else make all the hard decisions for him.

As a visitor there is no comfort. He sits in the world’s most uncomfortable chair, and waits. He waits for doctors to come with news, he waits for you to need anything. Waits to to feel useful. The rest of the waiting is just a reminder of how no matter what he believes, what he trains for, or what he does, he has no control.

Looking at you here, connected to tubes is a reminder of why he has can never let his guard down. He knew better than to get close, he certainly knew better than to start whatever this thing between the two of you was. He’s already convinced himself that he’s going to get as much distance from you as possible as soon as-

You wake up, or more accurately you groan into consciousness.

Your eyes crack open, lips parting like you’re trying to speak. At your side your hand lifts, stretching as much as it can towards him.

Bucky grabs your hand, holding it between both of his. “Hey sleepyhead.” He whispers.

You hum, craning your head with a wince towards the untouched glass of water on your table. Bucky grabs it wordlessly and brings the straw to your lips, “Small sips.” He encourages. You nod, closing your eyes as you drink.

When you finally pull away, you fix him with a worried look, as if he’s the one laying in the hospital bed.

“You look,” You clear your throat, “-like shit.” You voice is hoarse. He knows how smoke inhalation feels, like swallowing around glass. That’s without having been intubated.

Bucky is sure his relief is palpable, his entire body unclenches. “Then you probably shouldn’t look in the mirror sweetheart.” He says, presenting you the cup for another sip. This time you take the cup from his hands. “You got one hell of a shiner on your forehead.”

You lift a hand to your temple, recoiling when you make contact. “I’ll get bangs.” You say, not giving it another thought. Dropping your hand back to your side, you take a deep breath, or you try too, but a wince interrupts it. “It was really bad wasn’t it?” You ask.

Bucky doesn’t want to be the one to tell you. He doesn’t want to say that you’ll be in a boot for at least three months. That you’ll be out of work for two. Doesn’t want to tell you that if you had been six inches closer to that car you’d be dead.

“What happened?” You whisper.

Of course you don’t remember, you were ten feet into a brick wall, how could you? Never-mind the concussion to the mix.

“Car bomb.” He explains, “Turns out you were right about needing the extra security.”

“Add it to the list.” You smirk at that, lips cracked from dehydration. You look down, noticing the bump of the bandages around your leg. You bring a hand to your ribs, gently feeling at the wrap there as-well. “Shit.” You whisper.

He nods. “Was worse than really bad.” One of his hands crept up to cradle your hand, two fingers pressed firmly to your pulse. He needs to feel anchored to this moment, to the reality that you’re okay.

He’s fixed his gaze on the blankets covering you, when all of sudden you start to cry.

Your chest heaves with silent sobs and a few scattered tears run down your cheeks. Then you let out a pathetic whimper than Bucky can’t for the life of him understand.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He tries to soothe, moving so he’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to your legs. He brings a hand up to cradle your face, sweeping away the tears with his thumb.

You nuzzle into his palm, resting the entire weight of your head against it while you mumble something.

“Honey I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, buts it’s okay. You’re okay now, everything is fine. You’re only gonna be in a boot for three months! The rest will heal on its own with some rest.” He explains, smoothing your hair as he speaks.

“I almost died.” You explain, slower this time. “And now I’m gonna have bangs when you win!” You add, sounding even more wrecked.

Already thinking about work. You’re still you. Under the scratchy voice and bruised skin, you still have all of your priorities out of order. You still have your sparkle. Something Bucky had spent the last several hours afraid you’d lost.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He promises, “We have a week until the election, no need to pull out the scissors just yet.” He reminds you.

“Six days.” You bite back. The ghost of a smile on your face as you calm down. You nod towards the nurses chart on the wall, “It’s tomorrow, only six days left.” You explain.

“My apologies.” He jokes. Dropping his palm from your face back to your hand.

“You’ve been here all night haven’t you?” You ask, eyes looking him over, taking in his disheveled state. Bucky nods, fighting a yawn as you say it. You give him a real smile this time, all of your warmth directed squarely at him. “Better not be blaming yourself Barnes.”

God, you know him better than he gives you credit for. “That’s because it is my fault.” He admits, suddenly finding great interest in the floor.”

“No.” You say, voice firm.

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t-“ He stops, choking on the words.

“Did you put the bomb in the car Bucky?” You ask. Tone sharp and unyielding. He instantly recognizes it, having heard you use with anyone who tries to challenge you. He’s never heard anyone succeed.

“No.” He answers, still unable to look at you. “But that doesn’t change-“

“Bucky.” You interrupt, “Look at me.” He listens, as always. “This is not your fault.”

He wants to fight with you, to yell that is, to give you a hundred different reasons why you should run in the opposite direction.

“I got hurt, because someone wanted to hurt you.” Knife - twisted. “Both of those things can be true, without it being your fault. Okay?”

He nods, “Okay.” He says.

