#and since then the song makes me tear up every time

[lvnleah]

omg foxy fic for u! team night out where y/n let’s foxy drink so y/n can drive her back to their house later on and stuff since y/n prefers not to drink, when foxy is drunk she’s all over y/n and practically pulls her into her lap in the booth with teases from the team. just a funny cute fic, maybe foxy gets on karaoke and sings a love song and declares her love for y/n infront of the whole club. y/n takes her home and does her skin care routine since she’s too drunk to do it and looks after her .. feel like because she’s quite quiet she’d be a chaotic drunk

drunken love | emily fox

emily fic after the absolute banger she scored today!

A team night out always promised chaos. You weren’t much of a drinker, which meant you got the all-important job of being the responsible one. And given Emily’s growing tendency to cling to you like a magnet when drunk, it was a good thing, too.

She was three drinks in, giggling at absolutely nothing and staring at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

“Babe,” she slurred, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You are too beautiful for me.”

Before you could respond, her bottom lip wobbled.

Oh, no.

“Babe, don’t cry,” you whispered, cupping her face before it turned into a full-blown scene.

“I just love you so much,” she sniffled, her arms locking around your waist in a death grip.

Across the table, Leah and Katie burst out laughing.

“She’s a mess,” Lotte said, shaking her head.

“She’s your mess,” Alessia added, giving you a knowing grin. 

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Emily gasped like you’d just broken her heart.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

“I don’t,” you reassured her, rubbing her back.

Seemingly satisfied, she nuzzled into your neck. “Good ‘cause I’d die without you.”

That earned another round of laughter from the table. Emily was normally a quiet, steady presence, quick-witted but never one to be the loudest in the room. But drunk Emily? Oh, drunk Emily was a romantic, dramatic, clingy mess.

And the team loved every second of it.

A server passed by, placing another round of drinks on the table, and Emily perked up immediately.

“Shots?” she asked hopefully. “Let’s do some shots!”

“No shots,” you said, pulling her back down before she could make a break for it.

“But I love shots,” she pouted.

“I know, babe. But you love me more, right?”

Her expression turned serious as she considered that. Then, with all the conviction in the world, she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, snuggling into you again. “Love you wayyy more.”

Katie pretended to wipe a tear, just as drunk as Emily, “Beautiful, absolutely beautiful Foxy.”

You rolled your eyes.

Emily hummed, seemingly lost in her world. “Can you be my girlfriend?” she mumbled suddenly.

You blinked. “I already am.”

“Oh,” she said, as if this was brand-new information. Then, she grinned. “Lucky me! Did you guys know she was my girlfriend?” She said, turning to her teammates.  

Lotte choked on her drink.

Before you could even process that, Beth clapped her hands.

“Alright, time for karaoke.”

You immediately tensed, and Emily immediately lit up.

“Me! I wanna go!” she cheered, raising her hand like a kid in class.

“Oh no,” you muttered. “Babe, maybe we just sit this one out—”

“Absolutely not,” Leah interrupted. “She’s gotta do it now.”

With the entire table cheering her on, Emily stumbled up to the tiny stage, grabbing the mic with the confidence of a woman who had absolutely no business being that drunk in public.

“This one’s for my girlfriend,” she announced dramatically, pointing directly at you.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh, God.”

The team erupted into cheers. Emily squinted at the screen, clearly struggling to focus, before grinning.

The intro music started.

You recognized it immediately.

It was “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston.

Before you could even attempt to stop this disaster, Emily launched into it with the passion of someone performing for thousands, completely off-key, swaying like she might fall over at any second.

The team was losing their minds.

Katie was doubled over, Leah had tears in her eyes, and Alessia was recording every second of it. Meanwhile, you were sinking lower and lower into your seat, face buried in your hands.

When Emily hit the chorus, she dramatically reached out toward you like this was a tragic movie scene.

“I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU!”

You were going to die. You could feel your soul physically leaving your body.

“She is SO gone,” Leah wheezed, wiping tears from her face.

“She’s in love,” Lotte corrected, shaking her head in awe. “That’s pure, unfiltered love.”

Somehow, Emily made it through the entire song, taking a deep bow at the end. As the whole bar cheered, you wanted to crawl into a hole.

Emily stumbled back toward you, flopping into the booth with the biggest grin.

