#also just realized i did a fade in on all the others and not these. fawk. whatever.......

[seasons-of-death]

bsf!rafe and reader miss each other

warnings: angst aka the one where rafe is in the doghouse. i wanted to try and write a bit of a dual-pov situation of the time after reader ended things, it's a bit experimental for me but i hope it's still enjoyable! this might be a bit melancholic but eh (also i baked two whole pies today let's go baker era i live alone idek what to do with em)

when you were hooking up rafe, every moment without him felt empty. like he completed you. that was partially what made you continue on with him for so long; you were worried that if he wasn't in your life, you'd constantly walk around with this hole in your chest, like a part of you was missing.

but you found that after you ended things, he wasn't the only thing on your mind all the time. sure, you missed him, but what you missed wasn't the sex, or even the almost-romantic part of your relationship, but his friendship. you missed the boy you told all your secrets to, the one who'd been your shoulder to cry on for as long as you could remember. but a part of you wasn't completely sure if that boy even existed anymore.

you knew that the boy who'd passed notes with you all throughout your middle school and high school years wouldn't do what he did to you. or the boy who let you stay at his house whenever your parents argued, and stay up with you trying to comfort you.

when you had been involved with him, you never told anyone; when your friends asked you where you always disappeared off to, you said you were just 'meeting up with a guy' and none of them really cared enough to pry, and only after did it end did you realize how shallow most of your friendships felt. none of them even noticed when you'd shut yourself away, or the fact that you started to distance yourself from everyone.

except for one.

one friday evening, the doorbell rang and you forced yourself to go open the door, only for it to reveal vivian, someone who you'd pretty much known since kindergarten, holding up two bottles of wine. "i'm not gonna leave before you tell me what's wrong with you." she said, and even though you knew she'd probably judge you for everything that went down, you also knew you couldn't hold onto it all.

and so the two of you ended up laying on your bed, drinking straight out of the bottle, with you recounting the whole story to her, without vivian interrupting you even once. and even though it was only one person, it made all the difference in the world.

"jesus, what a dick!" was the only thing he said when you were done, the two of you bursting into laughter.

but as time went by, you slowly started to miss him less and less, and as the marks he had littered all around your body started to fade, so did your longing for him.

sometimes you'd see him when you were out; it was mostly at the country club, or whenever one of your friends had convinced you to come to a party, and to let loose. but whenever you saw him, you never said a word to each other, you never even smiled. but for a brief moment, as you stared at one another across the room, it was as if it was just the two of you, lying on the floor of his living room, surrounded by beer bottles and used plastic cups, remnants of yet another party.

but as soon as one of you looked away, the moment faded away, like you two had never known each other. it was like he was never your first love.

and before you knew it, summer had come to an end, it had been three months since the night you ended things with him, the sky above you turning grey as you sat on the dock in front of your house with your feet in the cold water, when your phone started ringing, and for the first time in three months...

incoming call... rafe

and as you wondered what to do, a raindrop fell over the green circle displayed on your phone, as if telling you what to do, and so you took your phone into your hand, chewing on your bottom lip as you were thinking of whether to accept or decline.

to say that he wasn't good when it came to emotions and feelings would be an understatement when talking about rafe. most of the time the only thing he allowed himself to feel was anger, and so, when you walked out of the bathroom, the only thing he could do was stare at that locket, and even though he wanted to be angry, to start punching the bathroom sink until his hand broke, he couldn't. all he could do was stare at that damn locket, feeling like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs, like there just wasn't any anger left in him.

the day after you ended things with rafe, he broke up with sofia. for the next week the only thing he did was drink just to get the thoughts of you out of his head. for the week after that, all he did was think about you.

you needed your space, but he knew that every sunday you spent the afternoons playing tennis with one of your friends; so every sunday he'd drag his friends there on the premise of playing golf, just to get a glimpse of you; and unlike him, you looked fine, like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. he'd go out to any party he got wind of, just in case you showed up.

and whenever you noticed rafe's presence, when you looked straight at him, it was like the emptiness that had been in his chest since that night was slowly going away, like it was that night when you slept in his arms when he whispered "i love you." into your ear, hoping to god that you wouldn't hear, and now, the only thing he wished was for you to hear it even though he couldn't say it. but whenever you looked away from him, that emptiness came back.

rafe rarely drew anymore, not since he started working with his father, but now he found himself sketching images he had carved into his memory, ones of you sleeping in his bed, his sheets pulled up to cover your chest while your hair covered a good part of your face, ones with that look on your face when your face was flushed from alcohol when you were trying your hardest to find the words you were looking for when you were chattering about something you were passionate about.

and the next three months went in a cycle of drinking or throwing himself into the family business to forget about you, or finally giving in and thinking about you with that locket held in his large hand, and whenever he saw you, the more alright you seemed, and he kept wondering if that'd ever happen to him.

he was sitting in the office that formerly belonged to his father, his jaw clenched as he stared at your contact image, a picture of you petting a stray cat that lived around the island, obsessing over your contact something he'd been doing a lot lately, as if daring himself to call you. but before he could, he'd dropped his phone down onto the desk, rubbing his palms over his face with a deep sigh, telling himself to just focus on his work.

but rafe was drawn out of his thoughts of a familiar ringing, of one telling you that you were calling someone. and when he pulled his hands away from his eyes, they landed on his phone calling a familiar number.

and before he could hang up and pretend it never happened, the call was connected, and a soft voice on the other side simply said,

"rafe?"

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 10)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: studying at the library is sooo fucking stressful. especially when your final is next week. gojo promises to help you study, but you guys get into other shenanigans instead... ☆ tags: modern au, babysitting au, academia au, threesome au ☆ warnings: oral sex (m! receiving and f! receiving), eating it from the back, exhibitionism, choking (on dick) ☆ a/n: HI GUYS SORRY IVE BEEN SOOO MIA work is crazy (it’s beating my ass) and life is so hectic (also beating my ass). i’ve been trying to have a hot girl summer but i assure u i’ve been nonstop thinking of one shots and new plot points for my fics and new ones too so once the seasonal depression kicks in it’s gonna be over for everyone ! ok enjoy :3 sowwee it took so long once again!! 🙏 ☆ wc: 6.7k+ 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

if there was a time in the past when you said the hong kong coffee milk tea you had been drinking did nothing to keep you awake, you sincerely take it back. your brain felt it first, halfway through sipping on the matcha oatmilk latte satoru had brought for you. and then came the uncontrollable leg shaking and the pounding in your head that could only be satiated if you continued to drink from your matcha, although now that wasn’t doing much either. 

you snuck a quick look at satoru, who was initially banally transcribing his notes onto his cheat sheet for the final, now animatedly talking through bell’s theorem to nanami and haibara and you (before you zoned out). haibara was rapid fire questioning satoru’s mini-lecture, talking a mile a minute as he tapped his pencil at an unnatural pace on the desk. you look over at nanami, who’s staring at satoru with a thousand yard, wide eyed stare, and realize you all were caffeinated beyond recovery. 

the pounding in your head got louder and louder, until it drowned out the noises satoru and haibara. water. you need water. your mouth is too dry. you make eye contact with nanami, and as if he read your mind, he wordlessly reaches into his backpack and hands you his blue hydroflask. you take a swig. and then another. and then you’re chugging the entire bottle like your life depends on it (you think it does in a way). 

the pounding in your head fades just as you empty his water bottle. your vice grip on it turns your fingers white and you try to pay attention to what satoru is lecturing about. 

“see, the thing about heisenberg’s uncertainty principle is that the more localized the momentum-space wavefunction is, the more likely the particle is found in those values, which by the way, are just fourier transforms of each other…”

what the fuck? uncertainty principle? fourier transforms? those weren’t on the final last time you checked. you quickly pull out your study guide and try to find any mentions of whatever satoru was talking about. you find bell’s theorem (wasn’t he just talking about that? how did he switch topics so fast, and so randomly for that matter?), but no mentions of heisenberg. you turn back to satoru and realize he’s just talking nonsense quantum facts from the top of his head, regardless if it was even part of the class (perhaps as a result of being too wired from the triple shot latte he’s been sipping on). 

oh, you need to stop this before everyone gets confused. “satoru, wait, is this even on the final?” if he heard you, he doesn’t let you know, as he continues on his monologue without missing a beat, now talking about quantum computing and turing tests. those aren’t even remotely related to the class you guys are studying for! “satoru! stop talking, jesus fuckin’ christ, dude!” you shake his shoulder, jolting him back to reality as he stops talking and looks over at you confused. 

“what? why? did you have a question about what i was saying?”

“yeah, what the fuck? none of that is on the final, what are you even talking about? how do you know, like, all these random physics facts from the top of your head?!” you ask incredulously. 

satoru shrugs and looks at you like you’re the weird one for questioning him. “you don’t?”

“not everyone studied applied physics in undergrad and graduated summa cum laude, gojo-sensei,” haibara quipped, still writing down some notes from satoru’s monologue in his notebook. you quickly swat his hand away from writing down any more. 

“stop writing what he just said haibara! it’s gonna confuse you when you’re actually studying for the final.” you frown, leaning over to move his notebook away from him. 

“what is it do you think we’re doing right now, y/n, if not ‘actually studying for the final’?” nanami says, emphasizing what you had just said. when was the last time he blinked? 

“none of us studying right now because we got too fuckin’ wired from the coffee. where did you guys get this battery acid anyway?” you say, taking another sip from your matcha, against your own will. 

“philz…” satoru says. 

you scoff. “philz?! and you got a triple shot there? how are you alive right now? how are all of you alive right now? why the fuck would you get coffee from philz and not riko’s like usual?!”

“i’m not feeling alive.” haibara chimes. 

“i’ve been having an out of body experience for the last thirty minutes,” nanami informs, too calmly for your liking, if you’re being honest. 

“suguru told me if he saw my face at riko’s today, he would poison me in my sleep.” satoru says, running his hands through his hair in slight frustration. his legs are restless and so are yours. 

“okay, well, it doesn’t matter now because we are never gonna feel normal again. this is our life. anyway, i think we need a break.” everyone nods their heads. “m’gonna go on a walk around the library and fill up your water bottle, nanamin. anyone wanna join?” you get up from your chair and wordlessly, satoru gets up to accompany you. 

as you two exit the study room, the change of scenery allows your eyes to adjust to reality and your brain to think of something other than physics, which unfortunately is the deal you made with satoru before walking into the study room and getting wired beyond repair. you decide that while you’re not opposed to blowing him right now, you’re not bringing it up until he does. you look over your shoulder and see satoru following silently behind you and you lead him to a corner of the library, where the water refill stations and bathrooms were. 

as you’re filling up nanami’s water bottle, satoru breaks the silence. “should we be worried about nanami and his…umm…out of body experience?”

“aww, you care about nanami, don’t you?” you coo, giving satoru a sly smile. 

“if you’re trying to insinuate that i’m in love with him, then you’re right, i am. why else would i secretly stick on post-its with penises on the back of his notebook?”

“you’re the one doing that?!” you turn your head to satoru to shake it disapprovingly and sigh. “he’s been haunted by those wretched things for weeks, satoru! he’s been thinking some girl’s been sexually harassing him!”

you watch him cackle with laughter and shoot him a dirty look. “stop laughing, satoru!” you say, but you’re a hypocrite because you’re also laughing at the situation. “promise me you’ll– shit!” the water overflows from the water bottle as you pour the excess out and seal the cap on. 

“c’mere,” satoru says, leading you somewhere deeper into the library. 

“anyway, i don’t think we need to worry about nanamin,” you say as you turn the corner and enter a narrow aisle. “i think he just needs to drink water and touch grass or talk to someone that isn’t you.”

“yeah, maybe…” satoru says, as he leads you to another random book aisle, clearly no longer paying attention to you. 

“hey, where are we? what are we doing here?” you take a look around at the books around you. greek mythologies? “why are we in the greek–”

your question is cut off by satoru’s lips crashing into yours and his arms pulling you flush against his chest. satoru leans down to your height and tightens his grip on your hips. caught off guard, it takes you a moment to register what was happening before you leaned into the kiss, deepening with opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. the kiss is urgent, hurried, clandestine – stolen in an empty library corridor in the greek mythology section, of all places. aphrodite would be delighted, you think. 

you take great pains to not moan into satoru’s mouth in the quiet of the library, but a stifled sigh sneaks out regardless. you feel satoru’s hands slide down to your ass and squeeze, as you use the hand that’s not holding the hydroflask to run your fingers through his undercut, earning a muffled groan from him. he leans down further and lifts you up slightly so that he can shove his legs between yours and move your hips on them. the friction of your clothed core meeting his knee catches you off guard as you drop the hydroflask. it clatters on the ceramic tiled floor of the library and echoes loudly across the library floor. 

shit. shit. satoru and you immediately break off the kiss the second the sound rings and you quickly scramble to grab it before it starts rolling to where people are within view. “shit, shit, shit!” you whisper frantically as you fumble to get the water bottle. your face is hot and the pounding in your head is back, begging you for more caffeine. your heart feels like it’s about to go into cardiac arrest for the same reason, but the fact that you were secretly kissing your best friend did not help. 

“jesus fuckin’ christ, why are those things so fucking loud,” satoru says, his eyes scanning the neighboring aisles to see if anyone was there. 

“why did you knee my clit?” you challenge back in a hushed whisper as you set the hydroflask down on the floor. 

“well i had this insane idea that you would like it.” satoru mumbles. you have no interest in arguing with him any further, figuring the best way to beat the pounding in your head was to grab satoru’s sweatshirt and pull him closer to you and continue. with both hands free, you’re able to kiss him and grip his hair to deepen the kiss again. 

this time, satoru slowly moves his hands down to your ass and pulls you right against his rock hard bulge of his own arousal. you sigh deeply at the contact, and buck your hips towards his erection, but missing due to the awkward angle. satoru breaks off the kiss in favor of littering your neck with soft butterfly kisses. 

“you know, i do recall someone saying they’d blow me in the library…” satoru says in between kisses. his lips feel the soft vibration of your groan and he chuckles against it. “you don’t have to, by the way, if you don’t want to. i don’t wanna–”

“what if want to?” you ask innocently, flashing your eyes at him coquettishly as you push him back and use the hair tie on your wrist to quickly tie your hair back. you slowly sink to your knees. don’t think about how hard the tiled floors are here and just focus on giving him insane head so he cums fast and you get back on your feet. you feel a bit bad thinking that, because you do really want to give him head, but also you’re a woman in your late 20s suffering from joint pain, which was embarrassing in itself. 

you push your thoughts of your knee pain on the ceramic tiles aside and start to palm his hard erection through his pants. satoru holds back a groan and throws his head back and holds your wrist and moves it to his belt. you undo it effortlessly, and pull down his pants and underwear, unveiling his well endowed erection in front of you. fuck, it’s so huge. 

your hand grips him lightly as you lick a long stripe from the base to the pink tip of his shaft. at the top, you give him a small kiss before your mouth slowly envelopes it, licking it so as to lubricate your mouth for deepthroating him. you slowly go down on him further and further, until you feel him at the back of your throat, before you start bobbing your head back and forth. satoru hisses under his breath as you full take him in and start sucking him off rhythmically. 

you feel his hand reach the back of your head and grip your ponytail, helping you control the pace to his liking. the warmth of your mouth and skillful maneuvers of your tongue are sending satoru faster to the edge than he’d like to admit, and he grits his teeth to keep himself from spilling within minutes of you starting the blowjob he’d been thinking about since you mentioned it. 

“fuuuck, just like that…” satoru hums deeply. the tip of his cock bullies the back of your thorat, causing your mouth to gag and clench on him. “damn, you love this shit don’t you? deepthroating me in the library where anyone can walk in? where anyone can see how much of a desperate slut you are?”

satoru’s dirty words turn you on more than expected, especially knowing anyone could hear him. you feel yourself getting soaked thinking about the potential chance at someone watching you. what if it was toji? wait, what? how did that thought make you even more wet? thankfully, your moans are muffled by your mouth engulfing him. satoru increases his pace, and starts to fuck your face relentlessly, chasing his high. 

just as you were choking on his member, satoru abruptly stilled his movements inside your mouth. your eyes widen, hearing muffled movements nearby and try to remove yourself from his cock, but satoru keeps your head firmly on him via the vice grip on your ponytail, which was slowly coming apart. the muted sounds slowly got quieter and quieter, until they were gone completely, at which point satoru resumed his mouth fucking. 

“i bet if i felt you right now, you’d be dripping,” satoru whispers breathily. you whine against him, knowing he’s right – your panties are completely ruined. satoru swears under his breath, and you feel his thrusts get sloppier as you feel his cock pulsating as he gets closer to his climax. you help him reach it by using a hand to lightly cup his balls, a trick you learned from an ex-boyfriend of yours, which turns out to be successful. 

“f-fuck, gonna cum in your mouth, yeah?” satoru asks, and you moan in response, vibrating against him. you feel hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat. for the second time today, you don’t let a single drop go to waste. you swallow his cum clean, and lick one last stripe across his cock, as you let him go with a lewd pop. 

 you wipe off some spit on the back of your hand as satoru makes himself decent while catching his breath as fast as possible, leaning against the bookshelf to do so. satoru reaches out his hands lazily to help you get up from your knees on the hard floors, which crack while you stand up. he pulls you closer to his chest as he leans on the library bookshelf, and leans forward to kiss your mouth. you kiss him back briefly before pulling away and checking your phone. “shit, we should go, people might notice that we’ve been gone for way too long…”

satoru rolls his eyes as you grab his hand and lead him down the various aisles he took you through, dropping it only when you caught sight of some students nearby. you cross your arms as you think of how you blew two guys in one day which is not only a new feat for you, but also, kind of annoying that you didn’t get anything in return both times, even though you understood why toji couldn’t. 

“somethin’ troubling you, baby girl?” satoru asks, nudging your shoulder.  

“oh, what? no, why would you ask that?”

“because you blew me like a minute ago and you’re completely silent. and your arms are crossed and your eyebrows are doing that thing they do when you’re annoy–”

“oh my god, okay i get it!” you say with exasperation, not wanting to hear him characterize you this accurately. “and yeah, whatever, i guess i’m a little miffed, but it’s not a big deal.”

“did i do something wrong?” you hear a hint of genuine concern in his voice. 

“oh my god, satoru, no, of course not…it’s just…” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. all of a sudden, you’re feeling shy and meeting satoru’s eyes is a pain so you keep them downcast and cross your arms to your chest even tighter in an effort to self-sooth. 

“if it’s embarrassing then i’m sorry, you have to tell me or else i’m gonna be so fuckin’ annoying about it.”

“you’re already so fuckin’ annoying about everything, first of all. and fine, if you must know…” you find the courage to turn your head up to him. “i blew like two guys today including you and do you know how many times i got the favor returned? zero. ZERO!” you felt petulant voicing your concerns this wantonly. 

just as you expected, a shit eating grin forms on satoru’s face. “well, why didn’t you say so? you know i’d be more than happy to help that disparity for you.” hearing him tease you about eating you out has you more hot and bothered than you’d like to admit. 

“promise?”

“promise. once we get the fuck outta here, my mouth is yours, baby girl.” 

“don’t call me that!” you say, grinning as you both approach the table where you left shoko to study on her own. you are surprised to see utahime sitting next to her whispering something in her ear, and shoko shaking in silent laughter. 

“oh my god, this bitch…” you say under your breath as you stride towards her desk. so rich of her to tell everyone to shut up when utahime is allowed to say all the jokes in the world. utahime notices you first and her face brightens as she gives you an enthusiastic wave, only for her face to immediately sour when she spots satoru right behind you. 

“you can at least pretend you’re excited to see me ‘hime,” teases satoru. 

“do not call me that.” utahime seethes before turning her attention back to shoko and you. 

“what? you can giggle all you want with utahime but not with us?” you tease shoko. 

she rolls her eyes. “i’m on my break, dumbass, look!” she turns on her laptop to show you the 15 minute break timer that has long since elapsed. you look over at utahime and ask her what brings her back to thel library. 

“ugh, literally only because shoko is here. otherwise, i’d never step foot back at this place after graduating.” utahime frowns. you remember how you and shoko attended utahime’s graduation ceremony for education master’s last year, which was mostly you and shoko trying to figure out discreetly if utahime was into girls. 

the four of you hover around the table and speak in whispered voices and muted laughter, slowly losing track of the volume of your voices. eventually, at some point, everyone is speaking in normal talking voices in the quiet library, all while being blissfully unaware of the dirty pointed looks being given to you guys. 

“gojo, what the fuck kinda coffee did you get me, also? me and utahime have been sharing it and we are forreal tweaking off of this,” shoko complains, shaking the empty coffee cup. 

“it was philz.” you answer for satoru. utahime and shoko’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“are you trying to murder us?! why didn’t you go to riko’s?!” utahime yells, in a higher than normal level voice. 

“i literally cannot have this conversation again,” satoru says, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. 

your conversation is interrupted by a short stocky man, who you infer to be a library monitor wearing an official looking university sweater vest. “you folks are way too loud. we’ve gotten multiple complaints about the noise levels on this floor. this is your first and last warning, or you all are out.” he says sternly. 

“wait, sorr–”

“no excuses, ma’am. just please be silent from now onwards, or there will be consequences.” he interrupts you curtly before walking away from the table. the four of you don’t speak, until satoru breaks the silence.

“why’s his voice like that? so nasally?” he said the last part as nasally as possible, mocking the library monitor.  

“you’re so mean!” utahime says as you cover your mouth so she doesn’t see you wordlessly laughing at the admittedly mean imitation. 

“who’s so mean?” you turn to see haibara returning to the table with nanami behind him. 

“obviously it’s gojo.” nanami says without missing a beat. he eyes his water bottle in your hand and you give it back to him. “why did you guys take so long to get water? our reservation elapsed, so i guess we’re here now.”

heat rushes to your face and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. you’re too stunned to feel relieved that nanami’s eyes are looking less bloodshot and more normal. “oh uhh, we were just…”

“we did a lap around the library, nanamin. had to blow off some steam after all that physics, ya know?” satoru says, putting emphasis on that word. if you weren’t with everyone, you would’ve kicked him hard. 

nanami cocks an eyebrow in confusion while haibara doesn’t have a single thought behind his eyes as he readily accepts satoru’s answer. “oh wait! guess what we found while packing our shit up from the study room,” haibara says excitedly. 

“haibara, i really don’t wanna–” nanami starts. 

“we found another penis post-it note inside his textbook. how about that?” haibara says with much amusement. 

“oh my god! no way! do you still think it’s the mysterious girl from physics lab?” shoko says, eyes widening and voice slowly rising. haibara nods excitedly, and you shoot a dirty look at satoru from the corner of your eye, only to see him relishing the conversation. 

“yeah, there is this girl who always wants to partner up with nanamin-chan during lab. it’s gotta be her.” satoru shamelessly fans the flames of a wildfire of his own making. 

nanami pulls out a chair and buries his face in his arms, but the blush creeping up to his cheeks did not go unnoticed by anyone. “or, radical idea, it’s some girl sexually harassing me.” his mumbles. 

“okay, pack it up fellas. i said there’ll be no second warning, so all of you, OUT!” the library monitor takes all of you by surprise as none of you see him coming. “the next time i catch all of you talking loudly at this library results in suspension for the rest of the semester!” he says as you all quietly grab your stuff and leave the library wordlessly. he follows you guys until you’re outside in the crisp evening air and concrete steps of the library entrance. 

once he leaves, you allow yourself to freak out. “oh my god, are we gonna get suspended?! they can’t suspend us for this, right? god, i should’ve known you bitches couldn’t shut the fu–”

“jesus christ, y/n, chill. they just say that shit to scare you. this is like my fifth time getting kicked out of this library.” satoru says nonplussed, hands in his pockets as he leisurely descends down the stairs as the rest of you follow him. 

“thanks though for throwing us under the bus like that, y/n,” shoko says, rolling her eyes.

“is no one going to bring up why gojo is getting kicked out of libraries this much?” utahime asks. 

none of you answer, mostly because no one wants to know the answer to it. satoru’s smug smile is planted permanently on his face as he winks at utahime, and she gags. “anyway, what’s everyone doing? should we get dinner together?” haibara asks warmly, zipping up his jacket. everyone looks at each other and agrees. 

“oooh, let’s go to that new thai place downtown!” you suggest, pulling up your phone to look at the hours. 