“It’s my pity party, don’t make it about you.”

He almost laughs at that, there’s something about you that makes wallowing so much harder. Besides, you’re you’re giving him that smile, how could he.

So he chooses to believe you, at least until the voices start up again.

“I talked to your boss.” He says.

“Oh?” You ask.

“Some wannabe congressman.” He elaborates.

“Oh!” You giggle, catching on. “How’d it go? He’s a real hardass.”

“He was tough,” he plays along, “But I managed to convince him to give you PTO for the next four months.”

“Wow.” You pretend to be surprised, “That’s very generous considering my contract is up in a week.”

“Mmm, he said something about that too.” You widen your eyes, “Said he had big plans for you.”

You nod, smiling wide. “I can’t wait to hear them.” The second half of your sentence is lost to a yawn.

Bucky feels lighter as he watches you snuggle into the blankets. It’s hard to resist the urge to crawl in next you, but he’s been fighting those kinds of thoughts since Brooklyn. He hasn’t earned the right to that domesticity- yet.

“You should go home. Sleep, feed your cat. Maybe go crazy and take a shower.”

He nods, already picturing the stink eye he’d get from Alpine when he got home. He still wasn’t used to having a roommate. “A shower is probably a good idea.” He says, standing up.

“Thank you,” you say, and Bucky looks at you quizzically. “For staying,” you explain, “I was so worried about you, waking up and seeing your face was-“ You stop, and he watches you search for the right word. “Everything.”

He leans over, kissing the crown of your head, something thats quickly become a habit. “No where else I would have been.” He answers. “Call me later?” He ask.

You nod, “I promise.”

This was arguably worst than being in an explosion.

Okay maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but never in your career had you been forced to watch your victory from the comfort of your deeply uncomfortable couch. If this injury has taught you anything, it’s that you really need to invest in better furniture. It’s amazing the things you learn when you actually spend time in your home.

You also didn’t have any food in the house, which is why you were still waiting on your third DoorDash of the day. No pity party was complete without a snack.

Back to the torture at hand.

On your screen, in gorgeous technicolor you watched in real time as it was revealed that the voters chose Bucky as New York’s newest Congressmen.

He had given a wonderful speech, short, succinct and powerful, like him. You had proofed it so of course it was perfect. Then as the crowd applauded you watched as the team you had spent the last several weeks of your life managing, celebrated without you.

Blue confetti rained down, getting tangled in his hair, and blurring with his gorgeous blue tie (you had a replacement delivered to him after seeing how ruined it was at the hospital). Sure they had all been calling and texting you throughout the night, you knew they missed you. Almost all of them had already sent you a congratulatory text

Almost all.

The entire day, the one person you didn’t hear from was the person you wanted to talk to the most.

Bucky was avoiding you.

At least you think he is, he wasn’t answering your calls or texts. You knew first hand how chaotic election days were, add to that how Bucky often forgot his phone even existed. A week ago you would’ve written it off as nerves clouding his mind. Two months ago you’d have forgiven it as him having other people to celebrate with.

That was before three things happened:

1. He kissed you so well, you forgot you’d ever been kissed by anyone else.

2. He spent all night at the hospital, waiting for you to wake up.

3. He spent all week texting, FaceTiming, and calling you non-stop. Partly because you were working remotely to get the campaign across the finish line. Partly because ‘he needed to hear your voice again.’

‘Needed too’ until this morning.

He was all vague promises of a plan and sending you cute photos of Alpine, until today.

Maybe this was his plan, ruin you for all other men, and then ghost. You were pretty sure he doesn’t even know what ghosting is, but it’s happened to enough times that you’re skeptical.

To top it all off, you can’t event drink. Your special cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics ruling it out completely. It was a sad predicament, just you, the dry bowl of cereal you had for dinner, and the eleven o’clock news.

It had been almost forty-fives minutes since the results were annouced, and still no word from Bucky. After triple checking your ringer is on, you shut the TV off. It was almost time for your next dose of Tylenol, hopefully it would give you the extra push towards sleep.

Knock knock knock.

For a moment you panic, no one knocks on your door. You don’t know your neighbors, and then you remember.

DoorDash!

Sacrificing grace for speed, you hobble over to the door. You weren’t used to maneuvering with the boot, still cringing everytime time it scraped against the floor.

You opened the door without thinking, looking down expecting to see a brown bag of greasy comfort. Instead you see black dress shoes.

Ones you instantly recognize, you bought them after all.

Your eyes work their way up slowly, clocking the brown bag clutched in his hands. Then the rest of the way to his handsome face.

“Shouldn’t you be at a party somewhere Bucky?” You ask.

He gives you that smile, the one that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah I should be.” He says, and despite how pissed you were five minutes ago, you let him in.