“Did you like it?” she asked sweetly, beaming at you like a proud puppy.

“I—yeah, babe. It was… something.”

She sighed dreamily, tucking her head into your shoulder. “You’re my muse.”

Lotte snorted so hard she almost choked. You had to get her home. 

“I think we’re calling it a night,” you announced, standing up and helping Emily to her feet. “Let’s get you home.”

“Oh, mine or yours?” she asked innocently.

“Ours,” you corrected, throwing an arm around her waist to steady her.

Emily gasped like you’d just proposed. “Oh, wow.”

The car ride was an adventure in itself. Emily had insisted on DJing, which mostly meant playing love songs at full volume and dramatically serenading you, often reaching across to grab your hand or trace hearts on your arm.

At a red light, she turned to you with the softest expression.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, like it was the biggest secret in the world.

You glanced at her, shaking your head fondly. “Thank you, baby but you’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk and in love,” she corrected, squeezing your hand.

You laughed. “I know.”

When you finally pulled into your driveway, Emily stretched her arms above her head, a lazy smile on her face.

“We made it,” she said proudly. “You’re such a good driver!”

“Yep. Let’s get you inside before you fall asleep in the car.”

She huffed but let you help her out. Once inside, she flopped onto the couch with zero grace, arms spread like a starfish.

“Babe, bed,” you reminded her. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“But the couch is nice,” she murmured, already half-asleep.

You crouched beside her, brushing hair from her face. “Come on, I’ll even do your skincare for you.”

That got her attention. Her eyes fluttered open, sparkling with mischief.

“You’d do that for me?”

You smiled. “Always.”

Emily reached out, poking your cheek. “You’re the best.”

With some effort, you got her to the bathroom, where she sat on the closed toilet lid, watching you with the softest look as you carefully wiped off her makeup.

“Nobody’s ever done this for me before,” she mumbled.

You kissed her forehead. “Get used to it.”

She sighed happily, closing her eyes as you applied her moisturizer. Once she was all set, you helped her change into one of your oversized hoodies and led her to bed. As soon as she hit the mattress, she pulled you down with her, snuggling into your chest.

“I’m gonna marry you,” she murmured sleepily.

Your heart squeezed. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You smiled into her hair. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

Emily hummed, already halfway asleep, “I’m planning on doing it soon, just need a ring!”

[amethystarachnid]

So I saw a post on Pinterest and I thought it would be a good idea for a fanfic?im just gonna type it out and explain it after

Peter: im back from my trip i got you another magnet mr.white wolf

Bucky:cool stick it on

-

Tony: is that peters shopping list on your arm?

Bucky: yea

Tony: what the

-

Tony: Peter you need to stop using buckys arm as a fridge

Peter: Mr. White wolf said it helps him associate the arm with something other than murder

Tony: crying

So basically I was wondering if you could do this well not this interaction but like reader and Bucky are friends and reader is Peter? If that makes any sense?

STICKERS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x teen!gn!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic, fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 2.5k (I'm so sorry if it's too short, hope you like it anyway)

ᯓ★ Summary: Bucky always lets you stick stickers to his vibranium arm but had never told you why...until now.

ᯓ★ I hope I understood the request well, and I tried to make the reader gender neutral since it wasn't specified in the ask, hope you like it <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The hum of the compound is familiar by now. Machines whir softly in the background, the faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear Sam and Tony bickering over something that probably doesn’t matter. This is home—at least, as close as it gets. It wasn’t always, but things changed. The world changed, and you had to change with it.

Being here is better than being out there. You know that much. The compound is safer. It’s structured. Sure, it’s a little weird living with a bunch of Avengers, but it beats the alternative. When SHIELD fell apart, a lot of things got messy, including your life. No family, no place to go, just a kid caught in the middle of something bigger than them. Steve found you first, said they’d figure something out, and now, somehow, you’ve ended up here. Officially, you’re under the Avengers’ protection. Unofficially, you’re the compound’s resident stray.

“Alright, what is it this time?”

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up from where you’ve been hunched over the kitchen counter, fidgeting with a fresh roll of stickers. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking at you with an exasperated sort of fondness.