“i’m down, let’s pick up suguru on the way. he’s at riko’s.” satoru responds, his information on suguru’s whereabouts earns a “ooohhh” from everyone. 

“he’s still there?! oh my god, he’s in love with that girl…” shoko says. 

the six of you take a walk to riko’s cafe, which is slowly closing up for the night. usually, you wouldn’t walk into a place if it was just five minutes before closing time, like you are now, but you figure it’s a special exception since one of your best friends is crushing on the owner. the lot of you inconspicuously make your way outside the cafe glass walls, trying to catch suguru and riko…doing what? you’re not entirely sure but shoko said something about seeing suguru in his “natural habitat”, and all of you agreed (you blame the caffeine). 

you crouch down and peer into the cafe to see suguru helping riko wipe down tables and stack up chairs (basically anything that requires heavy lifting). damn…that’s cute. may be love really is worth it. your breath hitches in your throat and you jaw goes slack when you see suguru lean in close to riko and kiss her tenderly. you, shoko, and utahime exchange glances with each other with wide eyes and you hear nanami say something about how we are invading suguru’s privacy. the trance this intimate and now stolen moment is broken as satoru bangs his hands against the wall loudly, scaring the lot of you and suguru and riko inside. suguru looks absolutely flummoxed, while riko immediately steps away from him and pretends to inspect something in the barista area. 

you hear satoru yelling through the glass. “open the door, lovebiiiirrdss!” he jiggles the door a couple times to open it but it’s locked. suguru comes closer to open the door and he looks like he’s going to summon curses to obliterate him, and frankly everyone else. 

“man, fuck you. what did i say? why are you here?” suguru says immediately after opening the door to satoru. he gives a disappointing stare to nanami and you. “honestly, i expected better from both of you.” 

nanami tries to defend himself with little to no avail while you focus on making it up to him by talking about thai food. “sorry, sugu, but let us make it up to you. dinner at that new thai place?”

“can riko come?”

“no!” utahime says out of nowhere. it’s silent for five seconds. “i’m just kidding, hehe. of course she can come!” she says sweetly. shoko is the only one who laughs. utahime’s timing in jokes were always questionable but at least she’s really pretty. 

suguru finishes putting up the last few chairs and goes to the back to let riko know about dinner plans. he and her disappear to the break room, and appear three minutes later with their bags and coat. they meet you outside and you notice suguru’s feet are restless, and his hands can’t find a proper place to rest. 

“you good, suguru?” you ask. 

“y-yeah, all good”, he says, pushing his bangs back. 

riko giggle. “he had one too many cups of coffee today.” him, too? “don’t blame him though, they were on the house.”

“oh, okay, great, so we’re all wired as fuck right now.” shoko remarks, as she puts an arm around utahime. 

“you guys got coffee? when? i didn’t see you guys stop by for anything?” riko questions, thinking back to customers that stopped by today. 

everyone is silent, not wanting to embarrass suguru for the second time in ten minutes. “uh, well…” you start. “satoru got us the coffees today!” you say, passing the ball to his court. his problem now. 

satoru shoots you daggers, not feeling fond of being put on the spot to come up with a quick lie. “oh, yeah. uh, i got it from…philz. because…”

“because you hate me and want me to die?” riko says without missing a beat. 

“because, uh…the barista…on main street…i’m sleeping with her. that’s it. my bad, riko-chan.” you don’t know what’s more shocking: the fact that you can’t tell if he’s lying or the fact that riko believes him so easily. 

riko thankfully drops the subject and everyone moves on to different topics, from haibara asking satoru more information about the hot philz barista and utahime sharing amusing events from teaching high schoolers this week. the group of you bask in the crisp and cool evening air as you walk leisurely to the thai place downtown, which was a nice walk away. once you guys arrive, you are met with the sunday night dinner line, which is awful to say the least. your heart deflates knowing you won’t be able to try this place and you and haibara start to look at other places for dinner before riko interrupts the both of you. 

“oh, don’t worry about it. i can get us in, gimme a minute.” she says, before squeezing past a bunch of people waiting in front and greeting the server at the front. the server seems to call someone over from inside the restaurant, and a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and prominent laugh lines comes out, and his eyes light up when he sees riko. 

riko laughs and gives him a quick hug and starts talking to him about something and then gestures over to you and your friends. after a while of standing awkwardly, riko finally looks over at your group and motions you all to follow her. as you step into the restaurant, you’re met with romantic low lighting, roses as a centerpiece of every table, and various trinkets related to thai culture hanging on the wall and shelves. the place reminds you of somewhere your parents would take you to as a child after getting good grades in class, and it leaves you feeling nostalgic. 

you’re led to a corner of the restaurant where a waiter was quickly pulling two tables together to hold your party. “right this way,” the man says, extending his hand out to the table that was being set up in front of you. 

“thank you so much for having us during a busy night,” nanami says, bowing his head slightly in respect. 

the man laughs heartily. “oh, anything for riko-chan over here. we business owners gotta stay together, anyway. welcome!” you take a seat on the booth side of the two tables, with shoko sitting next to you and satoru taking the seat directly in front of you. “please let me know if there's anything you need during your dinner. my name is joseph!” you take a quick look at his name tag and as expected, see a silver tag engraved with “JOSEPH J” with his ownership title under it. what a sweet old man. 

your thoughts are interrupted by a slightly painful kick under the table to your shin. without looking down, you know in your soul who kicked you, and his stupid ocean eyes are looking directly at you as he mumbles a quick sorry. you waste no time in kicking him back, but earning no response in return. this begins a long game of footsies underneath the table between you and satoru. while trying to keep up with the conversation at the table, your short legs struggle to reach his, and you keep missing his feet. on the other hand, satoru easily dodges your feet and playfully kicks yours under the table (what is he? twelve years old?). 

you’re responding to something suguru and utahime said, when satoru uses his legs to spread your legs forcefully apart. you stutter in the middle of your sentence before gaining your composure back, and you feel the heat rise to your face. satoru’s foot inches closer and closer to your inner thigh, and you quickly finish your sentence, before taking large sips of your water. shoko gives you a look, internally asking if you were good to which you wave her off. 

“uh, i think i’m gonna use the bathroom, be right back,” you say, abruptly getting out of your seat and beelining to the restroom. you don’t actually need to use it, but you need to catch your breath after how easily satoru spread you apart and toyed with you under the table. you rinse your mouth with the tap water and fix your hair in the mirror when you hear a rap at the door. 

you open it and are met with satoru barging inside and locking the door. 

“satoru what are you–” you’re interrupted for the second time today with his lips as he kisses you deeply, his tongue immediately asking for access and you granting it too easily. “w-what are you d-doing~” you say in between sharp breaths and satoru kisses your neck and grips your ass hard. 

“didn’t you say you needed to cum? i’m helping you out,” he says as he feverishly leaves kisses all over your neck and brings his hands up to the hem of your sweater. he deftly slips his hands under your sweater and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp has his fingers trace every part of your torso and eventually creepy up to your covered breasts. once his hands brush past your erect nipples, you let out a soft moan, inaudible in any normal circumstance, but satoru hears the vibrations through the lips attached to your neck. you can feel him smirking against your neck as he doesn’t let up with his small pecks. the last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of making a noise in the bathroom, but your resolve is short lived. 

satoru’s hands abruptly leave your chest, and make their way down to the buttons of your jeans. he fumbles with the zipper and you use the opportunity to run your fingers through his hair and leave small kisses on his temples. something about him taking you in the bathroom turns you on immensely, and the only way you can stop yourself from grinding against the air is to keep your mouth preoccupied. 

“y’gotta stop squirming, baby,” satoru says through ragged breaths, “can’t get these goddamn pants off you when your hips are grinding against my touch.” you feel a blush creep up to your face. you didn’t even know you were doing that. you thought you were actively keeping your hips stilled. 

“i am keeping still,” you whine. “if it’s a skill issue then just say that.” you tease, and egging him on works because once the zipper gets unstuck, your jeans practically fall down your ankles. you bend down to try to get them off completely without having to take off your shoes (you wouldn’t be caught dead in a public bathroom, even a nice one like this,  without your shoes), but satoru already has something else in mind. 

he spins you around and bends you over the granite counter, your cheeks burning from the shock of coldness of the stone. you breath is jagged as you feel satoru hook his finger to your panties and pull it down, feebly pooling by your ankles. you feel exposed as he hugs the mold of your ass and spreads it apart, but even you can’t help but feel your wetness drip down your inner thigh. you feel satoru’s hard-on press against you, and you try to will the fabric between the two of you to disappear so you could feel his length teasing your entrance.  fuck, there’s no getting out of this. do you even want to get out of this? not really…

“s-stop, satoru, we-we have t-to go b-back,” you protest, even though your legs betray you by spreading wider in anticipation of what will happen. 

“yeah, that’s why you’re practically dripping right now, right?” satoru says, his voice slightly strained. he kneels so he’s eye level to your dripping wet pussy and entrance. his mouth practically waters in anticipation of tasting you for the first time – something he’s been dying to taste since…god he doesn’t even know how long he’s been wanting this. 

he wastes no time plunging his tongue as deep as it can go inside your entrance, and he moans at the taste of you. at the same time, your eyes roll back in the pleasure of it all, your moans no longer being held back. using both hands to hold your hips in place and spread you apart, satoru continues his assault on your pussy, not leaving any part untouched by his tongue. you feel yourself out of breath already, and pushing back against his face, trying to feel the friction on your clit. 

satoru seems to catch on, and releases his hold on your hips with one hand and snakes it around you. his fingers find their way to your clit, as if he’s had the path memorized in the back of his hand. he starts rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves, earning breathless moans from you. he already came earlier today, but the sight your legs splayed our and pussy exposed in front of him is enough to make him burst just as hard. 

“fuck, feelin’ you clench against my tongue, baby,” satoru says, still drawing small circles on your clit. “gonna cum? this is what you’ve wanted for so long, haven’t you?” 

he’s teasing you now, and it’s sickening how that edges you on even more. your pussy clenches harder as his tongue re-enters you, and you know you’re going to spill any minute. the coil tightens inside your lower stomach, and you feel the familiar build up about to burst inside you. 

“nghh~ sa-satoru haaa~” you say in between breaths. “m’gonna cum…” 

“normally i’d make you beg but you’ve been such a good little girl for me today,” he says, maintaining the relentless pace of bullying your bundle of nerves. his tongue returns back into you, just in time for the coil to release inside you, and you clench uncontrollable against his mouth. your legs shake as satoru continues his ministrations until he senses you’re out of breath. 

your face feels damp as you try to catch your breath from the orgasm that ripped through your body. satoru stands up and leans against your bent over body, his breath on your skin tingle. he gives you a quick peck on the back of your neck, before you feel his hard-on against your opening. 

“a-are you gonna fuck me, now?” you ask in between breaths. you’re not sure if you could even take him in your fucked out state, but you weren’t raised a quitter. 

satoru chuckles softly against your neck before standing up straight. “i’d fuckin’ love to, but you look really roughed up. don’t wanna let people get the wrong idea here…” he teases, and your head immediately shoots up to look at the state of your appearance. 

your hair is shooting in all different directions, baby hairs and all. your eye makeup is slightly smudged, mascara creating slight racoon eyes. you gasp at how quickly and carelessly you allowed yourself to get this fucked out, all from getting eaten out. “satoru! what the fuck did you do?!” you exclaim, feebly trying to lift yourself off the counter. 

satoru helps you up but frowns. “the fuck did i do?”

you frantically try to smooth your hair down back to it’s original state, but the flyaways still remain, and the humidity of your activities in the bathroom is slowly adding to the frizziness of it. fuck, you’re so screwed. “you…you bent me over! and…” you struggle to find the words to accuse him with. you know it’s not his fault or yours, but you need someone to blame right now. 

“and what? gave you head? and then the best orgasm of your life?” he smirks, watching you as you put your pants back on. 

“don’t flatter yourself. that was nowhere near the best orgasm i’ve ever had.” you say, making eye contact with him through the mirror, as you wet a paper towel and skillfully try to remove any evidence of running mascara from your face. 

satoru raises his eyebrows. “damn, really? guess i just have to keep on giving them to you until one of them is.”

your heart practically leaps out of your chest, and you feel another familiar wetness pool down in your panties just thinking about what this could possibly entail for you.

[yangjeongin]

INTRODUCING … STRAY KIDS! (CHK CHK BOOM VER.)

[the-trans-dragon]

Hehehe >:3 got a kissie and some headpats from a pretty girl >:3 muahahahahahaha >:3

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

So I’m in a deeply red incredibly conservative state.  I ran a pride month 5k awhile back. The usual group of 3 protestors with an incredibly loud bullhorn showed up to yell at us about how trans people are mutilating themselves and AIDS is God’s judgement and we’re a menace to children etc. etc. etc. But they were vastly outnumbered by runners and volunteers. One of the first race announcements was that they hadn’t ordered enough T-shirts for the amount of people who ended up running, and would have to reorder, so anyone who wanted another race T-shirt should sign up now.

We’re all used to the protestors by now, they show up everywhere. We just ignore them. Interacting with them just encourages them.

I hadn’t realized how early the race date was this year compared to previous years and hadn’t prepared as much, and there were a lot of hills; not to mention there was some confusion as to the race route which resulted in the announcer referring to it post-run as a “4-mile 5k” (they are supposed to be about 3.5 miles. One guy ended up in an entirely different district of the city from where the race route was and still finished first.) I ended up walking a lot of the race, but I finished it, and did do a fair bit of running.

I had top surgery a few years ago but I’ve only gotten comfortable running shirtless this year as body fat redistribution happened. I had been trying to decide if I wanted to run shirtless or not before the protestors showed up and started yelling, then I was like ah. I will run past the transphobes shirtless like a human middle finger. And that is what I did. was wearing delightfully garish rainbow shorts I found at a thrift store and my pink triangle necklace.

Some Americorps volunteers were directing runners at one of the more confusing junctions, I high fived one and panted that I had just joined Conservation Corps. The sound of angry bullhorn shouting faded almost immediately behind us, and there were rainbow flags hanging in several of the yards we ran past throughout the route.

As in previous years, a lot of tough incredibly fit beautiful older people, mostly women, breezed past me during the race. One jogged up even with me with an encouraging “what would you do for a klondike bar!” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this and didn’t have the breath to express that I did not want anything thick or creamy at that moment, but what did come out was “you did remind me that there’s beer at the finish line.” Another lady who walked and jogged near me for awhile near the middle-latter half of the race talked a bit and complained that one of the volunteers organizing the race hadn’t set up the “water” table with fireball shots that she did for some other races and we just got a regular water and gatorade station!

Coming back to the finish line I was handed a flag and ran past long rows of cheering people. Around the corner the protestors were still lurking, but were mostly silent now. Apparently they had gotten worn out by just standing there and not running. As I passed the bullhorn guy shook himself out of his torpor enough to give a halfhearted “is it a man? is it a woman? who knows anymore?” I passed him and the sound of cheering, and then the 80s music (I remember Blondie and ABBA) they were blasting closer to the finish line.

Once most of the runners were back there was a fun run for the kids. A couple of the older ones had also run the 5k (I just know the protestors were awful to the poor guys ughh) but all of them made a lap around the parking lot and got handed medals. All of the adult volunteers and participants spread out around the middle of the parking lot so that there was someone cheering and waving flags for the kids along every step of the route.

There were free snacks, water and beer courtesy of our sponsor [brand redacted]. There was also non-alcoholic “beer”, which I thought was nice to see, I’d been thinking there was a heavily alcoholic element to a lot of local queer events. I drank a lot of water and ate some food before getting a free beer, which still hit me pretty hard after the run. While I was hovering around the refreshment table a big handsome butch came up next to me and I noticed a faded tattoo on her arm of a chain, each link a different color of the rainbow.

I went to put something down in my car just as the protestors were starting to leave, and realized that they were moving on a course that overlapped with mine as I walked to my car. I decided I wasn’t going to stop or veer out of their way and just see what they did. As I got closer they seemed to be talking about how we had definitely totally noticed that they were leaving (no one had.) They noticed me coming towards them and suddenly got quiet, avoided eye contact and skittered out of my way. Ha.

I stumbled into the nearby fundraiser to cool down and sober up in the air conditioning before I left. They were playing girl in red, rupaul, that girls/girls/boys song by Panic! at the disco, and that Taylor Swift song “You need to calm down” that some people on this site complained was cringe. The lady next to me sang along to “shade never made anybody less gay.” I bought a baseball hat.

It’s easy, I think especially if you’re very online and not very active in your local community, to start feeling like there’s no queer community in your area and we’re outnumbered by people who hate us. Unless you live in the middle of Westoboro Baptist territory that’s generally not true. I cannot stress enough how incredibly conservative and red my area is. We’ve got like 3 very loud people with nothing better to do who bother us at every event, and large amounts of people across all demographics who show up in support. I’ve been thinking about this post by @headspace-hotel about not being able to find stuff online and this is a slightly different thing but yeah. If you don’t know what there is in your area, you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to find it when searching online. If you search “is there queer stuff happening near me” google is going to shrug and recommend you Products And Services that it can Sell You. When I moved back home after spending some time in a much more blue state (but which had much less of a sense of community--I think it’s the way we band together down here when we know just what the stakes are) I felt like I was going to be the only trans person in the state, then someone mentioned to me that there was a local private facebook group for trans people to share personal posts and resources with many hundreds of members. There are more of us that aren’t on facebook. The Facebook group, though, introduced me to many more resources I hadn't known were in my area.

Get outside. Find some sort of local queer event and ask around. There will be other queer people. There is very likely something you’re interested in already happening or people who would love to work with you to start it if not. Even if you’re in a very red very rural state, you’re not alone, and chill or neutrally polite people vastly outnumber the few assholes, it’s just that the assholes are very loud and especially if you’ve been marinating in overwhelmingly toxic online environments it can feel like they’re everywhere. They’re not. Don’t give them that power.

The current legal landscape is terrifying and needs a lot of work but it doesn't reflect lived experiences. Get outside, find your local community, show up to in-person events if at all possible, it’s so encouraging.

[undressrehearsal]

dare to fuck this up

summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing

a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance

part 1

You hadn't talked about it. 

You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 

You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 

The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 

That had been three weeks ago. 

For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 

At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 

Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 

And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 

Fine. 

If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 

Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 

You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 

“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.

So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 

“What the hell are you-” 

You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 

She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 

And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 

So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”

And the game began. 

Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 

Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”

She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 

“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 

And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 

You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 

Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 

You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 

It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 

Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 

Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 

You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 

Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 

You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 

The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 

“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 

There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 

You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 

You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 

You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 

You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 

“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 

You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 

Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 

Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 

When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 

This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 

When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 

When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 

Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 

“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 

But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 

So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 

So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 

“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 

You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 

“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 

You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 

You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 

You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 

Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 

Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 

You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 

You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.

Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 

And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 

For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 

And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 

But the clock kept ticking. 

After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”

“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 

Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 

Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 

And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 

A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 

Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 

You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 

But this was too important to ignore. 

“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 

Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 

Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 

And it was the lack of care that broke you. 

You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 

“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 

Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 

It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 

You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 

“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 

And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 

You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 

You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 

“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 

“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 

“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.

Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 

“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”

She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 

“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 

She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 

Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 

“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 

Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 

You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 

“What do we do now?” 

When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 

Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 

“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 

You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 

Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”

“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 

You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 

Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 

Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 

The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 

It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 

Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 

She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 

You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 

You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 

Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 

When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 

Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 

She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 

You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 

You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either. 

Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 

Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 

This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 

But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 

“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 

If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.

Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 

You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 

You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 

You loved revenge. 

But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 

So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.

When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 

Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 

When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 

The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 

Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 

Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 

You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 

The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 

Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 

You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 

A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 

You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 

You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 

You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 

She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 

“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 

You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 

Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 

Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 

“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 

“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 

“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 

You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 

“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 

Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 

“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 

She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 

You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 

Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 

It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 

When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 

Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 

Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 

Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 

Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 

You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 

[a-lexia11]

Loving in Barcelona (Meeting in Barcelona final part)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Words count: around 13k

Warning: angst,fluff,insecurities

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Note: Here it is, everyone—the final part of the series. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, thank you so much for all the positive comments; I truly appreciate it 🤍🫶

“I’m ready to start a relationship…with you,” she said, her voice steady but laced with deep emotion. Her eyes never wavered from mine as she continued, “I want us to be together, officially.”

As those words spilled from her lips, disbelief washed over me. I turned slowly towards her, locking eyes with her, trying to comprehend the reality of what she was saying. Could this really be happening?

She was smiling at me, that soft, tender smile that always made my heart skip a beat. Her eyes, full of warmth and adoration, seemed to sparkle as she looked at me.

In that moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning, and it was just the two of us, frozen in this perfect bubble of time.

“You…you want to be with me? Like, as your girlfriend?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud might shatter the magic of the moment.

I was utterly dumbfounded. Her words seemed too good to be true, like something out of a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

She smiled even wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and then she leaned in, resting her forehead gently against mine.

Her hand, warm and soft, cupped my cheek, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles on my skin.

“Sí, eso es exactamente lo que quiero” (Yes, that’s exactly what I want) she whispered, her breath mingling with mine.

Then, she pulled back slightly, just enough to place a tender kiss on my cheek, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin like a sweet promise.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something—anything—to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me, but before I could form the words, someone called out Alexia’s name.

We both turned our heads towards the sound of the voice. There, just a few feet away, were Jenni Hermoso and Irene Paredes, grinning from ear to ear and waving Alexia over for a picture.

Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other and stood up. She didn’t let go of my hand, though. Instead, she squeezed it gently and led me towards the stands, where her mom and sister were waiting, watching us with knowing smiles.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” she said softly, her voice full of promise as she turned to face me again. “Te encontraré después” (I’ll find you after.)

Then, with the gentlest touch, she kissed me on the forehead, the gesture filled with so much affection that it made my heart swell.

And just like that, she walked away, leaving me standing there, dazed and utterly stunned.

I watched her retreating figure, my mind racing with the realization that she wanted to be with me—officially, just us, as girlfriends. It felt surreal, almost too incredible to believe.

But as the initial shock began to fade, I found myself grappling with the weight of what this meant. Did I want a relationship with her? The answer was a resounding yes. Of course, I did.

I’d been in love with her for what felt like forever, and the idea of being with her, truly and completely, was everything I’d ever wanted.

But as much as I wanted this—wanted her—I knew there were things we needed to talk about. We had to figure out how this was going to work, how we’d navigate this new chapter together.

And then there was Marina… That was a conversation that couldn’t be avoided.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside me. There would be time to figure everything out.

For now, all I knew was that I was in love with her, and she wanted to be with me. And that, in itself, was enough to make my heart soar.

Returning to Alba and Eli, with Alba giving me a smirk and a playful eyebrow wiggle, we decided it was time to head back to our hotel.

——

“¿Quieres una bebida?” (Do you want a drink?”) Alba practically shouted into my ear, her voice barely cutting through the loud, celebratory noise of the bar.

We were all out celebrating Spain’s big win, and the energy in the place was electric.

“Solo agua, por favor.” (Just water, please!) I shouted back, making sure my voice was loud enough for her to hear me over the music and chatter. The last thing I needed tonight was alcohol.

Alba gave me a quick nod, her expression a mix of surprise and understanding, and then I watched as she made her way through the crowd towards the bar.

As I stood there, the reality of tomorrow’s journey began to sink in. I was leaving for New York in the morning, and the thought of waking up hungover was definitely not appealing.

I wanted to spend a few days with my parents before heading back to Barcelona. With summer vacation winding down and school starting soon, this was my last chance to enjoy some time with them before things got busy again.

Alba returned a few moments later, balancing our drinks in her hands with a playful grin. I thanked her and took a sip, the coolness of the drink offering a brief reprieve from the heat of the packed bar.

The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter, music, and the joy of celebration after Spain’s big win.

After a while, Alba was fully immersed in the night, dancing her heart out with Alexia’s friends on the dance floor.

Meanwhile, I found myself sitting alone, taking a break. I had joined them earlier, but after dancing for what felt like hours, my feet were aching, and fatigue was beginning to set in.

The bar was still buzzing with energy, but I was starting to feel the weight of the day catching up to me. I glanced at my watch and noticed how late it was getting.

Alexia’s mom and uncle had already left for the hotel about an hour ago, and with my early flight looming, I knew it was time for me to head back as well.