In all your time together you had never felt scared of Bucky. Nervous? Sure, but never scared. Except for right now. Staring at him in your apartment, watching him put the bag of food on down, you were scared. Not of the man, but of your very big, heart pounding in your chest feelings for him. Scared because you had let yourself fall, hard. You had let yourself plan and dream and fall asleep every night thinking about how you would grab him and kiss him the second they announced he won.

Then he ignored you all day. Had he finally realized your organization was annoying? That having a plan A, B, C and D wasn’t called being prepared and was actually called being crazy.

He was watching you too now, and despite your fear, it was like your body came to life under his gaze. A week without seeing him in person made being this close feel electric. Then Bucky broke your gaze and it was like all the sparks died.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to do this in person.” He explains, coming closer.

A sense of doom creeps up your neck as you watch him approach. You’re stuck in the entryway, as if the boot on your leg has become a cement block and your body can’t be bothered to try and move it.

This is it, you think he’s here to tell me, whatever this almost was, is over.

“You’re fired.” He says, his voice is monotone but his face is wearing an expression you can only describe as a satisfied grin. It feels a little tone deaf given the circumstances.

You open your mouth, hoping to find a biting comeback, or even a sour ‘congratulations’ would work, anything to show him you are not on the same wavelength when lips find yours.

Bucky kisses you, and it’s so obvious he had been holding out on you in Brooklyn. He’s cradling your face in between his palms, but this time he’s not holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. It’s not the desperate hunger and grabby hands from New York

This time it’s all softness. It doesn’t take long for you to melt, hands finding his neck and making a home there. You both relax into the kiss, all of the stress, the tension, and blurred lines finally lifted. All that’s left are two people.

You kiss Bucky in until your lungs feels like they will explode. Pulling away Bucky follows you, trying to chase your lips- briefly succeeding, before finally settling for resting his forehead against yours.

You catch your breath, lungs weak, leg going numb from standing on it for so long. lips smiling so wide you’re afraid your face might split in half. Delirium.

“You skipped your party to fire me?” You ask. Tone light, giggles interrupting each word.

Bucky nods and his hands travel to your waist, where they plant themselves firmly. He lifts you and brings you that last foot forward so your chest is pressed to his.. “Knew exactly how I wanted to celebrate.” He explains, lips brushing yours as he says it.

You want to ask him more questions, does he have to leave? can he stay forever? what does this mean? was the food still hot when he brought it in?

Instead you kiss him again. When you break away this time it’s because your lips are numb.

“I know today was crazy, and I should have called you back, I wanted to so badly. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to handle hearing your voice without coming here.”

It sounds a bit dramatic, but he says it so earnestly, you don’t question it. “That’s a good reason.” You whisper, “If you had come here and kissed me like that I wouldn’t have let you leave.”

Bucky tried to kiss you again, but it’s sloppy, both of you smiling too much into the kiss. “You gonna keep me?” He asks.

You nod, shoving the suit jacket down off of his shoulders you can you rest your hands there. Feel all of the strength and power there. Bucky is pliant under your touch, letting it fall to floor with a soft thump. “Yeah, Brooklyn’s gonna need to find someone else.” You answer, “Besides you ruined my job, how am I ever supposed to work with someone else now that I’ve had you.”

Bucky kisses you again, one hand snaking up under your shirt to ghost over your ribs.

“Had an idea for that.” Bucky says he pulling away, but still not detaching. You tilt your head, silently asking him to go on. “Gonna need to adjust my team, now that I’ll be sticking around in DC. There’s one job I need to fill.” He said explains, “You’d be around me constantly, telling me what to do and what not to do.” You smile.

“I do have some recent experience with that type of work.” You offer, “Need me to email you my resume?” You ask, bringing one hand up to scratch your nails down the back of his neck. You watch gleefully as he shivers beneath your touch.

He shakes his head, “You’re overqualified.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Chief of Staff.”

If it wasn’t for the boot (and the concussion) you’d jump on him. Spend every day with him, and actually do good?

“I accept!” You answer, pressing your chest against his, afraid the ball of light forming inside of it will explode if you don’t glue yourself to him.

After months of calculated touches, and fighting your instincts, the freedom to hold him is addictive.

“Thank god.” He whispers and kisses your forehead, neither of you have stopped smiling. “There’s one other job though.” He says. “It would mean sneaking around, and flying under the radar.”

“Sounds dangerous.” You say.

“Mhmm, it is. Comes with the risk of spending even more time with me, maybe forever.”

“Don’t think that’s long enough.” You respond, distantly wondering who is this sappy, boy-crazy girl and what has she done with you?

Bucky squeezes you again, as if he’s making sure you’re still real. “I’ve got a lot of shit to unpack, you sure you wanna take all that on?”

You nod fervently, “I can handle it Barnes.”

He presses one more kiss to your lips. “I know better than to doubt you.”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I have no expectations posting this, I just started writing and couldn’t stop! I love these two so much. Anyway, I hope it didn’t suck, love you say it back

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