You grin. “You make it sound like I’ve done something bad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” you say, tearing off a small sticker shaped like a cat. Without hesitation, you reach out and press it to the cool vibranium of his forearm. It sticks perfectly, just like you knew it would.

Bucky sighs like a man who has known deep suffering. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because you let me,” you answer simply, peeling off another sticker—this one shaped like a tiny watermelon slice—and placing it beside the first.

It’s true. You started doing this months ago, fully expecting him to shut it down after the first few times. He never did. The first time, it had been a dumb impulse, something to break the tension. You’d been talking, and without really thinking about it, you’d stuck a star-shaped sticker onto his arm. He’d given you a long, unreadable look but hadn’t peeled it off. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Now, it’s a habit. Every time you see him, you add a new one. Sometimes, he’ll pretend not to notice. Other times, he’ll act put-upon, like he’s carrying some great burden. You know better, though. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t still be standing here, letting you decorate his arm like it’s an elementary school art project.

“I let you do a lot of things,” he mutters, watching as you place a little frog next to the watermelon.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you say, grinning.

“Steve’s gonna be hurt,” he points out.

“Steve’s got enough fans,” you reply, reaching for another sticker. This one’s a smiley face with sunglasses. You stick it on his wrist.

Bucky glances down at his arm, then back at you. His expression softens—just a little. “Y’know, people used to be scared of me.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, adding a rainbow to his forearm, “they clearly weren’t looking hard enough. You’re a giant teddy bear.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “A ‘teddy bear’ with a metal arm and a kill count.”

“Even teddy bears have claws,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, you let a teenager put stickers on you. That automatically lowers your intimidation factor.”

Bucky huffs but doesn’t argue. You know he won’t take them off. He never does, at least not right away. Sometimes, hours later, you’ll spot him across the compound, still wearing them.

That’s enough for you.

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

The first one to point it out is Sam.

You’re both sitting in the common room, Bucky on the couch, you curled up on the opposite end, sorting through a new pack of stickers you got from a store Tony let you raid on a supply run. They’re good ones, too—holographic, shimmery, some even glow in the dark. You’re in the process of carefully placing a tiny raccoon on Bucky’s wrist when Sam strolls in, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you.

His brows pull together. “Uh, what the hell is that?”

Bucky, who has clearly mastered the art of selective ignorance, doesn’t look up from his book. You, however, grin and wave. “What’s what?”

“That,” Sam says, pointing at Bucky’s arm like it personally offended him.

Bucky finally sighs, lowering his book just enough to glare over the top of it. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, man.”

Sam narrows his eyes and gestures again. “That. The stickers. What am I looking at?”

You lean back, admiring your work. By now, Bucky’s metal arm is covered in a vibrant mess of stickers—cartoon animals, little hearts, a glittery UFO, and even a miniature Avengers logo you’d snuck in just for fun.

You beam. “Art.”

Sam blinks. He looks at Bucky, then back at you, then back at Bucky. “And you’re just…letting them do this?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah.”

Silence. Sam stares, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Eventually, he just lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Man, you really are getting soft.”

Bucky flips him off without looking up.

You take that as permission to add another sticker—a rainbow-colored star, right on his shoulder.

Sam shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before grabbing his drink from the fridge and heading out, still looking vaguely disturbed by what he just witnessed.

Of course, Sam being Sam, the moment he’s out of the room, you know he’s going to tell the others.

The next one to comment on it is Natasha.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a bowl of cereal, when she walks in. She nods at you in greeting before grabbing a protein bar from the cabinet. It’s a normal morning, nothing out of the ordinary—until she glances at Bucky and does a double-take.

She tilts her head slightly. “Did you get in a fight with a Lisa Frank notebook?”

You nearly choke on your cereal.

Bucky, who is now used to this reaction, doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Natasha takes a bite of her protein bar, studying him. “Then why does your arm look like a kindergarten art project?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, so you take it upon yourself. “Because I put them there.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “And he let you?”

“Obviously,” you say, popping another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

She’s quiet for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking from you to Bucky. You half-expect her to make a snarky comment or tease him, but instead, she just hums and says, “Huh.”

And then she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a tiny cat magnet, and sticks it to his forearm before walking away like nothing happened.

Bucky stares after her, brow furrowed. He lifts his arm slightly, looking at the magnet now clinging to the vibranium.