Reluctantly, I stood up, brushing off the invisible weight of exhaustion that clung to me. I made my way through the crowd, weaving between groups of people until I reached Alba and the group of friends she was with.

I informed them that I was heading back to the hotel and took a moment to say my goodbyes since I wouldn’t be seeing them in the morning.

Alba gave me a tight hug, her energy still as high as ever, and I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

But before I left, I wanted to find Alexia. I hadn’t seen much of her since we arrived, as she had been busy celebrating with her teammates, and the bar was packed with people.

Despite that, our eyes had met a few times across the room, and each time, we shared a soft, knowing smile that made my heart flutter.

There was a connection between us that no amount of distance could weaken.

Scanning the room one last time, I finally spotted her seated in a corner, deep in conversation with Irene and Jenni.

I took a deep breath and made my way over, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. As I approached, Irene noticed me first.

She gave me a warm smile and nodded in my direction, subtly tapping Alexia on the shoulder to get her attention.

Alexia turned around, and the moment her eyes met mine, her face lit up with a wide, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.

She stood up and immediately wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight, affectionate hug.

I hugged her back just as firmly, savoring the warmth and comfort of being close to her.

When we finally pulled away, we remained close, our fingers naturally intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as we stood there, connected by more than just our hands. I could see the emotion in her eyes, and I knew she could see it in mine too.

“I’m going to head out,” I leaned in and whispered into her ear, the loud music and chatter making it hard to hear. She immediately frowned, her expression a mix of disappointment and concern.

“¿Por qué? Apenas hemos pasado tiempo juntos esta noche” (Why? We’ve barely spent any time together tonight) she replied, her voice tinged with a bit of a pout as she looked at me with those eyes that always made it hard to leave.

“I know,” I said softly, “but I’ve got an early flight tomorrow, and honestly, I’m exhausted.” My words came out gently, hoping she would understand.

She sighed and nodded, though it was clear she wasn’t happy about it. The reluctance was written all over her face, but she knew I had to go. “I’ll walk you back to the hotel,” she offered, her tone more determined than before.

“No, no, really, it’s okay,” I assured her. “You should stay here and celebrate your victory with everyone. This is your night.”

But she shook her head firmly, her resolve unshakable. “No, no voy a dejarte ir solo” (No, I’m not letting you go by yourself) she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Alexia,” I chuckled lightly, trying to ease her worries, “the hotel is literally five minutes away. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

She looked at me with a mixture of stubbornness and care in her eyes. “A lot can happen in five minutes,” she insisted, and without waiting for further discussion, she turned to inform Jenni and Irene that she’d be walking me back.

Once she had made sure they knew, she returned to me and gently took my hand in hers. As our fingers intertwined, I felt the warmth and reassurance of her touch.

We made our way out of the bar together, leaving behind the noise and celebration, stepping into the cool night air.

Even though it was just a short walk, she gripped my hand tightly as we ambled through the dimly lit streets.

We began our journey to the hotel, our hands intertwined, chatting about the day’s highlights and her big win.

The air was crisp and cool, and the city lights cast a warm glow on our path. As we reminisced, our conversation was filled with laughter and playful teasing.

Each shared memory and joyful recollection made the walk feel special, transforming it into a cherished moment.

The simple pleasure of being together, wrapped in the warmth of our closeness, turned this brief journey into a sweet and unforgettable experience.

Finally, we arrived at the front of the hotel, the evening air cool against our skin.

“Thank you for walking me back,” I said, looking up at her with a playful pout. “But now you have to go back alone.”

She laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” she said with a teasing tone. “Solo voy a correr de regreso al bar” (I’ll just sprint back to the bar.) Her light-hearted joke made me smile, and we both shared a brief, carefree laugh.

As our laughter subsided, she drew me into a closer embrace, her arms wrapping warmly around my waist.

Her touch was comforting and intimate, making the moment feel even more special.

“No pienses que he olvidado lo que dije antes en el campo” (Don’t think I’ve forgotten what I said earlier on the field) she said, her smile tender and sincere as she looked into my eyes.

“I know you haven’t forgotten, and neither have I,” I replied softly, my voice full of affection.

She leaned in, resting her forehead gently against mine. “Now isn’t the right time to talk about it,” she whispered. “Es tarde, y deberías descansar. Pero te prometo que, una vez que estemos de vuelta en Barcelona, lo primero que quiero hacer es invitarte a una cita oficial” (It’s late, and you should get some rest. But I promise you, once we’re both back in Barcelona, the first thing I want to do is take you on an official date)

Her words took my breath away. The idea of an official date with her felt both thrilling and surreal. It was happening, and she had clearly made up her mind.

“If you want to, of course,” she added with a hint of nervousness, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I looked up at her, my heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, I’d love to go on a date with you,” I said gently, and then I pressed my forehead against hers, giving her a tender Eskimo kiss

We both giggled softly, our laughter melding seamlessly with the serene quiet of the night.

As our giggles faded, she pulled me closer, her arms enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and affection that made everything around us feel distant and irrelevant.

I noticed her gaze flickering to my lips several times, a silent, suggestive movement that made my heart race.

She leaned down slightly, her breath mingling with mine, and I responded by tilting my head upward, closing the remaining distance between us.

This was it—the long-awaited moment. The night was calm and still, with no interruptions or distractions, just the two of us sharing this intimate space.

Our lips were mere centimeters apart now, and she looked into my eyes with a question in her gaze, silently asking for permission to close the gap. I offered a soft, encouraging nod, my own heart pounding in anticipation.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to fully embrace the moment. Then, I felt her lips touch mine—soft and tentative at first. It was a sensation that felt both thrilling and surreal.

Her lips were incredibly gentle, as though she was savoring each moment of this first kiss, making sure it was as perfect as it could be.

Our lips began to move together slowly, in a tender, unhurried rhythm. Each kiss was deliberate, a delicate exploration that conveyed both passion and tenderness.

She kissed me as if I were the most precious thing in the world, her arms still wrapped around my waist, holding me close.

My hands naturally found their way to her cheeks, feeling the softness of her skin and deepening our connection.

In that precious moment, I was overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions—like butterflies fluttering in my stomach or fireworks bursting in the night sky.

The kiss was not just a physical sensation but an emotional symphony, marking the beginning of something beautiful and profound between us.

After a few moments, we slowly pulled away from each other. She pressed a few more gentle kisses on my lips before softly drawing back.

As we both opened our eyes, her face broke into a radiant smile, and she said, “Finalmente” (Finally) Her voice was filled with a mix of relief and joy.

I chuckled softly, feeling a rush of happiness, and buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent and feeling her warmth envelop me.

She placed her large, comforting hand on the back of my head, her touch grounding and reassuring. “Yes, finally,” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur, sharing in the profound sense of completion we both felt.

“No quiero irme ahora” (I don’t want to leave now) she whispered softly, her voice tinged with longing as she pressed a tender kiss to my hair. “I want to stay with you.”

Reluctantly, I pulled away slightly, needing to bring some sense of practicality into the moment. “No, you have to go back to the party,” I said with a gentle firmness, my tone mixed with affection.

Her smile remained, though it carried a hint of disappointment.

“I’m going back,” she said with a playful glint in her eye, “pero solo para que lo sepas, estaré pensando en ti todo el tiempo” (but just so you know, I’ll be thinking about you the entire time) Her cheeky grin made my heart flutter.

“Just have fun, okay?” I said, my hand moving to caress her cheek. She leaned into my touch, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the moment. “Te lo mereces, y estoy muy orgullosa de ti” (You deserved it, and I’m so proud of you.)

I withdrew my hand reluctantly and said, “Now, go before you miss out on all the excitement.”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Can I have one more kiss for the road?” she asked playfully, her voice a soft whisper of desire. I nodded in agreement.

She moved closer, her fingers gently cupping my cheek, and planted a series of tender kisses on my lips.

Each kiss was a delicate touch, full of warmth and promise, and as she kissed me, I felt a deep connection that made the moment feel even more intimate.

As she pulled back slightly, she whispered against my lips, “No puedo creer que he logrado dos sueños maravillosos esta noche” (Can’t believe I’ve achieved two wonderful dreams tonight) her words carrying a blend of excitement and tenderness.

It was clear she was referring to both me and her World Cup victory.

I laughed softly, my heart swelling with affection, and drew back completely. “You haven’t completely won me over yet,” I teased. “We’ll see how the first date goes. If it turns out to be dreadful, I’m afraid I might have to cut off all contact,” I said with a playful tone.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “No te preocupes por eso. Prepárate para quedar completamente impresionada” (Don’t worry about that. Prepare yourself to be completely blown away) she said with a confident, teasing smile.

I grinned and said, “Go now, and text me when you’re back at the party.”

She took my hands in hers and kissed them gently, her touch sending a thrill through me. “Te veré en Barcelona, bebé ” (I’ll see you in Barcelona, baby) she promised, kissing my hands once more before letting them go.

As she waved goodbye and walked away, I turned to enter the hotel, my mind still buzzing with the electric sensation of our kiss. How was I ever going to get any sleep tonight? All I could think about was that magical, unforgettable kiss and the anticipation of what the future held.

As I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to fall asleep—or at least trying not to let my thoughts drift to Alexia—my phone buzzed beside me.

Curious, I picked it up, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her name light up my screen.

**La Reina👸:** I’m back at the bar. Sleep well and sweet dreams, bebé. I hope you have a great flight tomorrow, and I can’t wait to see you again in Barcelona. Besos.

A warm smile spread across my face as I read her message. God, I really missed her goodnight text messages.

I typed out a quick response, telling her to enjoy the rest of her night, but not without reminding her to have fun. As I hit send, a contented sigh escaped my lips. I placed my phone on the bedside table, locked the screen, and snuggled into the blankets.

Closing my eyes, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The anticipation of seeing her again in Barcelona filled my mind, and for the first time that night, I felt truly relaxed.

With a soft smile still lingering on my face, I finally drifted off to sleep, my thoughts no longer a whirlwind but a gentle reminder of what awaited me.

——

Back in New York, I sat down with my parents and excitedly shared all the details of my recent adventure in New Zealand and Australia.

From the breathtaking landscapes to the electrifying atmosphere of the World Cup, they were captivated by my stories.

They were especially overjoyed to hear about Alexia’s incredible achievement of winning the World Cup.

As the conversation shifted, I updated them on my situation with Alba and Alexia.

They listened intently, and I could see the relief and happiness wash over them as I explained how everything had resolved smoothly.

Their smiles grew even wider when I mentioned how well things had turned out for all of us, and how Alba and I had managed to strengthen our friendship despite the challenges.

Then came the moment I had been eager to share—I told my mom about the kiss Alexia and I shared.

As I described the moment, her eyes lit up with excitement, and she let out a squeal of delight, like a teenager hearing about her best friend’s first crush. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and we both burst into laughter.

It was reassuring to know that Alexia had my mom's full approval, and it made me feel even more confident about what lay ahead.

For the next three days in NYC, I made the most of my time with family and friends.

Every moment was precious, from catching up over coffee to long walks through the city. It felt like a warm embrace before I had to return to Barcelona.

——

Back in Barcelona, I hadn’t yet crossed paths with Alexia. She’s been swept up in the whirlwind of celebrations, interviews, and the countless obligations that come with being a World Cup champion.

Meanwhile, I’ve been equally caught up in preparing for the upcoming school year—endless meetings with Valeria, going over the new curriculum, and making sure everything’s in order.

It feels like our lives have been moving at a breakneck pace, leaving little room for anything else.

But despite our hectic schedules, we’ve managed to stay connected, as we always do.

Whether it’s through FaceTime calls or quick text messages, we’ve found ways to bridge the gap. Alexia has been sharing endless photos and videos from her celebrations, each one more heartwarming than the last. It’s been a small comfort to see her so happy, even if only through a screen.

Tonight, though, is different. Tonight, I’ll finally get to see her in person before she heads off again for Barcelona’s pre-season tour in Mexico.

The thought of it fills me with a mix of excitement and nerves.

We’ve planned our first official date, and I’ve been getting ready, trying not to overthink it.

Alexia hasn’t told me where we’re going, only that I should dress casually. That’s more than fine with me—she knows I’m not into anything too fancy, and casual feels more natural for us anyway. It’s a relief knowing she understands me so well.

As I finished getting dressed, smoothing out the last wrinkle in my outfit, I heard a knock at the door.

My heart jumped a little as I walked over to open it. When the door swung open, there she was—Alexia, standing in front of me with that familiar, dazzling smile. She looked effortlessly stunning in her simple blue wide-leg jeans and a white crop top.

In one hands, she held a bouquet of flowers and the others held the Nala’s leach.

For a moment, I just stood there, taking her in. The sight of her, right there in front of me after what felt like so long, made my heart swell.

It wasn’t just the flowers or her casual but perfect outfit—it was the way she looked at me, the warmth in her eyes that made everything else fade into the background.

“Hola, amor” she greeted me with a gentle smile that instantly made my heart flutter. I couldn’t help but smile back at her, the warmth of her presence washing over me. “You look beautiful, as always” she added softly, her voice full of sincerity.

As she stepped closer, she wrapped me in a warm, comforting hug, the kind that made me feel like everything was right in the world again.

"Ugh, I missed you," I admitted, my voice laced with frustration from all the time we’d spent apart. She laughed softly at my words, the sound like music to my ears.

We reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, but I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

Grinning mischievously, I cupped her face in my hands and began peppering her cheeks with kisses, one after the other, causing her to giggle in that adorable way that always melted my heart.

Just as I was about to steal another kiss, I heard a little bark from below. I glanced down and saw Nala looking up at me with those big, expectant eyes.

With a laugh, I bent down to pick her up. “Oh, Nala! I missed you so much!” I cooed, cuddling her close and pressing kisses into her soft fur. “Much more than I missed your mami” I teased, flashing Alexia a cheeky smile over Nala's head.

Alexia laughed at my playful remark and handed me the bouquet of flowers she had brought. “Para tì,” (for you) she said, her eyes twinkling with affection.

I carefully set Nala back down and took the flowers from Alexia’s hands, admiring their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance.

“Thank you, Alexia. With all the flowers you’ve given me, I could practically open a flower shop” I joked, eliciting another soft laugh from her.

After putting the flowers in water, I returned to her side, feeling content and at peace. "Vamos," she said, extending her hand toward me.

I took it without hesitation, and as she intertwined our fingers, a wave of warmth spread through me.

We slowly made our way towards her car, fingers intertwined as we walked side by side.

When we finally arrived, she took a moment to open the door for me. I leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek, whispering a heartfelt “thank you” before sliding into the passenger seat.

After ensuring I was settled in, she turned her attention to Nala, carefully placing her in the backseat with a few affectionate pats.

Once Nala was comfortable, she climbed into the driver’s seat, buckled her seatbelt with a soft click, and started the engine. The hum of the car filled the air as we began our journey to wherever our date would take us.

As the city lights blurred by, I noticed her right hand resting casually on her lap. The desire to be close to her was too strong to resist, so I gently reached over and took her hand in mine, our fingers naturally intertwining.

The warmth of her touch spread through me, and when she glanced over at me, her lips curled into a tender smile.

Without a word, she lifted our joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of mine before letting them rest comfortably on my lap. I couldn’t resist tracing my fingers along her arm, savoring the connection between us.

After what felt like a dreamy ride, we finally arrived at our destination. As soon as I realized it was the beach, I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Oooh, I love a beach date!” I exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm, and she chuckled at my reaction, her laughter light and contagious.

We both got out of the car, the cool breeze immediately welcoming us. She moved to the backseat, carefully lifting Nala out before coming back to me.

Once again, she took my hand, our fingers fitting together as naturally as they always did.

The beach was calm and peaceful, with only a few scattered people in the distance. As we strolled towards the shore, she guided us to a more secluded area, where the sand was softer, and the waves seemed to dance just for us.

Spread out on the sand was a cozy blanket, along with a thoughtfully prepared picnic setup. There was a bottle of wine, a platter of assorted cheeses and ham, fresh fruits, and an array of other delicious snacks that made my heart swell with appreciation.

I turned to her, my eyes filled with gratitude. “Aww, Alexia, this is absolutely perfect. It’s so cute,” I said, my voice laced with genuine happiness. Her smile widened at my words, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Vamos,” she said softly, tugging my hand as she led me toward the blanket. Nala, full of energy, started running around, barking joyfully as she explored the surroundings.

Alexia and I sat close together, the warmth of her body comforting against the cool ocean breeze.

She reached for the wine, expertly opening the bottle with a satisfying pop, and poured me a glass.

I accepted it gratefully, our eyes meeting in a moment of shared contentment, and I couldn’t help but thank her once again for the beautiful evening she had planned.

The entire date was truly magical, exceeding all my expectations.

From the moment we arrived at the beach, Alexia and I found ourselves effortlessly immersed in conversation, diving deep into meaningful topics and then easily shifting to lighter, more playful discussions. It felt like we could talk about anything and everything without a single awkward pause.

Nala, her joyful presence adding to the atmosphere, often became the center of our attention as we tossed a ball for her and laughed at her excited antics.

At one point, as the sky began to shift into softer hues of pink and orange, I found myself sitting between Alexia’s legs on the blanket.

Her strong, warm chest pressed firmly against my back, and it felt like I was enveloped in a protective and comforting embrace.

Our hands naturally found each other and intertwined on my stomach, and Nala, always seeking closeness, nestled comfortably between my legs. The scene was picture-perfect, peaceful and intimate.

Alexia would occasionally lean down to plant tender kisses on my cheeks, her lips soft and affectionate.

Each time, I’d turn my head slightly, resting it against her shoulder, just so I could gaze up at her while we continued to chat. The way she looked at me made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile every time our eyes met.

As we talked, she gently pulled her hand away from mine and brought it to my cheek. Her large, warm hand cradled my face, her fingers moving with such tenderness that it made my breath catch.

She looked into my eyes, and in that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked softly, her voice filled with sincerity as her eyes searched mine.

I couldn’t resist teasing her just a little. “Hmm, I don’t know,” I said with a playful smirk, “I usually don’t kiss on the first date.”

But as I finished speaking, I leaned closer to her, puckering my lips in an exaggerated manner to show her I was just joking, giving her the signal that I was more than okay with it.

She laughed, a beautiful sound that made my heart skip a beat, and then she closed the small distance between us.

The moment our lips met, it was like everything fell perfectly into place.

The kiss was soft and gentle at first, our lips moving in perfect harmony. I could feel the warmth and sweetness of her touch, and it sent waves of electricity coursing through me.

I adjusted myself slightly, sitting up more so I could kiss her deeper, and she responded by pulling me closer, wrapping both of her strong arms around my waist, holding me as if she never wanted to let go.

Carefully, I turned around to face her completely, mindful of Nala who was still snuggled between my legs.

I ended up practically straddling Alexia, my hands resting on her shoulders as our kiss grew more intense.

Her tongue gently brushed against my lips, asking for permission, and I eagerly parted them, allowing her to explore further.

Our tongues met in a slow, sensual dance, caressing each other as we lost ourselves in the moment.

After what felt like an eternity, but also not nearly long enough, we finally pulled away, breathless and flushed.

I knew my face was probably as red as a tomato, but Alexia just smiled at me, her eyes filled with affection.

She then buried her face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling into me, and I responded by gently running my fingers through her hair, savoring the closeness.

Once we caught our breath and the moment settled, we decided to take a walk along the beach.

The sunset was a breathtaking mix of colors, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple as the waves gently lapped at the shore.

We walked hand in hand, our fingers once again intertwined, and the whole scene felt like something out of a dream.

The romance of it all was undeniable, and I couldn’t help but think to myself that this was, without a doubt, the best first date I had ever experienced.

Every moment with Alexia felt special, and I couldn’t wait to see where things would go from here.

After that incredible date, she drove me back to my place, but before I could even get out of the car, she practically begged me to stay over at her apartment.

She knew she'd be leaving again for Mexico the day after tomorrow, and neither of us wanted the night to end. The thought of being apart so soon made it impossible for me to say no, so I immediately agreed.

We went up to my apartment so I could gather some essentials—just a small bag with clothes, a toothbrush, and a few other things I thought I might need.

She patiently waited in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smile, watching me as I hurried around.

Once I had everything, we headed back to her apartment. The moment we walked in, the atmosphere felt cozy and intimate, like our own little world where time didn’t matter. We decided to watch a movie, but it quickly became background noise.

Instead of focusing on the screen, we found ourselves wrapped up in each other—sharing inside jokes, laughing until our stomachs hurt, and stealing kisses every chance we got.

Every time I looked at her, I felt this overwhelming desire to be close to her, to feel her warmth.

I couldn’t get enough—I wanted to keep kissing her, to hold her tighter, to make the most of every moment we had together before she had to leave again.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, but even as we grew tired, we didn’t want to let go of each other.

When we finally made our way to bed, we ended up in a tangle of limbs, with me practically draped over her. The weight of my body against hers was comforting, and as I rested my head on her chest, I could feel her heartbeat—a steady, reassuring rhythm that lulled me into relaxation.

Her hand slipped under my shirt, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along my back, moving up and down in soothing strokes that sent shivers through me.

Her touch was so tender, so familiar, that it made my heart ache with how much I loved her. Just as I was on the edge of sleep, I heard her soft voice whisper, “Buenas noches, mi amor.” (Good night my love)

Those words, filled with affection, were the last thing I remembered as I drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, feeling safe and cherished in her arms.

——

The next morning came all too soon, and I found myself once again wrapped in Alexia’s warm embrace as we prepared to say our goodbyes.

The weight of the moment hung between us, knowing she would be leaving for Mexico the next day. We wouldn’t have a chance to see each other for the rest of the day either, with both of us caught up in a whirlwind of last-minute tasks and responsibilities. It made these final moments all the more bittersweet.

Standing near the front door, our bodies pressed close together, I whispered against her lips, “I’ll miss you.”

My voice was soft, barely audible, as if speaking the words aloud would make them more real, more painful.

Her arms tightened around me, and she responded between kisses, “Me too.” Her words were simple but laced with the same longing I felt.

Every kiss felt like a promise, a reassurance that even though we’d be apart, our connection wouldn’t waver.

We lingered in that embrace, savoring every second, every touch, as if trying to make time slow down.

Our kisses grew deeper, more intense, as if we could somehow make up for the days we would be apart. But eventually, reality set in, and we had to pull away, reluctantly creating space between us.

I let out a small sigh, trying to muster the willpower to leave. “Okay, I need to go now, or I’ll never leave,” I said with a half-smile, bending down to pick up my bag.

The idea of walking out that door felt harder than it should have.

Alexia moved to open the door for me, but not without one last gesture. She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “Adios, bebé. I’ll see you in a week,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm, trying to make the separation feel bearable.

“Bye, Ale,” I replied, taking a few steps towards the door, but before I could make my exit, I felt her hand slip into mine, pulling me back slightly.

“Wait,” she said with that playful smile I adored so much. “Please, look both ways before crossing the road, okay?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, a mix of affection and exasperation bubbling up. With a teasing huff, I reached up to pinch her cheek lightly. “I will,” I promised, shaking my head at her protective nature.

As I finally walked away, I could feel her eyes on me, and I turned back for one last glance. There she was, standing in the doorway, watching me go with that familiar look of love and concern. It made me want to run back and stay just a little longer, but I knew we’d both have to be strong until we were together again.

——

Today marked the first day back at school, and I found myself surprisingly eager to return to work. There’s something invigorating about the start of a new school year—the buzz of excitement in the air, the fresh faces of the children, and the feeling of diving back into a routine that brings a sense of purpose.

I’ve missed the chatter, the laughter, and even the chaos that comes with being surrounded by kids. It felt good to be back in the classroom, and I couldn’t wait to reconnect with all the students and hear about their summer adventures.

But even with all that enthusiasm for work, there was something, or rather someone, who occupied my thoughts all day. Alexia. She had just returned from Mexico late last night, and after a whole week of not seeing her, I was practically counting down the minutes until we could finally be together tonight.

Sure, we stayed in touch while she was away—texting whenever we could and squeezing in late-night calls—but it wasn’t the same as being able to hold her, to see her smile in person.

The anticipation of being in her arms again was almost overwhelming.

Tonight, we’d be celebrating her victory with a small, intimate gathering organized by Alba and a few close friends. It was a chance for Alexia to unwind and celebrate her achievements surrounded by the people who mattered most—her friends, her family, and me.

And while I was excited to be part of that, there was a tiny knot of uncertainty in my stomach. I mean, I’ll be there as... her girlfriend? Wait, can I even call myself that? I wasn’t entirely sure.

Even though Alexia and I had been acting like a couple—holding hands, stealing kisses, sharing moments that felt undeniably romantic—we hadn’t had that official conversation.

Nothing had been defined, and I found myself wondering where exactly we stood and I wasn’t sure if it was too soon to bring it up. After all, our first date was only a week ago, and she’d been away for most of that time.

So, for now, I decided to let things be. I wanted to give Alexia some space and time to figure out how she felt. There was no need to rush into any deep conversations about labels and commitments just yet.

Tonight wasn’t about that—it was about celebrating her success and being there for her in this moment. I’d focus on enjoying the evening, being present, and sharing in her happiness. The rest, well, it could wait until the time felt right.

“Nos veremos esta noche, ¿verdad? ¿Necesitas que pase a recogerte? Ya estoy recogiendo an Alexia y Marina, así que puedo pasar a buscarte también” (I’ll see you tonight, right? Do you need me to come pick you up? I’m already picking up Alexia and Marina, so I can swing by and get you too) Alba asked as we stood in the parking lot after work, her tone light and cheerful as usual.

The mention of Marina’s name made my stomach churn. Marina? That girl is coming too? I immediately felt my enthusiasm drain away. Just hearing her name makes me want to scream… or maybe throw up.

“Espera, ¿Marina viene también?” (Wait, Marina’s coming?) I asked, trying to mask the disbelief in my voice but failing miserably. I had completely forgotten that I’m the only one in our circle who can’t stand her.

Everyone else seems to think she’s great, but they don’t know the real Marina like I do.

“Sí, ella viene” (Yeah, she is) Alba replied, smiling softly, clearly picking up on my discomfort. She always tries to be considerate, but in this case, it just made things worse.

I bit my lip, weighing my options. Maybe I could fake being sick or come up with a convincing excuse. Anything to avoid spending the evening with Marina.

“Hmm… en realidad, no estoy tan seguro de ir… No me he estado sintiendo muy bien” (Um… actually, I’m not so sure about going… I haven’t been feeling great) I said hesitantly, hoping to sound convincing enough that Alba wouldn’t press the issue.

The truth was, the thought of being in the same room as Marina made my skin crawl. She always brought up too many bad memories, things I’d rather forget. I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing her face or hearing her voice again.

And if I’m being honest, it hurt knowing that Alba, Alexia, and even our mutual friends actually liked her. Maybe they didn’t see the side of her that I did. To them, she was always so sweet and charming, but with me, it was a different story.

“¿Qué? No, no, no” (What? No, no, no) Alba protested, clearly unconvinced. “¿Qué quieres decir con que no te sientes bien? Estuviste bien todo el día” (What do you mean you’re not feeling well? You looked fine all day.) She reached out and touched my forehead, checking for a fever like she was my mom.

I swatted her hand away, a bit annoyed, just as a look of realization crossed her face.

“No vas a venir por Marina, ¿verdad?” (You’re not coming because of Marina, aren’t you?) she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief as the pieces fell into place.

I sighed heavily, finally giving in. “Sí, Alba. No quiero ir por Marina” (Yes, Alba. I don’t want to go because of Marina) I admitted, fiddling with my car keys, the cool metal a distraction from the conversation I didn’t want to have.

Alba’s expression softened, but she wasn’t giving up. “Y/N, no puedes dejar que ella arruine nuestra noche. Solo ignórala. Nos divertiremos, te lo prometo” (Y/N, you can’t let her ruin our night. Just ignore her. We’ll have fun, I promise) she urged, her voice gentle but persistent.

“No, Alba. No puedo simplemente ignorarla. No entiendes lo difícil que es para mí” (No, Alba. I can’t just ignore her. You don’t understand how hard it is for me) I said firmly, meeting her gaze. “Es fácil para ti decir eso porque no sientes lo mismo que yo. No puedo fingir estar feliz sentado en la misma habitación que la ex de Alexia, especialmente alguien que claramente no me agrada” (It’s easy for you to say that because you don’t feel the way I do. I can’t pretend to be happy sitting in the same room as Alexia’s ex. Especially someone who clearly doesn’t like me.)

Alba looked down at the pavement for a moment, guilt flickering across her face before she met my eyes again. “Está bien, lo entiendo. No tienes que venir si realmente no quieres” (Okay, I get it. You don’t have to come if you really don’t want to) she said, biting her lip, clearly torn. “Pero es que… siento que Alexia se decepcionará si no estás allí.”(But I just… I feel like Alexia will be disappointed if you’re not there)

Hearing that made my heart sink a little. I knew Alba wasn’t trying to guilt-trip me, but it still stung. I wanted to be there for Alexia, but not if it meant putting myself through the torture of dealing with Marina.

Still, I could see the conflict in Alba’s eyes, and I hated that this situation was causing tension between us.

“Por favor, Y/N, no te estoy pidiendo que lo hagas por Marina. Lo estoy pidiendo por Alexia. Tú y yo sabemos cuánto le gustaría que estuvieras allí. Es su fiesta, y se sentiría muy decepcionada si no vinieras. Por favor…” (Please, Y/N, I’m not asking you to do this for Marina. I’m asking for Alexia. You and I both know how much she’d want you there. It’s her party, and she would be so disappointed if you didn’t come. Please…) she said, practically pleading.

She’s right. I should set aside my feelings about Marina and think about Alexia. It’s her special day, and it’s important to celebrate it with her, even if I’m not thrilled about Marina’s presence.

I let out a long sigh, feeling defeated. “Está bien, está bien. Solo ven a recogerme” (Alright, fine. Just come pick me up.)

“Yes!” she shouted, her face lighting up with joy. She bounced up and down with excitement. “¡Vamos a pasar un tiempo increíble! Te prometo que lo disfrutarás” (We’re going to have an amazing time! I promise you’ll enjoy it) she added, pulling me into a warm hug.

“Yes, so much fun…” I muttered under my breath, trying to muster a smile despite my reluctance.

——

I heard a honk outside and, glancing through the window, saw Alba’s car waiting at the curb.

Hurriedly, I finished tying my shoes, grabbed my bag, and dashed out of my apartment. As I approached the car, I noticed Alba and Marina sitting in the front seats, chatting away.

But it was Alexia, standing near the front of the car, who really caught my attention. The moment our eyes met, a wide smile spread across my face, and I could see her mirror my expression with the same enthusiasm.

Without thinking, I practically ran towards her. As I got closer, she opened her arms, and I threw myself into them, feeling the warmth and familiarity of her embrace.

She hugged me tightly, lifting me off the ground effortlessly, making me feel lighter both physically and emotionally.

When we finally pulled back from the hug, Alexia looked into my eyes for a brief moment, then leaned in to kiss me. It was soft and familiar, and I found myself melting into it.

After a few lingering seconds, we pulled away, our smiles returning as we looked at each other.

“Te extrañé tanto, mi amor” (I missed you so much, my love ) she whispered, her voice full of affection. I couldn’t help but echo her words, my heart swelling with warmth.

Over her shoulder, I noticed Alba and Marina watching us. Alba had a huge grin on her face, clearly enjoying the moment and teasing us by making exaggerated kissing motions with her lips.

Meanwhile, Marina was glaring at me, her eyes sharp before she dramatically rolled them and focused on her phone, clearly not amused by the scene.

Once we all piled into the car, Alexia took the middle seat right beside me. She immediately reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers as we settled in for the ride.

Her presence next to me felt reassuring, even as I caught Marina occasionally glaring at me through the rearview mirror. I decided to ignore it, focusing instead on the warmth of Alexia’s hand in mine and the comfortable conversation we were having.

We chatted about our day, plans for the weekend, and just shared small, affectionate moments throughout the drive.

As we neared the restaurant, Alexia leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, “Hey, por cierto, el sábado vamos a tener una noche de juegos en mi apartamento con los demás. Por favor, ven también” (Hey, by the way Saturday, we’re having game night at my apartment with the others, please come too?)

She gently traced circles on the back of my hand with her thumb as she spoke, her voice full of hope.

“Of course ” I replied softly, my heart fluttering at the idea. I leaned in and kissed her again, a sweet, lingering kiss.

——

We finally arrived at the restaurant where the intimate gathering would take place. The air was filled with excitement, and the soft glow of the evening lights made the atmosphere feel warm and welcoming.

One by one, we all stepped out of the car, and as soon as Alexia set foot on the pavement, Marina quickly approached her.

With a wide smile on her face, she gently took Alexia’s hand in hers, guiding her toward the entrance of the restaurant. The sight of them together brought a pang of something indescribable to my chest.

As they walked away, Alexia turned back to me, her eyes soft and apologetic as she offered me a small, regretful smile, almost as if she wished she could be walking with me instead.

Alba, noticing my hesitation, came up to me with her usual warmth. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a comforting embrace, her voice gentle as she whispered, “Vamos, amor.”

Her touch brought me back to the moment, and with a reassuring nod, she led me towards the restaurant, her presence a reminder that I wasn't alone in this.

Alba had gone all out for this event, renting out the entire restaurant so that it was just Alexia’s closest family and friends gathered inside.

The moment we stepped through the doors, a wave of cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, all for Alexia.

The room buzzed with energy and love, the kind of atmosphere that makes you feel both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed at the same time.

After mingling with everyone for what felt like hours, I started to feel the weight of exhaustion settling in.

The heat inside the restaurant wasn’t helping either, making the space feel even more suffocating.

Needing a break, I decided to slip outside for a moment, just to catch my breath and escape the noise.

Outside, I found a small, secluded corner with a few cozy chairs set up. It was the perfect spot to unwind and clear my head, so I sank into one of the chairs, grateful for the quiet.

The cool night air brushed against my skin, offering a much-needed relief from the warmth inside.

I had only been sitting there for a short while when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around and looked up to see Marina standing there, her expression unreadable.

My brows furrowed in confusion—of all people, I hadn’t expected her to follow me out here.

“Mantente alejado de Alexia” (Stay away from Alexia) she demanded, her tone cold and unyielding as she fixed me with a sharp glare.

“Que?” (What?)I replied, disbelief lacing my voice. The abruptness of her words caught me off guard.

“Me oíste” (You heard me) she repeated, her eyes narrowing. “No te la mereces. Ella merece alguien mucho mejor que tú” (You don't deserve her. She deserves so much better than you)

Her words stung, but I refused to let her see how much they affected me. “Fuck you” I shot back in english, standing up from my seat and preparing to walk away.

But before I could, Marina grabbed my wrist, her grip tight.

“Nunca te amará como me amó a mí” (She'll never love you like she loved me) she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “Ella me dijo, una y otra vez, que yo era el amor de su vida. Íbamos a casarnos y vivir felices para siempre—me lo dijo ella misma” (She told me, over and over again, that I was the love of her life. We were supposed to get married, live happily ever after—she told me that herself.)

I could see the satisfaction in her eyes as she tried to rattle me, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of backing down. “Ella TE AMABA” (She LOVED you) I retorted, emphasizing the past tense. “Ya no más, idiota. Tú no eres el que sale en citas con ella, la besa o está con ella románticamente. Eso soy yo ahora” (Not anymore, you idiot. You're not the one who gets to go on dates with her, kiss her, or be with her romantically. That's me now.)

I yanked my wrist free from her grip, the anger boiling inside me as I took a step back, putting distance between us.

Marina's smirk wavered briefly, but then she leaned in closer, so close that I could feel her breath on my face.

Her eyes were locked on mine, filled with a mixture of defiance and something almost challenging.

She was just about to say something else, her lips parting, when a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Y/N?”

I turned around and saw Alexia standing a few feet away, her face etched with concern. Her eyes flicked between Marina and me, clearly sensing that something wasn’t right. “¿Todo está bien?” (Is everything okay?) she asked, her voice gentle but laced with worry.

Before I could even respond, Marina beat me to it. “Todo está bien, Alexia, no te preocupes” (Everything’s fine, Alexia, don’t worry) she said smoothly, flashing one of those fake smiles that seemed all too practiced. It was the kind of smile that could fool most people, but not me. And from the way Alexia looked at her, not Alexia either.

Alexia’s gaze lingered on me, her concern deepening as she studied my face. I felt my stomach twist, and I quickly looked away, biting my lip nervously to avoid her questioning eyes.

I could feel the weight of her stare, searching for answers I wasn’t ready to give.

“Regresémonos a tu fiesta, Ale” (Let’s go back to your party, Ale) Marina suggested, taking a step forward and slipping her hand into Alexia’s, trying to pull her away from the moment.

But Alexia gently pulled her hand free from Marina’s grasp. “Tú sigue adelante” (You go ahead) she said softly but firmly. “Solo quiero hablar con Y/N un momento” (I just want to talk to Y/N for a moment.)

Marina’s eyes darted between us, clearly reluctant to leave. She hesitated for a second, but then nodded, masking her frustration with another one of her forced smiles.

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Alexia’s cheek, her eyes lingering on me for just a moment longer before she finally walked away.

As soon as Marina was gone, Alexia stepped closer to me, her presence immediately soothing. She placed her hands gently on either side of my face, her touch warm and familiar. “Are you okay, bebé ?” she asked, her voice soft and full of concern.

Her eyes searched mine, trying to understand what had just happened.

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat, but I couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I hate her,” I blurted out, my voice barely above a whisper.

I hadn’t planned on saying it, not now, not like this, but the frustration and anger I had been bottling up finally spilled over.

Alexia looked taken aback for a moment, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Who? Marina? Why?” she asked, her voice full of genuine concern.

She searched my face, trying to piece together what had triggered this sudden outburst.

Taking a deep breath, I started to explain everything. I told her about the first time I met Marina, how from the very beginning, there was something off about the way she spoke to me, the way her eyes seemed to judge me.

I explained how Marina’s words had cut into me, how she made me feel small and unworthy. I described how tense it had been whenever she was around, the constant undercurrent of hostility that I could never quite shake.

I even confessed my worries about their trip to Bali. How seeing them together, so close, made me feel uneasy. I knew I should trust Alexia, but the way Marina clung to her, the familiarity they shared, it gnawed at me.

And then tonight, when Marina confronted me, telling me I didn’t deserve Alexia, it was like all those buried feelings suddenly rose to the surface.

Alexia listened quietly, her hands never leaving my face. Her expression shifted from confusion to understanding, and finally, to a soft, compassionate gaze.

When I finished, there was a moment of silence between us, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

Finally, Alexia spoke, her voice gentle and reassuring. “No tenía idea de que te sentías así. Lo siento mucho. No debiste haber pasado por eso solo” (I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.) Her thumbs gently stroked my cheeks, her eyes filled with sincerity as she continued. “You’re the one I want to be with, Y/N. No one else. Marina is my past. You’re my present and my future.”

Hearing her say those words brought a wave of relief over me, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I just didn’t know how to tell you,” I admitted softly, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief.

Alexia pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me close. “No tienes que enfrentar esto solo, cariño” (You don’t have to face this alone, baby) she whispered into my hair.

I felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me as I finally let everything out to Alexia. Not once did she question or doubt me; throughout the entire conversation, she listened intently, trusting every word I said.

Her belief in me, without hesitation, made me feel seen and understood in a way that I desperately needed.

As we pulled away from our embrace, Alexia leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t just a simple kiss—it was soft, tender, yet filled with a deep, burning passion that made my heart race. Her lips moved slowly against mine, savoring every moment.

Gradually, she parted my lips with hers, gently slipping her tongue into my mouth. The sensation was intoxicating, and I couldn’t help but respond by wrapping my arms even tighter around her neck, pulling her closer.

Our tongues began to dance together, slow and sensual, each movement deliberate and full of emotion. It was as if time had slowed down, and all that existed was the connection between us.

The kiss deepened, becoming more intense, yet still maintaining that careful, passionate rhythm. Every touch, every caress of her tongue against mine, spoke volumes—words of reassurance, love, and unspoken promises that everything would be okay as long as we were together.

But we were interrupted by a deliberately loud cough. Turning around, we saw Alba standing there with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Vamos, enamorados, es hora del pastel” (Come on, lovers, it’s time for the cake) she said playfully, and then turned on her heel to head back inside.

“Vamos, amor,” Alexia said, gently wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing a soft kiss to my temple. She whispered reassuringly, “Lo resolveré, lo prometo” (I’ll sort this out, I promise) and I smiled at her, feeling comforted.

For the rest of the evening, Alexia remained by my side. She was constantly close to me, her touch a constant reassurance. Whether it was her arms draped around my shoulders or waist, or her hand resting warmly on my thigh while we sat, she made sure I felt her presence.

Meanwhile, Marina continued to glare at me from across the room. Her looks were so intense that it felt as if they could pierce through me. If stares could kill, I’d be six feet under.

——

The party had finally come to an end, and I was utterly exhausted. After hours of mingling, dancing, and celebrating, it was a relief when we all gathered to say our goodbyes.

As we stepped outside into the cool night air, Alexia, Alba, Marina, and I made our way to the car, ready to head home.

In my mind, I figured we’d settle into the same seats we had on the way there—keeping things simple and familiar. But, of course, Marina had other ideas.

Without hesitation, she made her way to the backseat, where Alexia was already comfortably seated, and slid in beside her. I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of annoyance but decided not to make a fuss.

Instead, I silently took my place in the front passenger seat, feeling a bit put out by the change in seating arrangements.

Just as I was fastening my seatbelt, Alexia turned to Alba and said, “Alba, cambiemos de asientos. Yo conduciré” (Alba, let's swap seats. I’ll drive) Her voice was calm but decisive, and before I could even process it, she was already stepping out of the car to make the switch.

Alba, too tired to protest, simply nodded and got out of the driver’s seat, making her way to the back without a word.

She was clearly as drained as the rest of us, and the prospect of letting someone else handle the drive home was a welcome relief.

Alexia took over the driver’s seat, and as she settled in, she looked over at me with a mischievous, teasing smile. It was the kind of smile that made me chuckle inwardly, knowing she was up to something.

I couldn't help but smile back, appreciating the subtle yet calculated move she’d just made.

As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I caught sight of Marina’s expression. She was frowning, clearly displeased with the way things had unfolded. It was obvious that she wasn’t happy about the seating arrangement, and that brought a small, satisfied smirk to my lips.

That’s right, Marina, she doesn’t want to sit next to you. Bitch.

With a smooth turn of the key, Alexia started the car, and we began the drive home, the hum of the engine filling the silence.

The night outside was peaceful, a sharp contrast to the lively atmosphere of the party we had just left behind. At some point during the drive, I felt Alexia’s hand gently rest on my knee, a warm and comforting gesture that instantly made me relax. Without thinking, I reached down and placed my hand over hers, our fingers naturally intertwining.

Alexia lifted our joined hands and brought them to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand.

The simple, affectionate gesture made me smile, and I glanced over at her, feeling a quiet happiness settle over me. Moments like this, shared in the quiet of the night, made everything else fade into the background.

Finally arriving at my apartment, I unbuckled my seatbelt and took a deep breath. “Muchas gracias por el ride. Realmente me divertí mucho esta noche. Buenas noches, chicas.” (Thank you so much for the ride. I really had a great time tonight. Goodnight, girls) I said with a smile, directing my words mostly to Alexia and Alba, before stepping out of the car.

“Espera, te acompañaré hasta la puerta” (Wait, I’ll walk you to your door) Alexia quickly offered, already unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

“Si us plau, Alexia, afanya’t! Estic esgotada i només vull tornar a casa” (Please, Alexia, hurry up! I’m exhausted and just want to go home) Marina grumbled in Catalan from the backseat. Although I couldn’t understand what she said, but knowing her it might be something stupid.

Alexia just nodded at her words without responding and gently closed the car door behind her. She came around to my side and took my hand, her touch warm and reassuring as she led me to the entrance of my building. The night air was cool, and the quiet of the street felt like a peaceful contrast to the earlier excitement.

When we reached my apartment door, I fumbled with the keys for a moment before unlocking it. Turning to Alexia, I smiled and said, “Thank you, Ale. I really appreciate you walking me up.”

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her close. Her arms slid around my waist, and she leaned in, kissing me softly.

The feeling of her lips against mine sent a wave of warmth through me, and I savored the moment, not wanting it to end.

"My pleasure, mi amor," she whispered against my lips, her voice tender and full of affection. As she held me close, she gently squeezed me, her embrace making me feel safe and cherished.

Her eyes locked with mine, and she smiled softly, a look of pure love and contentment on her face.

“What is it?” I asked, mirroring her smile, feeling a quiet happiness settle between us.

“Nothing,” she said smiling softly.

I furrowed my brows playfully.

She grinned teasingly at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned in for another kiss. Just as our lips were about to meet, the sound of a honk from the car broke the moment.

Alexia sighed softly but then gave me a quick peck on the lips. “ Está bien, cariño, tengo que irme ahora. Que tengas una buena noche, y te veré pronto” (Alright, baby, I need to go now. Have a good night, and I’ll see you soon) she said, her voice reluctant but loving. She kissed me once more, this time lingering for a moment longer before finally pulling away.

As she turned to leave, I watched her walk back to the car, feeling the warmth of her presence linger even after she was gone.

——

On Saturday night, I found myself at Alexia’s apartment, surrounded by her friends for a lively game night. The atmosphere was buzzing with laughter and chatter, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Well, almost everyone.

Marina was there too, Alexia apologized she did not know that she was coming, Mark had invited her. From the moment I stepped through the door, she had been glaring at me like I was her worst enemy. It wasn’t surprising—she had a habit of throwing daggers my way whenever we were in the same room. What else is new?

I tried not to let her icy stares get to me as I busied myself in the kitchen, refilling a bowl of chips for everyone. As I reached for the bag, I suddenly felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me into a warm embrace.

A soft, lingering kiss was placed on the side of my neck, and I instantly relaxed, knowing it was Alexia.

“The next game, you’re on my team. Alba’s terrible—I keep losing because of her,” Alexia mumbled against my neck, her voice laced with playful frustration.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her complaint, the sound bubbling up easily as I leaned my head back against her shoulder. I tilted my face up to hers, planting a series of light kisses on her cheek, one after another, as if to soothe her grumpiness.

“Please stay the night here,” she murmured, her tone softer now, as she gently swayed us from side to side. “Y mañana, podemos ir a comer juntos” (And tomorrow, we can go on a lunch date.)

Her request was sweet and impossible to resist. How could I say no to spending more time with her?

“I’d love to spend the night here,” I replied, my voice just as gentle. The thought of staying over and then enjoying a relaxed lunch date the next day sounded perfect.

Before we could get too lost in the moment, Alba’s loud voice echoed from the living room, interrupting us. “¡Y/N! Estamos esperando las patatas, ¡date prisa!” (Y/N! We’re waiting for the chips, hurry up!)

I chuckled at her impatience and gently pushed Alexia away, though I was reluctant to leave the comfort of her arms. "Vamos," I said with a grin, taking her hand and leading us back to the living room where the rest of the group was waiting.

As we returned to the couch, I couldn’t help but notice Marina’s eyes on us again, her expression as sour as ever. But I didn’t let it bother me. Instead, I squeezed Alexia’s hand, feeling content and happy to be by her side.

After continuing with our games for a while, we decided to take a short break. I casually announced that I was heading to the bathroom and left the group, leaving behind the lively chatter and laughter that filled Alexia’s apartment.

In the bathroom, I took a moment to freshen up, washing my hands and collecting my thoughts. But as I turned to leave, I found Marina blocking the doorway, her eyes fixed on me with a cold intensity.

The air felt heavy with tension, and I knew immediately that this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter.

“Que?” (What?) I asked, frustration bubbling up inside me as I faced her.

“Te dije que te mantuvieras alejado de Alexia” (I told you to stay away from Alexia) she hissed, her voice sharp and menacing.

I met her gaze without flinching. “Y yo te dije que Alexia no te quiere. Ella no te ama” (And I told you that Alexia doesn’t want you. She doesn’t love you) I replied firmly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Marina’s expression shifted, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “¿Es así? Entonces, ¿por qué me invitó a su casa mañana por la noche?” (Is that so? Then why did she invite me over to her house tomorrow night?) she sneered, clearly enjoying the confusion that flashed across my face.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I furrowed my brows in disbelief. Why would Alexia invite Marina over tomorrow night? My mind raced with questions, doubts creeping in despite my best efforts to push them away.