You snort. “You’re officially a walking fridge.”

He groans.

It only gets worse from there.

A few days later, Steve notices.

You’re in the gym, watching Bucky and Steve spar while pretending to be invested in a book. In reality, you’re mostly waiting for them to finish so you can rope Bucky into watching a movie with you.

Steve circles Bucky, eyes narrowed in concentration. He throws a punch, which Bucky easily dodges. There’s a beat of silence before Steve suddenly drops his stance, frowning.

“…Are those stickers?”

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve squints, stepping back to get a better look. “They are.” His frown deepens. “And…are those magnets?”

You bite back a laugh.

Bucky glares at you like this is somehow your fault (which, to be fair, it is).

Steve crosses his arms. “You’ve been walking around like this?”

“Yes.”

“And you just…let them do it?”

“Yes.”

Steve blinks, clearly struggling to process this information. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to reconcile the image of his best friend, ex-Winter Soldier, walking around covered in colorful stickers and fridge magnets.

Eventually, he just sighs. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky smirks. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

Steve shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but doesn’t push the subject further.

You take that as a win.

Tony’s reaction is arguably the best.

You’re in the lab with Bucky, keeping him company while Tony messes around with something that looks vaguely explosive. He’s in the middle of rambling about some new upgrade for Bucky’s arm when he abruptly stops mid-sentence.

His eyes narrow. “Hold on.”

Bucky tenses. “What?”

Tony steps closer, squinting at his arm. He lifts a finger and flicks one of the magnets, watching as it wobbles slightly before settling back into place.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

Tony bursts out laughing. “Oh, this is rich. You—you’ve been walking around like this? Just letting them stick things to you?”

“Yes,” Bucky says flatly.

Tony looks at you, still grinning. “You did this?”

You nod proudly. “Yep.”

He lets out an impressed whistle. “Wow. I gotta say, Barnes, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you done?”

Tony pretends to consider. “Nope.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath and turns to leave, but before he can make his escape, Tony suddenly grabs a Stark Industries magnet from his workbench and slaps it onto Bucky’s bicep with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky glares at him. “I hate you.”

Tony winks. “No, you don’t.”

You snicker as Bucky stomps out of the lab, now sporting a Stark-branded magnet.

Despite the teasing, Bucky never takes them off right away.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him absentmindedly running his fingers over a sticker while he’s reading or training. Other times, you’ll see him glance down at his arm, something soft and unreadable in his expression before he quickly schools his face back into neutrality.

You don’t push. You don’t have to.

He lets you do this because he knows it makes you happy. Because he knows it makes you feel safe.

And, maybe—just maybe—because he doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to.

The stickers—and now magnets—become a daily ritual.

At this point, everyone in the compound has noticed. Clint, predictably, laughs himself half to death when he first sees Bucky with a sparkly unicorn sticker on his wrist. Thor, on the other hand, is completely unbothered. He takes one look, nods approvingly, and later gifts you a set of Asgardian insignia stickers that you immediately slap onto Bucky’s arm. Even Bruce, who usually keeps to himself, quietly asks if he can contribute and hands you a little atom-shaped magnet one afternoon.

Bucky grumbles about it, of course. He sighs dramatically when you press another sticker onto his arm, acts like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world, but he never actually stops you. He never pulls away. He never tells you no.

And he never takes them off until he’s alone.

You start paying attention, watching him when he thinks no one else is looking. He’ll be in the middle of a conversation, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the stickers on his forearm, tracing the edges. You notice that he doesn’t cover his arm as much anymore—not as often as he used to. Before, he wore long sleeves even in the middle of summer, like he couldn’t stand the sight of it. Now, he just lets it be.

That realization sits in the back of your mind for a long time.

Then, one day, you ask.

It’s late.

Most of the compound has already turned in for the night. The common room is quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the television, where some old black-and-white movie plays with the volume low. You’re curled up on the couch next to Bucky, a fresh pack of stickers in your lap.

You press a new one onto his arm—a tiny golden retriever wearing sunglasses—before hesitating.

“Hey, Buck?”

He glances down at you. “Yeah?”

You fidget slightly, turning the next sticker over in your hands. “…Why do you let me do this?”

Bucky blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Huh?”