“Es cierto” (That’s right) Marina continued, her voice dripping with malice. “Te lo dije, no te la mereces. ¿De verdad crees que alguien como Alexia se enamoraría de alguien como tú?” (I told you, you don’t deserve her. You really think someone like Alexia would fall in love with someone like you?)

Her words cut deep, and for a moment, I felt the weight of insecurity settle over me. I stood there, struggling to find a response, still reeling from the idea of Alexia inviting Marina over. My confidence wavered, and I started to question everything.

But before I could say anything, Alexia suddenly appeared in the doorway, her presence instantly calming me. She strode over to us with a determined look, positioning herself between me and Marina as if shielding me from the venomous words that had just been spoken.

“Sal de mi apartamento” (Get out of my apartment) Alexia said coldly, her voice firm and unyielding as she stared Marina down.

Marina’s confident smirk faltered, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. “¿Qué? ¿Por qué?” (What? Why?) she stammered, her voice suddenly uncertain.

“No le hablas así. No te amo, no te quiero y nunca lo haré” (You don’t talk to her like that. I don’t love you, I don’t want you, and I never will) Alexia said with a calm but fierce determination. Her words were like a declaration, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “Ella es la única que quiero—nadie más” (She’s the only one I want—no one else) she continued, her finger pointing at me with unwavering certainty.

“Pero… me invitaste a tu casa mañana por la noche para una cita” (But... you invited me over tomorrow night for a date) Marina sputtered, her voice wavering as the realization that she’d misread the situation started to sink in.

“No,” Alexia corrected, her tone icy. “Te invité para hablar sobre la forma en que has estado tratando a Y/N. Pero ahora, lo dejaré muy claro: no debes acercarte an ella, a mí ni a mi hermana nunca máss” (I invited you over to discuss the way you’ve been treating Y/N. But now, I’ll make this very clear—you are not to go near her, me, or my sister ever again.) Alexia’s voice grew more intense, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer to Marina, her presence radiating protectiveness.

Relief flooded through me as her words sank in. The doubt that had momentarily clouded my mind vanished, replaced by a deep sense of trust. Of course, Alexia hadn’t invited Marina over for a date. I couldn’t believe I had doubted her, even for a second.

“Ahora, sal de mi apartamento antes de que te lo haga” (Now, get out of my apartment before I make you) Alexia added, her voice low and filled with menace.

Marina looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her tough exterior had crumbled, and all that was left was a girl who had overplayed her hand. She nodded quickly, not daring to argue further, and hurried out of the apartment.

As soon as she was gone, Alexia turned to me, her expression softening. She gently cupped my face in her hands, her touch warm and reassuring. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. The tension that had been building up inside me melted away in her embrace, and I felt safe, secure.

“Don’t thank me, cariño,” Alexia murmured into my hair. “I should have cut her off the moment you told me what she said to you the other night.” She pressed a tender kiss to the top of my head, and I sighed contentedly.

She pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on my cheeks as she studied my face. “¿Necesitas un minuto? ¿O estás lista para volver con los demás?” (Do you need a minute? Or are you ready to go back to the others?) she asked, her thumb gently brushing across my skin in a soothing gesture.

I smiled, feeling lighter and more at ease than I had in a long time. “It’s okay. We can go back,” I told her, feeling genuinely relieved and happy that Marina was finally out of our lives for good.

We made our way back to the living room, where the atmosphere had shifted to one of curiosity and confusion. All eyes were on us as we walked in.

Mark was the first to break the silence, his voice filled with bewilderment. “¿Qué demonios acaba de pasar? Marina salió corriendo del apartamento sin decir una palabra” (What the hell just happened? Marina just bolted out of the apartment without saying a word.)

Alexia and I exchanged a glance before explaining everything that had just unfolded. As we told the story, the shock on everyone’s faces was clear.

“Qué perra. Mejor así” (What a bitch. Good riddance) Mark muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No puedo creer que la invité a Bali con nosotros.”(I can’t believe I invited her to Bali with us) Bianca said with a look of disgust. The rest of the group nodded in agreement, their expressions mirroring her revulsion.

One by one, they began apologizing for not realizing sooner how much Marina’s presence had affected me. I finally opened up about how it had hurt when they invited her to Bali, how it made me feel like I was being replaced.

They immediately jumped in with reassurances, insisting that they would never replace me and pulling me into a group hug that felt sincere and warm.

I could see that they genuinely felt bad, especially Alba. She looked particularly upset and even joked that the next time she saw Marina, she wouldn’t hesitate to punch her.

Her words made us all laugh, and I felt a sense of closure, knowing that I was surrounded by people who truly cared about me.

After playing a few more rounds of games, the night slowly came to an end. One by one, everyone said their goodbyes, leaving with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug.

Once Alba hugged me, she leaned in slightly and whispered in my ear, “Diviértete” (Have fun) with a playful tone. She then pulled away, her face lit up with a mischievous grin. I responded by playfully slapping her on the shoulder, grinning as I did.

The laughter and conversation that had filled Alexia’s apartment gradually faded, leaving a peaceful quiet in their wake.

Once it was just the two of us, Alexia and I made our way to her bedroom. She handed me a set of comfortable clothes to sleep in, and as I changed, I couldn’t help but smile at how natural and easy everything felt with her. It was like we’d been doing this forever.

We settled into bed together, a cozy movie playing in the background, but my attention was focused more on Alexia than the screen.

I nestled against her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat under my ear. Her hand moved slowly through my hair, each gentle stroke lulling me into a deeper state of relaxation.

Occasionally, her lips would brush against my forehead, the soft, fleeting kisses sending a warmth through me that I couldn’t quite put into words.

In that moment, I felt completely at ease, more relaxed than I’d been in a long time. Everything seemed to be falling into place—except for one lingering question that kept nudging at the back of my mind.

What exactly were Alexia and I now? We acted like a couple, sharing these intimate moments, but she hadn’t officially asked me to be her girlfriend.

And maybe I should be the one to ask her, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right time. The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I decided to push it aside for now.

I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow during our date, I reassured myself. Right now, lying here with her, I felt so content and happy that I didn’t want to spoil the moment with overthinking. This was our time, and I wanted to savor every second of it.

As the night went on, the movie became a soft hum in the background, and I found myself drifting off to sleep, still wrapped in Alexia’s arms. Her presence was comforting, her touch soothing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so safe, so cherished.

When I finally closed my eyes, I fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of my life, knowing that tomorrow would bring the answers I needed. But for now, I was simply happy being right where I was, with her.

——

I woke up to the sensation of soft kisses being placed all over my face.

“Wake up, amor,” I heard Alexia’s raspy voice whispering close to my ear.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Alexia gazing at me with a gentle and affectionate look. “Bon dia,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

“I’m awake,” I replied, stretching and rubbing my eyes after a few moments.

“Puedes arreglarte primero; yo te esperaré” (You can freshen up first; I’ll wait for you) she said with a tender kiss on my forehead before she left the room.

Breakfast was a delightful affair, filled with Alexia’s amazing cooking. We enjoyed a spread of delicious food, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how well she cooked. The meal was accompanied by laughter and stories from her recent trip to Mexico.

After breakfast, we spent a relaxed morning together—watching TV, laughing, and sharing affectionate moments until it was time to head out for our date.

Alexia had once again let me borrow some of her clothes. I adored her style, and her clothes always had that lovely, comforting scent.

“You look beautiful,” Alexia said, taking in my outfit with a warm, appreciative gaze as I blushed.

“Thank you, Ale. You look beautiful too,” I replied, smiling back at her. She responded with a soft, loving smile, holding out her hands for me to take.

“Vamos, mi amor,” she said, intertwining our fingers and giving me a sweet kiss before we left the apartment.

On the way to her car, Alexia was full of affectionate gestures—opening doors for me, kissing my cheek and lips, and showering me with compliments.

Once we were in the car, her hand settled on my knee—a gesture that had become a comforting habit.

After a short drive, we arrived at the restaurant, and I couldn’t help but beam with happiness. It was the same place where we had first met. I looked at her with a knowing smile.

“I love this place. How did you know?” I teased playfully.

“Lucky guess,” she replied with a mischievous grin.

We walked hand in hand to the restaurant, our fingers interlaced. Once seated at our table, we placed our orders and chatted eagerly as we waited for our food.

Our hands remained intertwined on the table as we talked about everything under the sun, savoring each other’s company.

When our food finally arrived—I had, of course, ordered the paella—we eagerly dug in. Amid the conversation, I found myself hesitating to bring up a topic that had been on my mind. Alexia had expressed a desire for us to officially date and for her to be my girlfriend while we were in Australia, but she hadn’t asked me directly since then. I wondered where we stood.

Suddenly, Alexia broke the silence with a question that took me by surprise. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I stared at her, momentarily stunned and caught off guard. “What?” I managed to say, my mind still racing.

Alexia smiled gently and repeated, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Looking at her with a mix of excitement and affection, I replied, “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Her face lit up with joy as she laughed softly. Leaning across the table, we shared a passionate kiss.

When she pulled back, she whispered “I’m so in love with you”

She’s in love with me. I’ve been waiting for what feels like an eternity to hear those exact words from her. When she finally spoke them, it was like a dream come true.

The way her eyes lit up as she confessed her feelings, and the warmth in her voice made my heart soar.

It felt absolutely incredible to finally hear those words, to know that her love for me is as deep and true as I had always hoped.

“I’m so in love with you too,” I responded, leaning in once more for another kiss.

Words failed to capture the overwhelming happiness I felt in that moment. I was brimming with joy.

“I can’t believe we met at this restaurant, you friend-zoned me here, and now you’ve asked me to be your girlfriend here,” I said, laughing softly as we pulled away from our kiss.

She smiled warmly and joked, “Maybe we’ll get married at this restaurant too.” The idea of marriage made my heart race. We had only been officially together for less than 15 minutes, and here we were, already talking about marriage.

Well, spoiler alert: we didn’t end up getting married at that restaurant, but Alexia did propose to me there, turning that place into a cherished spot in our story.

FIN

[pedroscurls]

training partners

summary: you hire a new personal trainer to get you back on track, but you don't realize that she's also hugh jackman's trainer until you show up to the gym. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), sexual tension (lingering gazes, teasing / complimentary banter, soft touches - come on, hugh jackman will be spotting you), no use of y/n. word count: 5.7k a/n: ok, so this is my first real person fanfic in a very long time. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman and this is purely fictional (all in my delulu mind). next part.

That night, your trainer sent you a text to let you know that your next session tomorrow morning with her would include another person. You didn’t mind, though, you had been training with her for over three months now and she had gotten you back on track. Not only with your physical health, but you were back on track to loving yourself and putting yourself first. 

Your boyfriend of three years had broken up with you before you hired your personal trainer. Throughout that relationship, you had let yourself go. You prioritized him in ways that you never planned to and the feelings were never reciprocated. You always put more into the relationship than he did. You were heartbroken though and still recovering from losing him, but you had come to realize that him breaking up with you was a blessing in disguise. You weren’t happy. You knew that you had fallen out of love with him, but you just couldn’t bring yourself up to be the one to end the relationship. 

And now, meeting your personal trainer three times a week has been something you looked forward to. She always pushed you past your limits, very well aware of your potential, and she always made sure to hold you accountable – with your workouts, with your diet, but most importantly, with your self-talk. She had truly become someone you can rely on and as the months passed, she became a close friend. 

You read the text she sends you: Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but someone is gonna join us tomorrow. I’ve been training him for years and we’ve had trouble finding a good day and time for him to train with me. It’s possible that this will become more permanent since he’s so busy. I hope that’s okay!  

After all that she’s helped you through, you knew you couldn’t complain. Besides, you wouldn’t mind her attention being elsewhere. You knew she would still be there to help you. So, you send a reply: That’s fine with me! It’ll give me a bit of a break if your attention is on him, instead of me. 

She replies quickly: You’re not gonna be slacking off, if that’s what you’re getting at. 

You laugh to yourself and then send her a wink emoji followed by another message: Of course not! I’ll see you tomorrow. 

—

The following morning, you pull up to the gym and climb out of your car. There are two other cars in the parking lot – you know one belongs to your trainer, but the other, you aren’t sure whose it is. Climbing out, you grab your duffle bag and water bottle before making your way inside. You’ve always dressed in an oversized hoodie and spandex shorts when going to the gym and today is no different. You’re wearing a faded black oversized hoodie with black spandex shorts and gym shoes with white socks. Your hair is in a single dutch braid, but is covered when you put the hood over your head and your headphones draped around your neck. 

Once inside the gym, you notice your trainer setting up but you look around and don’t notice anyone else there. Huh, you think to yourself. Maybe it’ll just be me after all. 

You walk over to her and greet her with a hug, setting your duffle bag and water bottle in the corner. “I thought you said there’d be someone else today and it looks like there’s another car outside, but I just see you.”

“Oh, he’s in the bathroom.” she chuckles and then points in the direction of the mats to signal for you to start stretching. “Go ahead and stretch. We’re gonna be doing a full body workout and we’ll start with a cardio warmup.” 

“Yes, coach,” you salute, causing you both to let out a laugh. 

You begin stretching, putting on your headphones over the hood and letting the music play in your ears. Surprisingly enough, you’re playing the soundtrack from The Greatest Showman and it pumps you up, gets you ready for what you expect to be a grueling workout. You’re on all fours, doing the cat-and-cow stretch for several seconds before you see a pair of feet in your peripheral. 

You turn your head completely and look up at the man who decides to begin stretching next to you, flashing you a smile that immediately makes your stomach do flips. He’s wearing a black tank top with black shorts and he’s saying something, but you can’t hear him. You can’t even speak, but then he points to your headphones and you blush instantly. Of course you couldn’t hear him, you’re blaring From Now On and you’re sure that he can hear it from his end with how loud your music is. You remove your headphones, letting it rest around your neck and pausing the song. 

“You know, listening to music that loud can hurt your eardrums, I hear.” He speaks and you melt instantly, his Australian accent thick. 

“Gets me ready for a workout.” 

“What does? The song or how loud you’re listening to it?” He winks. 

“So, you heard what song was playing.” 

“I did. What can I say?” He smiles. “It’s a good song.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “You’re literally Hugh Jackman and I’m trying not to freak out over here, but I don’t think I’m doing a great job.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and then reaches out a hand for you to take. You realize that you’re still on all fours, staring at the man who you’ve had a crush on since he became the Wolverine. Quickly, you move to sit properly, not really wanting to introduce yourself in a position that can be taken as very inappropriate.

“Well, I’m Hugh,” he winks, his Australian accent coming through thickly. 

You reach for his hand and gently shake it, looking down at it. His hand is so much larger compared to yours. You introduce yourself and tell him your name before dropping his hand, biting your lower lip as you look around to see your trainer look through her notebook. 

“Nice to meet you,” you finally say. “I’m sorry if I’m crashing your session.”

“I think I should be the one that’s sorry,” he says. “This is only the day and time that works for me right now and she’s the best of the best,” Hugh continues, pointing in the direction of our personal trainer. “She’s helping me get back into shape for the Wolverine.” 

“Oh, so you are coming back?” 

Hugh chuckles and lowers his eyes to the mat before he looks back at you. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but yeah. I’m comin’ back.” 

“Well good,” you reply, standing up after you’ve finished stretching. You look down at him and let your eyes rake in his body. It’s one thing to see him in pictures, but it’s another to see him in person, this close. “I always did like the Wolverine. One of my favorites, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, his eyes lowering to your exposed legs and back up to your eyes. 

You can feel the tension thicken in the air between you as you both stare at each other. Your eyes can’t help but rake over his arms, the veins along his biceps, his chest flexing with each movement. You clear your throat and nod, biting your lower lip. “Definitely. Guess I got a thing for older men.” You don’t give him a chance to respond before you walk away and leave him to continue his stretching, but you do feel his eyes on you as you walk away. 

You approach your trainer and look at her with wide eyes. “Um, you should have told me you’re Hugh Jackman’s trainer!” 

She laughs and looks over your shoulder at him who’s still staring at you. “If I did, would you have come?”

“No, probably not. I’d be too scared. I won’t be able to keep up with him. I mean, have you seen him? He’s jacked!” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You can keep up with him,” she reassures. “Trust me.” 

“Well, what if I can’t? I’m gonna make a complete fool out of myself and–”

“Stop.” She interrupts and points at you. “You’re spiraling and you don’t need to. You’re not here to compete with him. You’re both here to work out and who knows, maybe having him here will push you extra hard.”

“You already push me extra hard,” you say. “I leave completely drenched after every workout I have with you.”

“You don’t have to impress anyone. He’s here to workout. You’re here to workout. Remember why you started,” she replies. “And remember how far you’ve come.”

“You’re right,” you nod. “You’re right. He’s just so…” you sigh dreamily and then look over your shoulder to see him stand up and begin making his way over to you both. “Hot.” 

She laughs, “Well, I hear he’s single.”

“Oh my god, he would never go for me! I mean, he’s completely famous and I’m just… Me.”

“There’s that negative self-talk again,” she tsks. “I’m gonna have to put you through a really tough ass workout to make you think of yourself differently.”

“Okay, okay,” you tease. “I’m amazing. I’m perfect. I’m–”

“Beautiful,” Hugh interrupts and winks in your direction. “Sorry, should I have not chimed in there?”

Your cheeks begin to heat up and the pit of your stomach feels like butterflies are swarming in there. He’s staring at you with a grin on his face and it makes you look away shyly. 

“Okay, lovebirds. Can we get this workout started?” Your trainer interrupts, laughing quietly. 

“Um, yeah. Let’s, um, yeah, let’s workout.” You walk over to the stairmaster and climb on it before you see Hugh do the same next to you. You look over your shoulder to see your trainer walk towards the speakers to play the music to get you both ready, but she knows that you like to listen to your own music when warming up.

This gives Hugh enough time to gently lean over and tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. You look up at him with big, hopeful eyes and he’s staring back directly into yours. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line there,” he says genuinely. “I just–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, smiling up at him. “If we’re giving each other compliments, then I think you’re hot.” 

Hugh looks down and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Even for an old man?” 

“Oh, you’d be hot if you were my age too. But I like that you’re older. Gives you bit of an edge.” 

“An edge, huh?”

“Well, I have always had a crush on you, so…” 

Hugh smirks and he’s about to say something before your trainer speaks up to begin your warmup for fifteen minutes. You then nod in his direction before putting the headphones back on and starting the machine. You’ve always put your all into each workout and you have to tell yourself that you shouldn’t act any differently because the Hugh Jackman is working out with you. You had been so nervous and anxious to be working out alongside Hugh that you didn’t realize just how far you had come, just like your trainer mentioned earlier. For years, you had put someone else before you, put their needs before your own, and for once since then, you feel like you have control over your life again. 

And for once, you knew what you wanted and you were going to go after it. 

—

Fifteen minutes later, you and Hugh both stop the machine and climb off of it. You remove your headphones and take off your hood, already drenched in sweat. You look in Hugh’s direction and notice the sweat slicking off his frame as well, his tank top stained with sweat. You clear your throat and walk over to your duffle bag, setting your headphones inside and grabbing your small towel to wipe the sweat from your brows and temples. You know you’re going to end up removing your hoodie soon, but you feel a bit self-conscious and wish you should have worn a t-shirt because once you remove your hoodie, you’ll be dressed in just a sports bra and spandex. 

You then realize that Hugh’s bag is right next to yours and see him grab his own bottle of water and towel to cool himself down before the start of your workout. 

“Aren’t you hot in that hoodie?” Hugh asks. 

“I like to get a good sweat in,” you blurt out. You clear your throat, not believing that you just said that. “I mean, I just–”

Hugh smiles. “No, no. I understand. It’s like your own personal sauna.” 

“Sure, kinda.” You gnaw at your lower lip before you stand upright, holding onto your bottle of water. “I mean, eventually, this is gonna come off because she makes me work,” you laugh, referring to your personal trainer. “But I like to keep my body and muscles warm.” 

“Ah, so I will get to see what you got hiding underneath there,” he grins. “I mean, your legs look great. I’m eager to see what else you got.” 

Your cheeks heat up once more. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too excited. I don’t have arms like yours.” 

Hugh chuckles and looks down at his own arms, flexing them in front of you and you feel the heat rush immediately between your legs. God, he’s just so muscular and chiseled and– 

“I’d be impressed if you did,” Hugh winks. “Now come on. If we keep her waiting, she’s just gonna make us pay for it,” he continues, pointing to your trainer before he reaches down to take your hand. 

“Ah yeah, that’s a good point. Thanks,” you say, taking his hand as he hoists you up to your feet. You stumble a bit and fall into him, your hands immediately reaching out to brace yourself on his chest. You clear your throat, feeling the hardened muscles underneath your fingertips. His hands fly to your waist to keep you steady and you’re extremely aware of how close you two are. 

“Oh, be careful,” he whispers quietly, looking down at you. “Would hate for you to get injured.” 

“Good thing I’ve got a big, strong man to brace my fall.” 

Hugh chuckles and then releases his hold on you, making you do the same as you both take a step back to create some distance between the both of you. “You’re good for my ego. I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna have to get your number later so that I can be around you all the time.” 

“Are you asking me for my number? The Hugh Jackman?” 

Hugh laughs. “Would that be alright?” 

“I guess we’ll see after today’s training session.” You smile in his direction, feeling more and more confident as the minutes pass. You walk away from him and make your way to your trainer who has two sets of dumbbells next to each other. One set is obviously heavier than the other and you know it’s for Hugh. 

“We’re gonna start off with some bicep curls, supersetting it with bent over rows.” Your trainer begins, continuing to list off the rest of what the workout will consist of. You know that you’ve gotten stronger than when you first started and you try not to focus so much on the man next to you and focus solely on improving than the last time you had trained. 

“After this superset, we’re gonna then move onto a barbell bench press and we’ll also superset it with push-ups.” 

Your trainer continues to speak and you look in the mirror to find that Hugh’s staring at you too. You smile to yourself and then turn your attention to your trainer. She mentions that you will also both be doing squats with a superset of pull-ups. Once she finishes, you watch her make her way to the speaker to turn it up louder. 

Throughout the first exercise, you remain focused on your form, inhaling and exhaling when needed. You feel the burn in your biceps when curling the dumbbells and the burn in your back muscles when doing the bent over rows. You’re dripping in sweat and by the time the first superset is finished, you finally lift the ends of your hoodie over your head. You walk over to your things to drop the hoodie into your duffle bag, grabbing your towel to once again wipe away the sweat. 

Now dressed only in black spandex shorts and a black sports bra, you look up to see Hugh’s eyes taking in your newly exposed frame. He tries to be subtle with where he’s looking, but when your eyes meet his, a shy smile lines his lips. He mouths sorry and then turns away to walk over to the bench where your trainer is setting up. 

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Your trainer asks. 

You speak up instantly. “I’ll go first.”

Your trainer smiles. She always loved your eagerness. “Perfect. We’ll warm up with the bar, both of you.” She points to the bench and you nod, brushing past Hugh to lie back on the bench. You arch your back on the bench and reach up to grip onto the barbell above you. 

“This should be easy for you,” your trainer says. “Aim for 15, but slow and controlled.” 

You nod and unrack the bar before dropping it low to your chest before pressing it back up above you. You focus on your breathing and form as you continue the movements for 15 reps. Once you’re done, you re-rack the barbell and then sit up, looking up at Hugh who’s staring down at you with an impressed look on his face. 

“Same thing for you, Hugh.”

Hugh makes the barbell look like it weighs close to nothing, yet he still controls his movements. You can’t help but watch his muscles flex as he presses the bar for the required amount of reps. It does something to you, seeing him like this, focused and completely in his element. You bite your lower lip and then see him stand up from the bench. He walks away for a moment to retrieve his towel and bottle of water, which gives you enough time to add weight to each side of the barbell. 

This continues for four sets until the last set, your trainer adds 15 pounds to each side, totaling 75 pounds for you to press. You look over at her with wide eyes. “You think I’m able to do 75 pounds?” you ask genuinely. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be easy for you.” 

“But what if–”

She interrupts. “Self-talk,” she says simply. “You can do it. Aim for 3 reps. That’s all.”

Then, Hugh gently nudges you with his shoulder. “You can do it,” he comments, adding your name at the end of his sentence. “And if you want, I can spot you.”

The trainer nods, “That’d be great, Hugh.” Hugh then moves to stand at the top of your head and watches you lie back on the bench. You look up, biting your lower lip at how close his lower half is to you and while you should be focused on bench pressing your personal best, you can’t help but your mind drifting to him. 

“You ready, love?” Hugh asks, the term of endearment slipping past his lips. 

You nod and then place your hands on the bar to unrack before you let it drop slowly to tap your chest before you push it above you with difficulty. It’s heavier than you’ve ever bench pressed before, but having Hugh hover nearby gives you the confidence and strength to do this. 

“Great job, that’s one.” Your trainer says and then you continue for the next two reps without any issue. “Go for five,” she adds.

At the last rep, you struggle, but Hugh’s there to help you push the bar above your chest and then re-rack it. You sit up and grin, sweat dripping from your temples as you stand up. 

“I did it. Oh my god, I did it.” You say with a grin, practically jumping up and down with pride and you quickly move over to hug Hugh, not realizing what you’re doing. Once you do though, you pull back immediately and the heat in your cheeks begin to rise. “Sorry. I just got excited and–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh smiles, his hand moving to rest on your lower back. “You did great. It’s somethin’ to be proud of.”

“Alright, Hugh. You’re up.” Your trainer says with a smile and his hand slowly drops from your back to then add more weight to the bar. 

You move to the mats to do push-ups, but you can’t help but be distracted by Hugh. There is at least one 45 pound plate on each side of the bar and he’s pressing it so easily. His muscles are flexing and you can hear him grunting and it makes you squeeze your legs, clenching around nothing. It’s when he stands up from the bench that he makes eye contact with you and flashes you a wink. 

Oh god, you think to yourself. He definitely knows what you were just doing. 

Throughout the rest of the workout, you and Hugh train without issue. You find that you train really well together, pushing each other to the limit, but also very considerate once you’ve each hit that limit. When it came time to squats though, you find that Hugh’s eyes are glued onto you with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes take in your frame, lingering on your legs and definitely your backside. You pride yourself in the strength you have with squats, being able to add a 45 and a 25 lb plate to each side, totaling 185. 

“Oh, you can do way more than 185,” Hugh says with a chuckle. “That’s way too easy for you.”

“That’s exactly what I said last week,” your trainer laughs. “I think you can at least add another ten pounds each side.”

“That’d be 205 total,” you say hesitantly. “I don’t know…”

“Come on. Let’s add ten each side.” Hugh says, grabbing two ten pound plates and handing one to your trainer. He slides one on one side of the bar while your trainer does the other side. He motions for you to get in position and then steps behind you. “I got you. I’ll spot you again.” 

“But–”

“Self-talk,” your trainer calls out. 

“Fine.” You get underneath the barbell and place it between your shoulder blades as your hands come up to grip the bar. You take a deep breath, looking in front of you in the mirror and seeing Hugh nod reassuringly. “If I’m not able to squat this–”

“You got this,” Hugh interrupts. “It’s all in the mind, love. You gotta believe you can do it.” 

Love. The term of endearment actually motivates you and you take a deep breath before unracking the bar and taking three steps backwards. The bar rests heavily between your shoulders as you squeeze your shoulder blades tight and then you take a deep breath and slowly lower yourself to a squat. Hugh squats with you, arms stretched outwards underneath your own and then stands up once you do. He sees you struggle a bit, but then he watches as you push through your heels until you stand back upright. 

“See, easy,” he whispers into your ear. 

“You’re distracting me,” you call over your shoulder. 

Hugh chuckles and then lets you continue your set of reps. He’s in awe of you. There’s not a lot of people that can keep up with him or his trainer, but he finds your dedication and eagerness to push yourself incredibly attractive. He finds you incredibly attractive. He isn’t paying attention until you re-reack the bar and accidentally bump into him, your backside fully pressed against his front. 

Your trainer wasn’t in the room at the moment, having had to leave to go to the bathroom, so luckily, she wasn’t here to witness the tension that begins to thicken in the air again. Hugh’s hand darts out to rest on your hip, realizing that you were not stepping away from him. 

“You’re impressive,” Hugh whispers, hand tightening on your hip. He feels you push back against him and he growls lowly into your ear. “You keep that up, love and–”

“Hugh,” you whisper, slowly turning around to look up at him. Your hands move to his chest, feeling him flex underneath your fingertips. His other hand comes up to rest on your other hip, pulling you flush against him as the front of your bodies press against one another. “We’re all sweaty,” you point out. 

“Doesn’t bother me.” 

“I think I like having you as my training partner,” you say quietly. 

“Training partner, huh? I like the sound of that.” 

“So, about my number…” you begin, biting your lower lip. 

“Yeah?” 

You really want it?” 

Hugh nods. “Yeah, I really want it.” 

You can’t help but notice the true meaning behind both of your words and you’re about to lean in when you hear the sound of a door opening. Quickly, you pull back from Hugh and look up at him. He’s smiling in your direction and then moves away to remove the weight off the bar. 

“Let’s finish this session and then we can talk.” 

—

After two hours, you and Hugh finally finish the training session with your trainer. You’re lying on your back on the mats, trying to cool down and catch your breath before your trainer gently nudges your foot. You sit up and then stand on your feet. 

“Are you okay with Hugh joining us more regularly? You two are good partners.” she says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. That was a really good workout,” you point out. 

“Good workout because he was here or because–”

“Because of you!” you interrupt with a chuckle. “And it helps that he’s here too.” 

She laughs. “You did really well today. I know you got in your head a few times there, but you showed up for yourself. How do you feel?”

You shrug. “I’m a work in progress, but today was a good day. I’d consider it a win.” 

“Good,” she replies. “I’m proud of you. It’s not easy, but you’re putting yourself first and that’s a huge improvement from when we first met.” 

“I’m trying,” you say. “Taking it day by day, but I’m feeling good about myself. I feel like I finally have control again.” 

“Well, you deserve all the good things in this world. You just gotta believe that too. I’ll see you next week.” Your trainer walks away to start cleaning up and she waves at Hugh who’s walking towards you now. 

He leans down to grab his bag and drapes it over his shoulder as he looks down at you. “So, I think we’re training partners now.”

“I heard,” you smile. “Will that be okay? I know you have extreme training to do to become Wolverine again, but–”

“Of course it will be okay. Seeing you push yourself out of your comfort zone helps push me out of mine. This will be a good thing. Trust me.”

“Oh, I’ve done a lot of trusting you today,” you tease, grabbing your bag and slinging it across your body. You both wave at your personal trainer before leaving the gym and walking outside to your cars. 

“And I haven’t failed yet, have I?” he asks, walking alongside you to your car. 

“No. No, you haven’t.” 

“Good,” Hugh smiles. “I don’t plan to.” He watches you place your duffle bag into your trunk and then before he could speak, you reach your hand out, palm facing upwards. “What?” 

“Phone please, sir.” 

Hugh’s eyes narrow down at you. Sir. He wants to push you against your car and just devour you, but he has to refrain himself. He reaches for his phone and then hands it to you, watching as you type away. Once you return it back to him, he looks down at his phone and lets out a soft chuckle. He sees your number, but then he notices the name that you entered. 

Training partner 💪

“Oh, very clever,” he smiles. 

“Maybe if I get as muscular as you, we’ll upgrade that to swole-mate.” 

Hugh laughs, his nose wrinkling as the sound of his laughter comes deep from within. It makes you smile that you’re able to make him laugh. You had put him on a pedestal for being a famous actor, but after spending just a few hours with him today, he’s so much more normal than you thought. 

“Swole-mate, huh?” Hugh says after his laughter slowly dies down. “Is that a play on word for soulmate?” 

“Maybe,” you chuckle. “It’s dorky, I know. I was just kidding.” 

“No, I like it. You don’t have to be muscular to be my swole-mate. So, I’m just gonna go ahead and change that.” He then types away on his phone and then turns it in your direction. 

You smile to yourself and see the new name that’s now attached to your number.

Swole-mate 💪

“Perfect,” you say with a smile. 

“I think so.” Hugh responds, staring deeply into your eyes. “So, I guess I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes, you will. Thank you for spotting me today… And pushing me.”

“Happy to do it.” Hugh winks. “Get home safe.”

“You too, Hugh.” 

—

Later that night, you stare at your phone and realize that while you had given your number to Hugh, he hadn’t given you his. You try to reflect on today’s events, but your mind keeps drifting to Hugh. There was certainly something there between the both of you, something unspoken. You convince yourself that the attraction is mutual – after all, you couldn’t help but think back to that moment at the squat rack. You felt every inch of him when you pressed back into him and his hands on your hips– 

You sigh, trying to shake the thoughts out of your mind. There was no way that someone like Hugh Jackman would be interested in someone like you. He’s famous and he could have any woman he wanted and you… Well, you were just normal. 

Your mind continues to drift, but you feel your phone vibrate. It takes you out of your thoughts and you look down to see an unsaved number. Opening the message, a smile begins to line your lips and your heart begins to flutter with emotions you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

UNKNOWN: Hello, swole-mate. 

You don’t even need to ask who it is because before you can even respond, another message pops up. 

UNKNOWN: It’s Hugh, by the way. 

You lie back on your bed, phone in your hand as you stare up at it with a goofy grin on your face. It feels like you’re a teenager all over again talking to your crush. You then add his number to your contacts list and add the same name that he has on his.

YOU: Hello, Hugh. 

Then, after a few seconds, your phone begins to ring. You answer it without hesitation and hear his voice on the other end of the line. It sounds so much deeper and his accent is thicker as he begins to talk.

“I had to make sure you gave me your actual number,” Hugh chuckles. 

“Why would I give you a fake number? When Hugh Jackman asks for your number, you gotta give the right one.”

He laughs. “You know, I’m a normal person too.”

You smile to yourself. “You’re the Wolverine, Hugh. I think saying you’re normal isn’t doing you justice.” 

“What would you call me then?” He asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Hot, maybe?” Hugh teases. 

“Okay, okay. That got to your head, didn’t it?” 

You can hear Hugh laugh all day if you could. It’s so infectious and it makes you giggle too. “Maybe. Just surprised that someone like you thinks an old man like me is hot.”

“Here we go with the old man thing again,” you giggle. “Have you seen yourself, Hugh? You don’t strike me as old.”

“Oh, well my bones and joints will disagree with you, love.” 

Love. There it is again and your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. 

“You know, you are very distracting, Hugh.” 

“Yeah? Am I distracting you right now?” 

“Maybe…”

Hugh chuckles and then responds, “You’re very distracting too.” 

“And we’re training partners,” you say with a quiet laugh. 

“Actually, we’re swole-mates.” 

You can’t help but laugh as you turn onto your tummy and bury your face into your pillow. Your cheeks are heating up as you hear Hugh’s voice on the other end.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Can’t believe I got you to say swole-mates.” 

Hugh chuckles. “Listen, um…” You can hear him breathing on the other end and it seems like he’s hesitating. Nervous. Anxious, maybe. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to come by my place and have lunch after our workout next week?” He finally asks. 

You bite your lower lip and without hesitation, you reply. “That’d be great. Are you gonna cook for me, Hugh?” 

Hugh lets out a breath of relief and then chuckles. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“Oh, then I’d love to have lunch with you.” 

“I’ll pick you up and we can ride together to the gym?” He asks. 

“That sounds great, Hugh.” You can’t help but imagine all of the different things that could happen and you can just feel Hugh’s hands on your hips, his length pressed against you as it was earlier. You need it. You need him. You weren’t the type of person to indulge in casual relationships, but after your last and most recent failed relationship, it’s time you prioritize yourself (and that includes your needs and desires). 

“Alright then, love. We should call it a night.” 

“Okay, Hugh. I’ll text you my address.”

“Perfect. Good night,” he says softly. 

“Good night, Hugh.”

You hang up the phone and then look up at the ceiling once you roll onto your back. You have one week until you see him next and you’re sure that something will happen and it excites you. Hugh excites you. 

Before you go to bed that night, you send a text to Hugh with your address. Within a few seconds, he replies.

HUGH: Great. Can’t wait to see you next week. Good night, love. 

[lovebugism]

Hi um, could you please maybe write something with Stevie and his agoraphobic girlfriend, who is worried she clings to him/depends on him too much for her own comfort and panics and tries to distance herself from him? (Also I adore your writing, you write for Steve so well, it hits me in the heart constantly)

thank u angel! i lovelovelove this request! — you worry steve thinks you're a burden, but really he just loves you (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of social anxiety, 1k)

Steve can tell when you’re out of the shower. The air starts to smell vaguely of fresh flowers and warm vanilla as wisps of steam travel down the hall. He sorts groceries in the kitchen and smiles to himself when he hears your bare feet pad closer, giddy with the thought of surprising you.

You freeze in the doorway at the sight of him, looking more scared than shocked. Wet hair drips onto the neck of your oversized sweatshirt — definitely his. “What are you…?” you trail off, wide eyes darting around the kitchen, now filled with brown paper bags and new groceries.

Steve grins, pink and lopsided, as he slides fresh milk into the door of the fridge. “Hey, babe,” he greets in a honeyed voice.

“Hi…” you waver, brows still pinched with a distant concern.

“Good shower?” he asks, just before a chuckle spills from his mouth. “You were in there for, like, thirty minutes.”

You force a laugh of your own. “Yeah, it was… It was… fine— What are you doing?”

Steve meets your screwed-up features with a brighter beam. He holds a loaf of bread in one hand and chips in the other. “I went grocery shopping,” he answers.

“Okay,” you nod, then shrink inside yourself again. “…Why?”

He shrugs and sets the items on the counter, rambling as he digs into another crumpling paper bag. “‘Cause I knew you’ve been meaning to do it and everything, so… I thought I’d make it a little easier on you.”

Your heart threatens to swell at the simple act of kindness. Your brain doesn’t let it, though. The mean thing can’t comprehend that he’s doing this because he loves you. Instead, it tells you he’s doing this because he thinks you can’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur sheepishly, wringing your clammy hands into a knot. “But, you know, I could’ve done it…”

Steve scoffs. “Of course, you could’ve! I just wanted to do something nice for you.” He puts boxes of something into the upper cabinets you usually have trouble reaching. With his back to you, he rambles. “And don’t worry about paying me back, alright? Consider this me making up for takeout the other night. I really did forget my wallet at home, babe, I swear.”

The memory makes him laugh now that he’s over being horrified about it. He thought about it for days, though — the way he patted at his jeans in search of something that wasn’t there, and how the excuse sounded like a lie as it fell from his lips. 

You didn’t think twice about it after it happened. You were more than happy to pay for your dinner that night, especially considering Steve never lets you pay for anything.

As his quiet chuckling fades, he realizes you hadn’t laughed about it at all. Not even the pity laugh you give when you don’t think something’s all that funny, but you don’t want to be rude. 

With a worried look pinching his features, Steve looks at you over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes go wide. “Hm?”

“What’s that look for, huh?”

“What look?” 

“That one,” he says with a quiet chuckle, pointing to the concerned frown scrunching your brows and swimming in your eyes. “You look upset about something.”

“No!” you blurt before you mean to. The last thing you want him to think is that you’re unhappy with him. So quieter and less convincingly, you waver, “No. I’m not… I’m not upset.”

Steve crosses his toned arms over his chest, looking less than swayed. “Did I… Did I do something? Should I not have bought the groceries— ‘Cause they were having a bunch of sales, you know— it wasn’t that expensive, I promise—”

“It’s not that,” you assure him firmly, before going suddenly shy all over again. “I just… I really could’ve done it, Steve.”

He nods, furrow-browed. “I know.”

You swallow hard. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to do all this stuff for me just because it’s… ‘cause it’s harder for me.”

Steve’s structured face goes lax with realization. He nods slowly to himself, chest wrenching because he understands it all now — why you look so pouty about the whole thing. Because you think you’re a burden.

His sneakers pad softly against the tile floor until they’re planted just ahead of your bare feet. Steve smiles down at you and smooths his palms over your sides. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything,” he promises with a faint laugh, squeezing gently at your hips. “I like doing these things for you… ‘Cause I like you and everything, I guess.”

You scrunch your nose to keep from smiling too big. “Well, that’s gross…” you mumble.

“Disgusting, huh?” Steve concurs with a lopsided grin before smacking a kiss to your mouth.

Your lips tingle for more of him when he pulls away. Your yearning hands twist at the hem of his shirt before he can step away from you completely. “At least let me help put them away,” you plead with sparkling eyes.

Steve’s face twists. “What do I look like to you?” he scoffs. “I’m not some kinda schmuck that makes his girl put up groceries! Go finish getting ready. Or lay down or something— I’m good in here.”

“I can help!” you protest, doing everything but stomping your foot.

“I know you can. Excuse me for wanting to pamper you.”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disdain but don’t press the issue any further.

“You can make it up to me later?” Steve offers with a plush pink grin. His softly calloused palms smooth over your shoulders, wide thumbs rubbing along your collarbones. “Movie date? At the Hawk? Next weekend?”

Your chest pinches with a momentary panic, but you know he’s doing everything right. 

The Hawk isn’t crazy crowded these days, and cinemas don’t usually call for a ton of human interaction. He’s giving you an entire week to prepare yourself for it, too. Steve’s learned all your little idiosyncrasies — for better or for worse.

“Try?” Steve presses at your silence.

You exhale a sharp breath through your nose to dispel the fleeting worry in your chest. You nod. “I’ll try.”

[ak319]

Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men with a small-chested reader

Pairings: Toji x reader; Gojo x reader; Choso x reader; Nanami x reader; Sukuna x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 4,5k

Warnings: this is LONG so get seated; reader gets confronted with hate regarding small boobs so if that's not for you don't read, also this implies JJK men are into small boobs so if that triggers you don't read, smut mentioned in Toji's & Nanami's part, abusive ex relationship in Nanami's part, Gojo is a dick in Geto's part and in general I feel like this one isn't that great so sorry for all my Geto lovers out there I'm tired

Click here for the big-chested version

Toji Fushiguro

You can’t help but let yourself fall into his rough touch, enjoy the sensation of his body pressed against yours. How you ended up here? You couldn’t care less. Is it pretty bad to be minutes away from getting laid by your enemy? Maybe, but you don’t give a damn.

Until his hand yanks towards your breasts.

“N-No. Stop”, you whimper, pushing against his broad shoulders to get him off you.

“C’mon, what’s wrong babe? Don’t ya enjoy yourself?”, he purrs against your ear.

Oh god, just the sound of his deep voice lets your mind wander to places where it hasn’t been for ages, makes you arche your body towards him like a needy teenager.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

But just when he’s about to stretch his hand towards your chest again, you lift yourself off the couch so suddenly that you almost fall over. No, you just can’t do this.

Automatically, you cross your arms in front of your chest, eyes gazing down at the nothingness you hold. Since you can remember, you’ve got picked on for having small boobs. Oh, how desperately you waited throughout whole puberty for them to finally grow, how much you secretly begged for those delicious female curves you’ve seen all over media and anime. But every time you look into the mirror, you are greeted by basically nothing. If a man like Toji would see you like this. God, if he only touches your breast and realizes that your décolleté comes from nothing but a push up bra…

It’s impossible for a man like him to find a woman like you attractive. Why were you even stupid enough to consider a one-night stand with him, when looks are the only thing that really counts? If he sees you’ve been lying into his face, that you don’t look like those girls on magazines…

Would he make fun of you? The disappointed look on his face as soon as he unclips your bra would be too much to handle alone.

“I can’t do this. Sorry”, you mumble, fingers frantically straighten your clothes.

Just forget about what happened today. Get home, take off your bra and stare at the ceiling. You don’t need a man to satisfy your needs anyway…right?

He grabs you by your waist so suddenly that you aren’t even able to react when his other hand unclips your bra and pulls up your shirt.

You fail to breathe, glossy eyes staring into his unbothered face in sheer disbelief. Did that man just expose your whole chest within the blink of a second?

“Why are you actin’ all shy, huh? Those are some nice tits”, he speaks out with a sly grin.

“I…”

You are lost at words, lost at thoughts, lost at sight. This man is walking sex himself. Damn, he could probably pull any girl on this planet. But no, he decided to get into your apartment and he just said that…Your breasts look good?

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting all day for that”, he signs.

His usual so rough fingers cup your breasts gently, swallow them whole with ease. Toji’s eyes are completely fixated on the sensation between his fingertips, how your warm flesh feels against his palms.

“I thought you…you aren’t into…small boobs”, you moan, closing your embarrassed eyes to shield yourself from his intense stare.

“I’m a man of culture”, he comments.

Oh, you can tell he’s grinning like he always does. Slowly but surely everything seems to fade away. All the dumb comments about your body, all the times you looked into the mirror and blankly stared at your flat chest. No, everything that counts now is that the force of a man standing in front of you clearly enjoys your sight, that your boobs alone are enough bring a grown man onto his knees, to make him whimper against your heated skin and the bulge in his pants grow with every second.

“Fuck, I need ya”, he hisses.

Toji pully your top over your head before you’re even able to think straight. There he stands, his hand unzipping his pants in slow motion while you gaze up at him panting like a dog.

“I’ll show you how much I’m into you, babe…”

Gojo Satoru

You look yourself up and down in the mirror, mind raising. It’s your third date with none other than the Satoru Gojo. The men who turns women’s heads on a regular basis, the men who invited you into the most exquisite restaurant of the city, the man who even sent you a dress for the occasion. A jaw-dropping gorgeous black dress with a delicate waterfall neckline, just the right fit for a man like him.

But not with your flat chest. The fabric seems to hang on your body like a potato sack, filled by nothing but thin air. And because of the cursed deep back, you aren’t even able to wear a push up bra underneath. Fuck, what are you supposed to do? The more you stare at yourself in the mirror, the worse it seems to fit. Satoru chose this dress only for you. There’s absolutely no way in hell you’ll wear something else, that you disappoint him like that. But do you have another option?

You let yourself fall onto your bed, eyes darting to your phone. Shit, you have only 10 more minutes left before he gets her. How are you supposed to fix this? Will Satoru be disappointed? You never wore tight or unflattering clothes around him before, always hid your smaller chest well behind casual sweatshirts or push up bras. But this…You aren’t able to hide anything in this.

Will be there in 5. Can’t wait to see you in that dress &lt;3

Oh god, you feel like throwing up when reading his message. Everything went so well between the both of you, so unproblematic and genuinely fine. But are you even good enough for Satoru Gojo when he’s surrounded by so many beautiful women? Your hands wander up your stomach, come to a stand on your chest. No, you definitely can’t keep up with Mei Mei and the others. Will he lose interest in you after tonight? Will his facial expression drop the second he lays eyes on you in that dress?

Your palms get sweaty, mind overwhelmed by all those venomous thoughts.

“Fuck, don’t cry”, you hiss to yourself, angrily blinking into the mirror.

The doorbell rings.

Your heart drops.

Shit.

Didn’t he say 10 minutes?

Your feet carry you to your front door automatically, the tall frame of none other than Satoru clearly visible outside. No, why is he here? You didn’t have enough time to think about a solution, didn’t even try on that sticky bra you’ve bought a few months ago-

He rings again. There is no way of out this now. Like in slow motion, your shaky hand presses down the door handle, exposes yourself further and further to Satoru.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, (y/n)”, Satoru comments jokingly.

Hot tears slowly but surely start to take your sight while you stand there like an idiot, covering your chest with your arms. This will be the moment Satoru realizes you aren’t playing in his league, that he can do so much better. What was he thinking anyway, starting to date a girl like you?

“You look absolutely hot in that dress. Oh my god…”, he breathes out.

“Don’t lie to me”, you mumble.

No, you can’t take it. With a swift motion you turn yourself away from his gaze, away from his presence.

“What? I would never lie to you! Hey, are you cryin’? (y/n), look at me.”

Gently, he cups your face with both of his hands, forces you to get lost in the blue ocean of his eyes.

“I’m not doing justice to the dress you’ve gifted me”, you breathe out.

Satoru has to blink a few times, mind trying to process what the hell you are talking about. The minute you opened the door earlier, he was lost. You looked exactly how he imagined, so well-fitted into that black dress, your curves so delicious that it takes all his strength to keep his composure.

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen and I’m serious about that. Why would you think something so ridiculous? Look at your-“

“I’m flat”, you finally snap.

“Flat?”, he repeats in disbelief.

“Flat like a pancake. Flat like a board. I…I have nothing!”, you blurt out.

Satoru can’t believe his ears, has to stare at you in sheer disbelief for a moment. Is this why you’re crying, why you’re crossing your arms in front of your chest like that? Because you think that…your breasts are too small?

“C’mon, you can’t be serious about that.”

He desperately waits for a reaction, for a cute little giggle coming out of your mouth and this being nothing but a prank. But instead, you just stand there in silence and hide yourself even more.

“Okay, let me get that straight: You.Look.Gorgeous. I can’t stop fucking looking at you, that dress fits you so well and when I saw that neckline for the first time…I’m only saying this before you force me to, okay? I’m thirsting over you like a teenager, (y/n)! And I adore every inch of your body, I adore the way your tits look.”

“Stop”, you mumble, his words making shivers run down your spine.

“I won’t stop until you say it.”

“Say what?”, you question, confusion written on your face.

“Repeat after me: I have nice tits.”

Is he serious? You drop your arms to the side, completely bamboozled by the Satoru Gojo in front of you.

“Let’s do it, (y/n)!”

“I have…nice tits”, you breathe out.

“I can’t hear you”, he shouts.

Gently, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you a little. What the hell is going on right now? His smile seems contagious, makes the corners of your mouth turn upwards just the slightest bit.

“I have small tits”, you giggle out.

“NO!”, he screams.

“I have nice tits!”

“I have nice tits”, you shout back.

“Yes, now…Can I touch them?”

“Let’s get going, okay?”, you mutter, head red like a tomato.

Choso Kamo

“What are you doing, (y/n)?”

A high shriek escapes your lips when you look at Choso standing in the door. Fuck, what the hell is this guy doing here while you tried on that bikini you’ve bought earlier?

“Oh, that looks good”, he comments and nods towards your chest.

God, you feel like fainting. Out of all people, why does it have to be Choso standing there? And why do you feel so damn insecure all of the sudden? It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High that you have a huge crush on Yuji’s bigger brother, that you can’t take your eyes off him. And while you feel pretty comfortable in your own skin, there is this one thing that makes you trip over and over again…

Your breasts.

You didn’t even notice until your female friends began to comment on the size of your boobs when you changed for sport lessons.

“You look like a child, (y/n)!”

“Omg, are you sure that’s normal?”

“You’re a board with nipples…”

“I’m so sorry for you, (y/n)! After all, all boys are into big tits these days! Well, at least you have a good character.”

And still, you didn’t even care that much. But now, with Choso Kamo standing in front of you while you wear nothing but a bikini top instead of your oversized uniform, you feel trapped.

“Well, thanks I guess”, you mumble, cheeks heating up in an instant.

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowed. Oh god, when is this finally over?

“Why are you looking so uncomfortable?”

“Well, maybe because I’m half naked-“

“I can tell it’s not because of that. Are you insecure?”

Fuck, this man reads you like an open book without mercy. For an incarnated curse, he’s way too emphatic.

“I wouldn’t say it like that but…I mean, look at me.”

“Is it because your breasts are smaller than those of the other female members of Jujutsu High? This doesn’t seem like an issue to me at all, (y/n). After all, breasts are mostly made of adipose tissue. Depending on your fat storage and how your body-“

“Oh god, please stop right now”, you interrupt him.

May the ground swallow you whole and keep you. How on earth did you get into a serious talk about your small chest with none other than Choso Kamo? And why does he know all those things about how women’s breast work?

“You seem to know quite a lot about women’s boobs. Did you study them or something?”

Why does your heart suddenly feel so heavy? It shouldn’t bother you that he talked about those things as if he looks at other women’s tits on a regular basis. But…You fell for him because he seemed like a guy who doesn’t care about those things. Were you mistaken about him?

“Not at all! But I overheard you talking to that other woman about the size of your breast and that you don’t feel comfortable about them, so I did research about this topic.”

Oh. Your heart stops beating for a second, your mind going blank. He did research because he overheard your conversation with Shoko?

“You did that…for me?”

“You’re important to me and I don’t want you to feel sad about something minor like this, (y/n).”

You stare at him like an idiot, still only covered only by a bikini top while all he does his holding your gaze in silence.

“What I want to say is that…You are absolutely beautiful. And so are your breasts-”

“Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. Would you mind if I…Change into something a little more modest?”, you interrupt him before you lose your composure completely.

“Of course!”

Choso doesn’t move. Instead, he just stands there like before and looks at you.

“Would you…Get out so I can change?”

“Oh…Yes, of course.”

Nanami Kento

You can’t help but stare at him through the dim moonlight, hands wrapped around his neck. Oh, he sure feels good pressed against your body so tenderly, his breath caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Kento and you have been together for a few months now, taking things slow since your last relationship was like a trip to hell and back. And even though you are fully aware of the fact that Kento would never treat you badly, you still need time for certain things.

And these certain things contain him seeing you naked. Just one glance into the mirror is hard to bear, especially when it comes to your small chest. You simply hate the way they look, how they ruin every single outfit, how they make you look like a child. No matter what gorgeous gown you’re wearing, you never feel like a woman, like someone worth to be looked at. But still, Kento caresses every curve of your still dressed body carefully.

“You look absolutely stunning in moonlight, darling”, he hushes against your ear.

You love this man with all your heart. How he treats you with way more kindness than a single human would ever deserve, how he makes you feel good about yourself without even knowing. Kento Nanami picks up the pieces of your past and puts you back together like a complicated puzzle. Slowly and steady, step by step.

A whimper escapes your lips, the sensation of his fingertips brushing against your covered skin simply drives you insane. Oh, how much you adore that man, how much you admire him for making you feel so alive. Suddenly his plain touch doesn’t feel like enough anymore. You need him even closer, want to feel him even better.

“Please, take this off”, you mumble against his lips.

Kento stops in his tracks for a second, eyes staring at you intensively in your dark bedroom.

“Are you sure? I told you I can wait”, he reminds you gently while pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

Are you sure? You didn’t let a man touch you after your ex, after all those nasty things he said about your body. Especially your small chest.

“Don’t you wanna get these things…y’know, fixed or something?”

“Leave your shirt on or I’ll turn off the light, these things turn me off...”

You hate how his stupid comments still haunt you even after all those years, despite the fact that you’re laying in the arms of none other than the epitome of a gentleman. Until today, you never allowed your boyfriend to take off your shirt, to even take a single glance in the direction of your exposed chest. But today feels different. With his eyes filled with nothing but affection, you finally feel ready.

“I don’t want you to wait. Please, take off my shirt”, you whisper into the night.

“Tell me to stop when you feel uncomfortable.”

You nod slightly, too occupied by the way his hands carefully wander down to the hem of your shirt, eyes fixated on yours. Your heartbeat picks up in an instant. Out of excitement, out of fear? You glance into his gleaming orbs that are filled with nothing but love. No, you don’t have to fear this man. But still…Will he like what he sees?

“You know I don’t have…I don’t have nice boobs. They are quite small…”, you suddenly blurt out.

“(y/n), you are the love of my life, my precious girlfriend. Every fiber of your being is way more than ‘nice’. I adore every inch of your gorgeous body”, he replies so softly that you feel like tearing up.

As if in slow motion he pulls up your shirt, reveals inch by inch of your naked skin until he pulls the fabric over your head.

You take a deep breath, try to read his face in the dim light. Is he disgusted, does he even look at you? Maybe he’s regretting his decision, maybe he finds you just as ugly as your ex did-

“You are so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you”, he hushes.

Kento Nanami stops your train of thoughts before you get lost in yourself, quiets the stinging voice of your ex-boyfriend inside your head.

Kento thinks you’re beautiful. Kento’s hand caresses your naked skin, gently cups your breast while he never fails to gaze at you.

“I love you, (y/n). In fact, I am the one lucky to have you. Thank you for putting your trust and love in me.”

“You…I love you so much, Kento.”

You can’t contain yourself any longer. Without hesitation, you pull your boyfriend’s face even closer, press your desperate lips against his. What a treasure he is, lifting you up without even realizing how much his words heal your soul.

If a man like Kento Nanami is able to love your small breasts than maybe, just maybe, you’ll start doing that as well.

Ryomen Sukuna

“There’s no way in hell”, you press out, groaning in scorching pain.

“Do you have a death wish or are you just dumb, woman? You know you’ll die if you don’t take off that uniform, right?”, Sukuna remarks dryly.

“I would rather die than taking off my shirt in front of…you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Sukuna can’t help but stare at you in sheer disbelief. Surprisingly enough, he decided to save your ass instead of using his time more efficiently. And now you’re laying in front of him, a gaping hole inside your chest, he offered to save your life.

And you, dumbass of the century, refuse to get saved by none other than the king of curses himself.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you really wish to die so badly?”

“I…I don’t want to die!”, you blurt out.

Fuck, how did you get yourself into that situation? Bad enough that you’ve got hit by that curse right into your chest, even worse that the king of curses himself appeared and wants to help you. But the worst thing is that you need to take your shirt off.

It is ridiculous and you know it. This is not the time to be insecure about your small tits. No, this is absolutely not the time to even think about shit like that. But the sheer thought of Ryomen Sukuna seeing your flat chest alone makes you rather die than letting that happen. No, the last thing you want is him making fun of you.

“Then why are you acting like a child? Hold still. You strange human, I should kill you right on the spot. Good for you I still have use for someone this skilled. You impressed me earlier.”

Under normal conditions, you’d feel some kind of pride over his words. But with death whispering in your ear and the stinging fact that his hands begin to bottom up your shirt….

You freak out.

“GET YOURSELF AWAY FROM ME!”, you scream pathetically, hands fighting so poorly against his that he catches your flying fists mid-air.

“Stop beating me before I’m losing it, brat”, he barks at you.

Just one more button. One more button and you’ll be completely exposed to him. The king of curses, seeing your small boobs.

“DON’T LOOK AT MY BOOBS!”

“What?”

He can’t believe his ears. This can’t be the reason why you pull up this fight. No, there’s absolutely no way in hell you’re acting like this because you’re ashamed of him seeing your breasts.

“Please…Don’t look at my boobs…”

The king of curses just stares at you emotionless.

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do, woman?”

His gaze wanders right down to your bloody chest. You are rather flat chested, but oh you look delicious. Too delicious to take his eyes off you, too delicious to think about saving you. He never hunted after women, was never interested in all those big-chested females with their neck-line hanging to the ground. But you…This looks pleasant.

“Delightful”, he finally speaks out.

Too late for you to hear before your hand smacks roughly into his face.

“I SAID DON’T LOOK!”

“I SAID YOU LOOK DELIGHTFUL YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

“YOU…You what?”

Geto Suguru

Geto can’t help but stare at you, how your hips swing from side to side, how you wear your cute summer dress so easily. Not only the scorching heat of this summer day, but your sight as well make him feel light-headed.

“Staring again, Suguru?”, his best friend teases him in an instant.

“How could I not stare at her. She looks gorgeous in that dress”, he replies, not able to take his eyes off you.

“But she has no tits.”

You wish you didn’t hear those words leaving Satoru’s mouth, wish you could just giggle like a little girl and let your heart beat out of your chest because Suguru said you look gorgeous. But the second the meaning of his saying hits you, you stop in your tracks.

The stinging fact that your breasts are smaller than those of any other women at Jujutsu High and all those popular girls was always hard to bear for you. But with Suguru by your side, with his words sweeter than honey, you slowly but surely began to feel comfortable in your own skin again. Instead of oversized shirts, you started to wear dresses from time to time, bought the one you’re wearing right now with a slight neckline.

All that, only for your confidence to get crushed by that single comment.

You can’t contain yourself anymore. Without even trying to pretend you didn’t hear his venomous words, you turn on your heel and sprint down in the direction of your dorm. How stupid it was to even consider that a man like Suguru would actually like you back. After all, Satoru is his best friend, it’s clear that you look nothing like the girls they usually hang out with. Maybe your small chest isn’t enough for him…

Tears take your sight completely as you run straight to your room.

“(y/n), wait!”

No, not him. Not right now. Your heart almost drops to the floor when you hear his footsteps close behind you. If Suguru tries to cheer you up right now, you might break down completely.

“Hey, please wait for me.”

Gently, he grabs your wrist and spins you around.

“Let go of me”, you hiss, yanking your arm away out of instinct.

You don’t want to get touched by him, to even see him. God, you were really stupid enough to think that this man with the most tender eyes you’ve ever seen would actually like you back.

“Satoru fucked up with that comment. Hey, look at me. I know he made these comments before and I know you’ve had a hard time because of those stupid comments at school. But I’m here to tell you that I love you just the way you are, (y/n) …God, I love you with all my heart, I love you wearing those dresses, I love the way you move, I love the way you look. And it might sound totally weird, but I love your boobs. I’m…I’m obsessed with you.”

You have to blink a few times, try to process what just happened. Within a few minutes, you’ve heard your crush complimenting you, his friend insulting you for having small breasts and now Suguru is standing in front of you again, confessing his love for you and…your boobs?

“You don’t have to say those things to make me feel better”, you try to brush him off.

“I’m saying this because I mean it, (y/n). And I’ll kick his ass for saying something so stupid about you. When it comes to women, Satoru and I are the opposite of each other”, he explains briefly.

Oh, you are fully aware of the fact that Satoru Gojo hunts after every woman with cups bigger than your head. But something about the way Suguru stands in front of you, how his eyes literally beg you to believe him…

“I have enough of people judging me for something I can’t change”, you warn him.

“I don’t want to change a single hair on your body, (y/n).”

Slowly but surely, your eyes stop to burn in agony, your heart stops to ache, your body wakes up from its trance.

“So…you’re into small chested girls? Why am I supposed to believe this?”

Without wasting another minute Suguru steps forward, engulfs your body. And with one last glance into your widen eyes, he presses his lips against you’re the way he always imagined it.

“Is this proof enough?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings@sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly   @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @yukiotacon @satoreo

Gorgeous divider by @saradika 🤍

[murdrdocs]

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

[rc-writes]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: spencer reid x bau!reader

warnings: reader has a headache due to accidentally missing lunch

a/n: one more little blurb i've written due to my criminal minds rewatch journey! as of now i unfortunately have no other little blurbs written so i don't want you guys to think this is me suddenly being active a lot again. like i said in my penelope blurb i make no promises of me posting regularly again, but i definitely want/hope to write more! anyways, this blurb is completely inspired by me forgetting food exists for half a day a few weeks ago and getting a massive headache due to it :/ advice of the day kids, eating is important! lol

You and JJ had been on reading files duty for the day which meant being held up in the tiny room the local police station had set up for the team. Usually, it was Garcia who was in charge of digging through the files for potential suspects, but the station was severely behind on digitizing their files so manual reading was what had to be done.

As the day went on you began to have the world's most annoying headache. It wasn't too debilitating that you couldn't push through it to get through the last few files however, so you continued your reading. That was until you also began to feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you suddenly.

The most you had done all day was walk from one side of the table to the evidence board across the small room, so you weren't sure why you were suddenly on the verge of nodding off. If you were out conducting interviews or going over the crime scenes like you usually did, then maybe that would explain some tiredness, but that wasn't the case today.

"Hey, we're back!" Spencer's sudden voice filling the room made you jump out of your thoughts.

"Hi." You replied back with a soft smile, trying to mask the tiredness. "We managed to narrow the suspect pool to five people."

"Garcia is already on searching for anything that might not be in any of these files." JJ added from her spot at the table.

"Hard to believe anything is not in all these files." You joked, laughing. Mid-laugh your voice seemed to falter, the headache deciding to grow stronger at the sudden higher noise level of the room. You tried to mask your voice fading by slowly turning to face the board again, trying your best to massage your forehead a little.

"Hey are you alright?" Spencer asked as he walked closer to you.

"Yeah, yeah." You lied, turning to face him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that I noticed your movements seem to be a bit sluggish. Not- not to say that's a problem considering you've been cooped up in here all day. But also, I noticed you're rubbing circles into your forehead which might be a sign of a headache. Which is actually a good thing to do when you have one because researchers say-" Spencer trailed off when he noticed you bringing your hand up again to your forehead. "Sorry, that's not the point. Are you okay?"

"I've been a little tired and have a minor headache. Nothing too bad, don't worry." You admitted, no point in trying to lie anymore. "I'm not sure why though. It's not like I've done much moving around all day, just flipping through piles of paper." You gestured to the table. It was then that you noticed JJ had left you two to be alone. "But I suppose just sitting here all day could be exactly the reason." 

"It is proven that little movement can have just as much effect as too much movement on the body." Spencer agreed. "To add to that, whatever you ate for lunch today could also have an effect as well."

Spencer then began to ramble about the importance of what kind of food you need to eat for which meal, but you didn't hear much as your own thoughts were racing.

A look of slight horror crossed your face. "Oh god, I didn't even realize I skipped lunch completely."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got so caught up in reading over the suspect files that I didn't want to leave when everyone else went to go get something from the break room. Thought I'd wait until I got done reading this one file, but I must have gotten too distracted and completely forgot to ever actually get up."

"Honey, no wonder you're tired and have a headache then." He reached for your hands. "You haven't eaten since we had breakfast together at the hotel." 

You held onto his hands back. "Yeah, and it wasn't exactly a big breakfast either." You both laughed. "I guess a big dinner is in my future then."

Spencer nodded, smiling. His eyes seemed to light up suddenly, you assumed some sort of idea popped into his head. He then immediately headed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

Spencer turned, walking backwards out the room. "To find food! Anything! You need to eat pronto." He bumped into the doorframe before walking completely out the room. From your small frame of vision out the doorway you saw he also nearly bumped into one of the local police officers as he was too focused to notice other people. 

You giggled to yourself at his new sudden mission to find you food. He really would do anything at the drop of a hat for you and you had no idea what you ever did to deserve it. But then you thought about how you'd do the exact same for him and he's said before he didn't deserve someone like you. It truly was a never-ending cycle of caring between you two. 

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

gif by: @pedropcl

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: your thoughts are now consumed by joel. you cannot function properly without him nearby.

warnings: MINORS DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], dumbification, toxic attachments, joel is SO fucking manipulative, aftercare (very late), cuddle fingeriinnggg, slow making out, finger sucking, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller, bare pussy grinding, spit as lube cause he's a nasty man, joel is also a scary man

wc: 6.7k

notes: my depraved baddies, we're getting closer and closer to the enddddd. also, virginity is a social construct. i understand that someone can still "lose their virginity" from fingering, BUT THIS IS FICTION. IGNORE IT. AND ENJOY IT. PLEASE. 🥺🥺🥺

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There has never been a time in your life when you felt truly alone. You always had your close group of friends, with whom you spent time nearly every other day, having a great time. You also had social media to keep you busy during times of boredom. Regretting not making the most of those two makes you feel foolish. That's all you'll ever be; a foolish little girl. Joel was right. You're nothing without him. You need him. You need his guidance to navigate the harsh realities of the world. Losing your only two means of escape is forcing you to face revelations you're not ready for. You're not prepared for adulthood, not just yet. At this moment, you feel utterly alone.

Minutes pass as you shuffle on your feet behind Joel, gazing at the back of his head while he sits at the kitchen table. He was considerate enough to leave your door unlocked, granting you the liberty to wander around the house, yet ensuring the front and back doors remained closed and locked. "Can't trust you going out alone anymore," he had said to you earlier today. His reasoning was fair. You had acted recklessly, and now you're facing the consequences. You don't hold Joel responsible. You never did blame him for his decisions. If only you had heeded his advice from the beginning. Be a good girl.

"Uh, Daddy?" You softly call out to him, your voice meek and quiet like a little mouse. Joel barely turns his head, motioning with his finger for you to come closer. With shaky steps, you stand between his spread legs.

Joel's gaze lifts to meet yours, his hair disheveled from constantly running his fingers through it. A sense of satisfaction swells in his chest as he notices your nervousness around him. You struggle to maintain eye contact and can't help but flinch whenever his hand moves abruptly.

"You should be getting down on your knees when you address Daddy, babydoll. It's the only polite thing to do, don't you think?" He tuts at you softly, raising his brows expectantly. He just realized that he hasn't provided his girl with a list of rules to follow. Considering your innocent and unaware nature, he thinks that assigning such a significant task might be too overwhelming for you to handle all at once.

With wide eyes, you scramble to your knees in front of him, your hands placed on the ground between your knees. The positioning accidentally causes the straps of your dress to slide down your shoulders, just barely exposing your chest to Joel's predatory eyes.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, the backs of his knuckles lovingly stroking your jaw, his thumb just barely pressing into one of the finger shaped bruises. "Now, what did you want to ask me, sweetheart?"

The intensity of Joel's gaze makes the question die on your lips. His fingers continue to stroke your jaw gently, their warmth coaxing you into a state of calm. The anxieties that once troubled you are fading away, leaving only the desire to please him, to heed his words, to fulfill his wishes. Joel. Joel. Joel.

He can see your eyes go unfocused the more he keeps his hand connected to your bruised skin. A sick smirk plays on his lips. Seeing you immediately submit to him so easily excites him. To have you down on your knees before him, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted. There's a part of him that wonders why he loves this, this power he holds. Joel is a depraved man, one that feeds into that sick monster hidden beneath him. He never acted this way with your mom. He never even spanks her, let alone gets her to submit in such a way that makes him feel like a god.

The second your body started developing into the womanly figure you have now is what had caught his attention early on. Maybe it's because you looked so much like her in her teenage years, or because you're just so fucking innocent and pure. Either way, his attraction for your mom had long since faded away, and you were the next best thing he wanted to take and destroy.

"Sweetheart," he calls out, gently shaking your shoulder to recapture your attention. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice, coupled with the gesture, brings you back to the moment.

With a frantic blink, you refocus your eyes on Joel. He nods, signaling for you to speak, the slight twitch in his jaw betraying his growing impatience. As you shuffle on your knees, your backside presses into the heel of your feet. You attempt to conceal your grimace, yet the intense pain swiftly radiates. Tears gather in your eyes as the burning sensation and fuzziness become overpowering.

Sniffling softly, you say, "I-I was just w-wondering if... if you can, um, make my behind feel a little better?" The question was shy, and you didn't even want to look at him, for you think he's going to reject you.

Joel's grin broadens at the sight of the soft, dejected expression on your face, and as your shoulders slump and your head hangs low, you brace for his scolding for having asked him to do such a task. You deserve to feel the pain of last night's punishment. You don't deserve Joel's gentle hands massaging the sore spots, kissing and whispering sweet praises in your ears. You weren't a good girl, and you don't blame him for not treating you as such.

His voice was so sweet and cooing. "Yeah? You want Daddy to make the pain go away?" His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, your little pink tip just barely poking out to rub across the pad.

The saltiness of his skin has your mouth salivating. You suck his thumb further between your lip, jerking your head to a weak nod as you hum affirmatively. Joel hums as well, only deep in thought as he weighs his options. He could keep on with his heinous punishments, forcing you to plead for him to stop--it's such a dangerous game to play. Alternatively, he might be kind today and pamper you, lavishing you with affection that you feel you don't deserve, which could further endear him to your impressionable mind. As he looks into your eyes and sees the way you're gazing up at him, his thumb firmly tucked between those lips and your silky little tongue swirling around the tip, he chooses the latter.

"Get your butt upstairs and lie on your tummy while Daddy grabs a few things, okay, babydoll?"

The soft breeze of your ceiling fan emitted a chill throughout your body, albeit a pleasant one. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, almost soothing the heat radiating from your bruised backside. Lying on your stomach, you wait patiently, straining your ears for any sign of Joel, but silence is all that meets you. The anticipation of his arrival has you swallowing hard against your pillow. It's as if he's moving quietly and slowly on purpose, prolonging the moment to heighten your sense of anticipation.

This was how he played his sick games. He was the cat, and you were the mouse. He loves being the predator and you, his prey. And for some obscene reason, you love it too.

A small creak at the doorway made you tense for a moment, but you relaxed upon seeing Joel standing there, his large frame filling the doorway. In his hands were two things: a white cloth rag of some kind and a bottle of lotion. You shiver delightfully, knowing that in just a few minutes he was going to be taking care of you in the way you needed.

"Ain't you a peach," he grins and steps inside, using his foot to fully shut the door, officially trapping the both of you inside. Joel's grin widens when he sees just how marked your backside is, the welts swollen and skin broken, large bruises that are all types of hues of blue and purple. "Hmm... Now, that's what I like to see."

You don't respond, opting to stay silent as you curiously observe him from over your shoulder. He pats your hip with the back of his hand, wordlessly telling you to scoot over. Once you do so, Joel unbuttons his shirt, completely removing the offending clothing from his body and tossing it aside. His chest and stomach were now fully exposed.

In the light, with a clear mind, you finally have the chance to take in every inch of Joel. His skin was so tan, it almost blended between caramel and bronze. Dots of hair speckled his chest, a mix of dark brown and gray. Then, there's hair around his belly button before it trails down to disappear under the waistband of his jeans, the hair getting darker and thicker. His skin is a canvas of freckles and old scars, each one a silent story that tempts your curiosity. Questions about their origins linger on the tip of your tongue, yet they remain unasked, perhaps to be explored if alone time with him arises once more.

"Your head is in the clouds again, babydoll," Joel teases, his voice holding a light-heartedness to it, immediately easing your nerves. At the sound of your quiet giggle that you muffle in your pillow, he gets comfortable between your thighs, gently coaxing them to spread wider to accommodate his large size. "There we go," he whispers under his breath.

The hot rag in his hand is gently laid over your backside, the fabric big enough to cover both cheeks. The sudden feeling made you flinch and whine unpleasantly, one foot gently kicking to try to distract you from the pain. Joel hushes you softly, one of his hands sweetly rubbing up and down the back of your thighs.

"Just relax, babydoll," his voice was so soft and comforting. "Let Daddy take care of your pretty self." He applies light pressure to the hot rag, further soothing the sensitive, enflamed skin. Another whisper comes from above, a little less pained and a lot more relieved. "That feel good, baby?"

You let out a drowsy hum as you succumb to the sensation. There was a liquid heat pooling all around your lower half as the pain from your backside gradually melts into a dull ache. Joel glances down between your thighs, your pussy lips spreading open, labia and clit on display for him to see. There's a shine covering your untouched hole. The pearly slick, slowly, slowly, slowly sliding out of your hole and trailing down to cover your clit. There's a small flutter as your pussy clenches, just briefly. An ache in Joel's jaw and his mouth salivating reminds him that now is not the time to act on his impulse. As much as he wants to bury his face between those thighs, he knows he has to make sure that you're going to be working properly before he has his fun again.

When the rag gets cold, he removes it from your backside. The cold air bites into your skin, the sudden shock taking you by surprise. The sensation of pin pricks across your exposed skin causes you to squirm. Joel is aware that it's painful once more. Your soft whimpers of discomfort prompt a quiet chuckle from him.

He grabs the bottle of lotions and squirts a generous amount into the palm of his hand. "Just a second, babydoll," he tells you softly, coaxing you to lay flat on your tummy again. You wait for a few seconds, and then you feel it.

There's a gooey warmth that covers both of your cheeks. It makes your eyes flutter shut. Then, Joel's hands start to massage your tender flesh, gently rubbing and smoothing out the aches. The pressure was so good, and the weight of his hands on your ass allowed your brain to slowly turn into mush.

He continues massaging your cheeks, even going as far as to "accidentally" swipe his thumb against your puckered hole. The action caused you to jolt and gasp, the sound of his laughter making your cheeks warm. When the ache was now dulled into a pleasant numbness, you stretched out your limbs like a little kitty in the sunlight, a soft hum vibrating into the pillow. You look over your shoulder and watch as Joel wipes his hands clean with the damp rag he had used. Seeing his bare chest has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"Uh... Daddy?" There was hesitation in the way you spoke. The idea occurred to you the second Joel had removed his shirt. The sight of your stepdad in your bedroom, clad in just his jeans, touching you in such a way was exciting. Warmth pooled in your stomach, a certain liquid heat that was hard to ignore.

Joel gazes at you with expectation, his eyebrows lifted as he catches the hesitant expression on your face. It seems like you're eager to ask him something, yet you're apprehensive about his reaction. Before this ambiguous relationship began, you'd always rush over to him, words spilling out rapidly to pose questions without a second thought. He was charmed by it. Your eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, hanging on his every word, which he thought was incredibly cute. However, given his recent behavior, you've become more cautious about your inquiries, wanting to ensure they're significant.

"Can... Can we kiss, like how we did last time?"

The surprise on his face made you giggle. He wasn't expecting you to ask for something like that, let alone think of the naughty stuff he's already done with you at the beginning of the week. Joel clears his throat and trails his eyes over your nude backside, zeroing in on your bare pussy, almost screaming for him to touch and lick up. When he looks back up at you from where you lay against the pillow, your bottom lip tucked underneath your top teeth and your messy hair, he finds himself nodding.

When he props himself up against your pillows, you immediately clamber onto his chest, one leg resting between his legs while your other is propped up and slung over his hip. With your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Joel rests one arm behind your back, curling it to cup your jaw from behind. Your heart is facing as you get close to his face. Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, you're the one that makes the first move.

When your lips meet, it's like stars bursting behind your eyelids. So soft, so inviting. Joel's lips are as addictive as an expensive drug. You crave their touch every second, every minute, every day.

His tongue enters your mouth and you're quick to eagerly suck it between your lips. He groans huskily and pulls his tongue away before messily kissing you. The hand that rests on your hip slowly trails down and around the back of your thigh before the tips of his fingers rest along your labia. Then, he starts rubbing up and down, further spreading the wetness that leaks out of your empty pussy. He touches everywhere. Your swollen clit, puffy labia, bare pussy lips, and your fluttering hole are left untouched.

You're nibbling on his bottom lip, eagerly shoving your tongue sloppily into his tongue. Joel groans at the taste of your mixed saliva. To have you in his arms like this, naked and so very vulnerable, it was driving him fucking insane. Your hips are shifting and bucking towards his hand, but each time his fingers rub deeper, he pulls them away. When he also pulls his lips from yours, you chase them with a desperate whimper.

"Patience, babydoll," he mutters, glancing down at the pleasure-drunk expression on your face. "Let Daddy have some fun." Joel continues smearing your wetness all over. The messy sounds of your slick being rubbed with his long, thick fingers has you blushing fiercely with embarrassment--embarrassed at the fact that he's touching you like this, probably in the same way he's touched your mom in the past. It's so dirty and naughty.

Your hand gently pets at his scruffy jaw, lashes fluttering so prettily like a butterfly's wings. Lips parted, you slowly and gently kissed him again. This kiss, however, was a lot different than the others. There was a tenderness that Joel got lost in. It made his heart skip a beat, like actually skip a beat. You're so sure he can feel your heart racing as well. Languid kissing was now your favorite thing with him. The soft, wet smacking sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting has you whimpering delicately.

Joel's fingers now focus on your fluttering pussy hole, slick dripping out non-stop, further adding to the stickiness on his finger pads. The hand holding your jaw from behind your head tightens to pull you away.

"I'm goin' to put a finger inside, okay, baby? Daddy's goin' to make that little pussy feel so good," he whispers needily against your wet lips. When you protest, he shushes you and kisses your lips repeatedly. "Be quiet while Daddy has his fun."

Very carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside your pussy, shushing you again when you let out a squeak and try to pull your hips away. Joel's fingers follow your movements, only deepening each time you try to move. He slowly fucks his fingers inside your pussy, the tight, wet heat making his dick thicken in his jeans. The sloppy sounds of your slick, coupled with your weak whimpers has him growling lowly. He retracts his finger and goes back to rubbing your pussy in up-and-down movements again, only this time he's paying more attention to your needy clit.

"Tha' feel good, honey?" He murmurs sweetly against your lips, kissing you once, twice, three times before glancing down at you. With a shaky nod, you tell him in that pretty voice yes, yes, feels s'good. "Mhm."

Your hips are barely grinding against his thick bulge as if they have a mind of their own. There's a neediness in the way you mouth at his neck, your tongue and teeth mapping every inch that you can reach. With your focus now on something else, Joel takes this opportunity to move his hand from your weeping cunt and bring it between your bodies to slyly unbutton and unzip his jeans. He slowly pulls them down, leaning his head back down to capture your lips in another syrupy slow kiss. His cock springs out of his jeans and rests above the waistband of his boxers.

You're not paying attention to what he's doing--so focused on his lips, his warm skin, his chest, his tongue, his scent, just Joel. Daddy. Daddy.

With your attention on his mouth, Joel blindly grips the base of his cock and brings the tip to your opening. He glides the engorged tip up and around your fluttering hole, tapping it lewdly and crudely against it as wet smacking sounds filling the air. Your eyes fly open, and your body seizes as you grab onto his burly forearm.

"Daddy, no! I'm not ready yet!" You practically cry out, eyes wide and frazzled as you frantically shake your head. You've seen the size of Joel. The man is packing. He's fucking massive. And you know you're not ready to take all of him. You can't imagine the pain of being split open by something so long and so thick.

Joel hushes you sweetly, removing his hand from his thick base to tenderly grab a hold of your hip again. "Jus' grind tha' pussy on Daddy for a little bit, baby. Ssshh... you can do tha' for me, right?" His hips start to slowly grind his dick between your pussy lips, your labia spreading open and your clit catching his frenulum. "You wanna be a good girl for me, right? You wanna be punished again, babydoll? Hm? That what you want?"

Feeble whimpers leave your swollen lips at the thought of Joel further punishing you, beating your backside black and blue again. Resting back onto his chest, you shyly wiggle your hips until the position is comfortable enough for you to grind your hips forward and back. Joel grins and cups the back of your thigh to lift it higher on his waist. The feeling of his cock, now covered in your wetness and gliding easily between your pussy lips, has you feeling so tingly and warm down there. It was a new sensation. Getting to feel the thick vein that stretches from the base all the way to his tip was surreal.

"It... It feels... good," you whisper against his scruffy jaw, lips parted next to his chin to let out heavy breaths as the warmth spreads. "I-I like it."

Joel's deep chuckle reached your ears. "Daddy knows best, babydoll," he tells you, his hips grinding a little harder, so his tip nudges the hood of your clit to fully expose the sensitive nerve. "Daddy knows what's good for you, honey." His hand tightens on your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks to part your lips. "You're jus' my little girl that don't know any better, ain't you? Hm? Are you my dumb babygirl?"

The kiss he gives you is filthy. Your hushed whines are muffled as his tongue fights against yours. The liquid heat burns bigger and stronger, spreading all throughout your lower half, down to the tips of your toes and back up again. Your cunt is fluttering wildly. You feel the same sensation as when Joel ate your pussy. He knows it's going to happen. He can tell in the way your whines get more high-pitched and your hips stutter against his wet cock.

When he pulls away, you chase after him again, one hand desperately grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back down. No, no, no, please, don't go, don't leave me. Eyes filled with tears, you weakly beg him, "Da-Daddy, p-please don't... d-don't stop."

As Joel pulls away, the panic clear as day in your eyes has his heart thudding faster. Oh, you poor girl. So desperate to keep him close by. It was an adorable sight, seeing your eyes filled with thick tears as you beg him, over and over again to please, don't leave me. But he hushes you softly, gripping your jaw tighter and pressing into the bruises. His free hand comes up to his lips where he spits a thick wad of saliva in his palm. His hand goes back down between your bodies to coat his cock in his spit, some of it dripping down his heavy balls.

"Can I put the tip inside your little pussy, baby?" Joel breathlessly asks against your swollen lips, pressing a tender kiss before repeating the question again. "Can Daddy put the tip inside? Hm?"

He grinds his cock up and down your pussy again, the added slickness of his spit creating this disgusting, sopping noise. You start protesting as he notches his thick tip at your wet entrance. Grabbing at his forearm once again, you try your best to keep him from pushing it inside.

Shaking your head frantically, you tell him again, weakly, "I-I'm not ready yet, Daddy!"

Joel shuts you up by biting down roughly on your bottom lip, breaking the skin and licking away the blood that dots the pink flesh. With your blood on his tongue, that only fuels the animalistic need within him to fucking split you open.

"It's just the tip, babydoll," he tells you again, his voice deep, gravelly, wrecked. "You can take it, honey. C'mon. You can... take it." Ignoring your crying protests, he slowly pushed his hips up to slide his tip inside your pussy for the first time. He groans heavily against your mouth, sucking your bloody bottom lip between his own and licking the redness away. "Fuuuuuck."

The burn was nearly excruciating. Having something so thick and wide inside your virgin pussy has your breath catching in your throat. To know that Joel wants to put every single inch of himself deep inside is terrifying. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. No, no, no.

"See? It ain't so bad, huh?" Joel's grin is sick and wide as he feels your hole fluttering wildly around his tip. He gently starts to push his hips in and out, slowly fucking his tip into your cunt. "She's jus' suckin' me right in, ain't she? Fuuuck, baby. She's jus' drivin' me fuckin' crazy." His accent was getting gradually thicker and almost incoherent. His heart is racing over a hundred beats per minute under your shaky palm.

You're trying to breathe in and out deeply to not focus on the uncomfortable pain. The stretch was slowly setting to a numbness. The tip of Joel's cock keeps pressing against a spot beneath your pubic bone, giving you the feeling of tingles but more intense. Joel's smile gets much wider when your body relaxes against his chest, your nose pressing into his neck beneath his ear to let out hushed moans that you're trying so hard to keep silent.

"There we go," he hums deeply. "She jus' needed time to get used to Daddy's dick, hm?" The way he's talking to you and referencing your pussy has you melting into a puddle. It's all so intense and overwhelming--you never want it to end. "Jus' you wait 'til Daddy gets so deep inside of her." He accentuated the word by nudging just an inch deeper inside your pussy, forcing a choked groan from your drooling lips.

Joel's hand is still curled around the base, just below his tip. He can feel the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach as his balls draw tighter. He's panting heavily against your forehead, the slick noises just adding to the liquid heat spreading along his large body. Fuck, he was going to cum just like this, his tip lodged inside his stepdaughter's tight, virgin cunt. A sick, old man he is--defiling his wife's daughter and enjoying the depravity. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Fuck," Joel growls, his nostrils flaring, jaw clenching, and teeth baring as he grips his base tightly and yanks his hips away. He slots his cock between your ass cheeks and strokes his hand up and down hastily, your bruised cheeks jiggling from his fist meeting the flesh repeatedly. The sight has his toes curling. The drowsy whimper you release in his ear and the fucking scent of your pussy that he can smell all the way up from where he lay has his cock throbbing. "Daddy's cummin', babydoll. Oh, f-fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck."

His cum shoots out from between your ass cheeks, thick ropes of white painting your bruises and cute little back dimples, even going so far to reach up your spine and almost landing in your hair. He just won't stop cumming. It's going and going. Joel's entire body is trembling as he jerks the tip, forcing out the last few dribbles of his cum onto your puckered hole.

You felt his spend splattering across your skin, and you wiggle impatiently in his hold, wishing you could've seen it with your own eyes if you weren't so tucked against his neck. Joel lets out a heavy, shaky breath. His beautifully hooked nose brushes against yours, coaxing you to lift your head.

He brings his cum-covered fingers to your lips, the tips rubbing lovingly across the bottom. Maintaining eye contact, you part them and let Joel slowly push his fingers into your mouth. The taste of his cum on your tongue was unlike anything you've ever tasted. It was a masculine, heavy taste, which perfectly accentuates who Joel Miller is. Your eyes flutter shut as you eagerly bring in a third finger, your lips stretched wide around his thick fingers.

"Attagirl," Joel huskily mumbles. "Jus' like that."

You and Joel have fallen into a steady routine. There's an unspoken agreement of where your place is. He can shoot you a specific look and you immediately know what he's trying to say. Joel's an easy man to read, at least to you. There have been many instances where you overheard him and your mom arguing about him being so closed off. But with you, he's so natural at showing you multiple sides of him. You don't mind, really.

As evening falls, Joel is at the stove preparing dinner for both of you. Although it's not your preferred meal, his word is final--what he says, goes. You've learned not to refuse what he's offered so far. Standing near him, you observe his actions with keen interest. Joel often glances back to ensure you're there. You trail behind him, following his every step without question, much like a lost puppy would. Even when he steps into the bathroom, you find yourself waiting right outside the door for him to emerge. It was a weird feeling; a fear you never knew you had within you when it came to your stepdad. You feel as though if he leaves for just a split second, he's never going to come back. And you'll be here lost, alone.

"Dinner time, sweetheart," Joel declares, snapping you out of your daydream. As you dash to the table, he halts you with a hand on your arm. "Whoa, slow down there, speed racer." Chagrined by his gentle chiding, you offer a subdued apology.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, you attempt to follow suit, but he loudly tuts and extends a hand to halt you. Grasping your plate, he sets it down beside his feet. His expression leaves no space for objections. Similar to the previous day, you are left without utensils to eat with. Wordlessly, you get down onto your knees and wait for him to tell you when it's okay to start eating. Joel starts eating his meal pathetically slowly. He's doing it on purpose--you know he's doing it on purpose. He loves making you squirm. He loves to draw it out longer than it's supposed to--just an added perk to his game.

When your stomach starts grumbling loudly, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel barely casts you a glance. He keeps eating his meal, even going as far as to hum loudly as the savoring flavors explode on his tongue. When he has just a few bites left, knowing that your food is now cold, he looks down and gives you a single nod.

Immediately, you bow your head to your plate and begin to hastily mop up your meal. It's untidy and careless, yet it doesn't bother you. You're uncertain when Joel might surprise you again, preventing or restricting your eating. As you take each bite, you watch for a sign from him to cease. Looking up, you notice his focus is solely on his own meal, methodically chewing. Sensing your gaze, he commands without glancing your way, "Eat your damn food before I take it away." With a strained whimper, you comply.

Silence stretches through the air as you both eat. You refrain from mentioning to Joel that your stomach is cramping from eating too quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the meal he prepared with care. When he looks at you, he notices the gradual slowing of your jaw as you struggle to swallow. It's becoming apparent to him that feeding you just once a day is taking its toll.

Suddenly, a series of knocks sounded at the door—five urgent, frantic raps. Panic gripped you, shoulders tightening and jaw clenching as you exchanged a fearful glance with Joel. His brows knitted together, and he quickly wiped his hands and mouth with the napkin.

He points down at you, "You stay right here, and don't make a peep. Understood?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before forcefully pushing back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. You wince and watch anxiously as he stomps over to the door and peers through the peephole.

Joel's jaw clenches upon recognizing the visitor. Muttering, "Son of a bitch," he pulls the door open, one hand gripping the doorknob while the other rests atop the doorframe. There on the porch stands your lanky guy friend, the one you visited the lake with. "Can I help you?" he asks, his tone sharp and unwelcoming.

Your friend shifts nervously, taken aback by Joel answering the door. He softly clears his throat, attempting to peer over Joel's shoulder, but Joel moves nearer to the doorway, narrowing the gap on his side.

"I was wondering if your stepdaughter is home?" he stammers, avoiding eye contact with Joel. "She hasn't been answering her phone, and our friends are really worried," he adds, while Joel feels a sense of satisfaction from the fear he perceives in the boy's demeanor.

"She's grounded," Joel says, his tone getting colder when the boy tries, yet again, to look over his shoulder. "Now, I suggest you turn your ass around and get the fuck off my porch."

Your friend's eyes widen, and he takes a staggered step back at Joel's violently dark tone. "The fuck is your problem, man?!"

From within the house, the volume of your friend's voice escalates, almost to a shout at Joel. You observe Joel's hand clench around the doorknob, and it's surprising that it remains intact under his grasp.

He can't understand what overtakes him; perhaps it's knowing you're mere feet away, or maybe it's because the kid has witnessed things about you he disapproves of. However, the only thing Joel is aware of is the white-hot rage engulfing him. You watch as he storms out and slams the door with such force that the vibration is felt on the ground where you kneel.

Outside, Joel's hands clench the collar of the boy's shirt, likely tearing the fabric with his sheer strength. He thrusts him against the porch post, almost splintering the wood and the boy's skull with the impact. Joel leans in, his shoulders rising and falling, emitting a low growl from his throat. The boy's whimpers are muffled as Joel's knuckles press into his windpipe.

"Listen to me, and you listen good," Joel leans in close, his voice low and dangerous. "If you so much as talk to her again, look at her, touch her, or even think about her, I'll have you wishin' you were never born." Your friend's toes are barely skimming the ground as Joel has him literally lifted up against the wooden post. His hands are frantically grabbing Joel's forearms, feet weakly kicking. The man doesn't budge--he only presses harder. "If you come back to my house to bother my girl one more time, I will fuckin' kill you." He gravely whispers the last threat and releases his hands, watching as your friend pathetically falls to the ground onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as he grabs his throat. "Now, go on. Get."

Joel remains on the porch, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His gaze is fixed on your friend as he dashes away and fumbles into his meager Honda Civic. Even after the vehicle disappears down the road, Joel is motionless. The fury within him, burning in his chest and gut, has not subsided; it has only grown stronger.

Within the house, silence prevails. A single loud thump disrupts the quiet, followed by stillness. You pause for a moment, the sound of your own heartbeat the only noise. The urge to call out to Joel is strong, but the words are stuck in your throat. Anxiety creeps back into your chest, gnawing at your heart and corroding your veins. Did Joel leave? Where is he? Where did he go? Please, come back. Daddy, don't leave. Where are you? Please, please, come back. Don't leave me here alone. They're going to get me. Please. Oh, God. He's gone. He's never coming back.

White noise fills the cracks in Joel's mind. He sits on the porch swing hunched over, both elbows resting on his knees as he twiddles with his gold wedding band. His knee bounces up and down in quick succession. Someone had gotten too close to his home--to his special girl. The lanky fucking kid. Joel's hands clench into tight fists, just begging to slam them into your friend's face over and over until he's a mangled, unrecognizable pile of flesh and broken bones.

He's uncertain of the time he's spent out here; it might have been minutes or perhaps an hour. Time mattered little to him. His thoughts were consumed by you, his little girl. In his eyes, no one could match what he has provided for you, and he believes you would agree. Joel is confident in his knowledge, convinced that you belong to him. He sees himself as your destined protector, even if his hands were metaphorically elongated like a beast with monstrous nails ready to strike.

You belonged to Joel Miller, whether you knew it or not.

As the streetlights flicker on, he realizes it's time to head back inside. The neighborhood is winding down for the evening. A sudden memory jolts Joel; he had left you alone in the house. Leaping from his seat, he flings the door open, then slams it shut, securing both the bottom and top locks. Turning towards the kitchen, he freezes upon spotting you—a mere few feet away, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, whimpering and trembling.

"Babydoll," Joel tuts and carefully walks around you to bend down, tenderly pushing your hair from your face and catching sight of your tear-filled eyes. "Did I tell you to move? Hm?"

The sound of his voice was like a lifeline to your heart—his words were the breath you needed, and you felt as if you were at death's door. In a rush, you stood and threw your arms around his shoulders, almost toppling both of you to the ground. Tears streamed down your face, and sobs of distress were just barely restrained the moment his body pressed against yours.

Crying out to him, "Y-You left me! You l-left me a-alone! I thought... I thought you weren't coming back! The bad people were gonna t-take me away from you!" Trying to bury yourself deeper in his neck, you silently begged for Joel to take you somewhere, far away from here.

It was naive to believe you could manage alone. At your current age, it's only a matter of time before your mom discusses the prospect of moving out. Yet now, the mere idea of being apart from Joel triggers a wave of panic. How can you explain to your mom that without him, you feel incomplete? She might find it appalling. It wasn't difficult to keep your relationship with Joel a secret, but the threat of being pushed out of the house makes you wonder if it's worth it.

"I-I don't think I can do this anymore, Joel," you wept, sniffling and breathing heavily in his shoulder, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close when he shifts an inch or two away. "I can't... I can't be away from you. I can't th-think, I can't function, I can't breathe w-without you, Daddy!"

There it was, the answer he's been waiting for. Hook, line, sinker. Joel has damaged you so severely to where you need to be around him or else you'll go crazy. This is what he was waiting for, fucking aching for. So young, so innocent, so pure. Now tainted by his predatory hands, bruised and marked by his false promises and sick fantasies. This is a dream come true. His wedding band almost burns through your skin as you feel the cold metal on your bare shoulder.

"Oh, my sweet babydoll," he coos in your ear, that honeyed tone of his easing your worries.

If only you understood his thoughts about you, his desires from you. Convincing your mind that this relationship is normal, making you believe that this is true love—you poor, poor girl.

Joel continues, his voice gradually turning dark as his hands tighten around your shoulders, nails digging crescents into your delicate skin, "This is just the beginning."

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