You gesture vaguely to his arm, now covered in an assortment of colorful stickers and small magnets. “This. Why do you let me put them on you? You could’ve told me to stop. But you didn’t.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. His expression shifts—just a little—but you catch it. A flicker of something uncertain, something careful, like he’s picking his words before speaking.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“…Because it helps.”

You tilt your head. “Helps with what?”

Bucky glances down at his arm, his fingers skimming over the stickers.

“You know what this arm used to be,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “What it used to do.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

He swallows, his jaw tight. “For a long time, it felt like it didn’t belong to me. Like it was just…a weapon. A part of me that wasn’t really mine.” His fingers brush over the little cartoon raccoon you stuck near his wrist. “But then you started doing this. And…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say immediately.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe not. But it’s…different, now. When I look at it.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “When I see the stickers, I don’t think about the things I’ve done. I think about you. About Sam rolling his eyes, Nat sneaking magnets onto me, Steve acting like he doesn’t get it even though he does.” His voice softens. “I think about now. Not then.”

You don’t know when your eyes started burning, but suddenly, it’s hard to see. You swallow thickly, trying to blink away the sting.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out smaller than you meant it to.

Bucky glances at you, eyes sharp. “Hey. Don’t cry on me, kid.”

“I’m not,” you lie, furiously rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just—you just said something really nice, and my dumb emotions weren’t prepared for it.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the guy covered in stickers,” you sniff, but you’re smiling now, even if your throat is still tight.

Bucky shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but there’s something softer in his expression when he looks at you.

“…Thanks, kid.”

You look up at him. “For what?”

He gestures vaguely at his arm. “This. The stickers. Everything.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just grab another sticker and carefully press it onto the back of his hand.

Bucky glances down at it. It’s a tiny heart.

He smiles.

I'm so sorry if this it's too short I didnt know what else to add :(

[princesseilish]

Heyy babyy, been missing u and I have a request that i've been thinking about actually and you're the only person that came to mind. (Always thinkin about u)

Probably Billie saying goodbye for the tour and reassuring her daughter or probably y/n leaving to run some errands and having Billie all the responsibility with the two kids.

You choose cause I can't make up my mind actually :/

(imissyousomuch and iloveyouwifey💋)

LULLABY

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: crying, fluff, no use of cursing, that’s it? i think?

Synopsis: Billie is leaving for her first show, for tour, and she has never been away from her daughter for that long

A/N: Hii my love, i miss you too, like more than you’ll ever know

The night before Billie left for her Hit Me Hard and Soft tour, Rosie was inconsolable. The little girl, usually so full of energy and speaking in hyperbole, was now a sobbing mess, clinging to Billie like her life depended on it.

“Mommy, don’t go,” she hiccupped, her tiny hands gripping Billie’s hoodie, refusing to let go.

Billie, sitting on the edge of their bed with Rosie in her lap, sighed softly and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Bug, you know I have to, but I promise I’ll call you all the time, okay? And I’ll be home before you even know it.”

Rosie wasn’t convinced. Her big brown eyes, already puffy from crying, welled up again as she buried her face into Billie’s chest. “But—but what if I miss you too much?”

Y/n, sitting beside them, gently rubbed Rosie’s back. “You’re gonna miss Mommy, and that’s okay, baby. But I’ll be here, and we’ll do fun things while she’s away. And she will call us every day.”

Rosie sniffled. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Y/n and Billie shared a look. It had been a while since Rosie crawled into their bed—she was getting older, becoming more independent. But tonight? Tonight, she needed them.

“Of course, bug,” Billie murmured, lifting Rosie up and laying her between them.

That night, Billie softly hummed a lullaby, just like she had since Rosie was a baby. It was second nature at this point—the soft, familiar tune drifting through the dark room, soothing her little girl into sleep. Y/n watched as Rosie finally calmed, her little hands tucked under Billie’s hoodie.

But now, Billie was gone. She had already played a few shows, and it had been two weeks since she left for Québec. And ever since then, Rosie had been… off.

At first, y/n thought it was just normal separation sadness. But then she started noticing the signs—Rosie was restless, struggling to fall asleep, waking up in the middle of the night and wandering into y/n’s room with tired, teary eyes.

And then, one night, when y/n walked by Rosie’s room, she found her daughter curled up in bed, her little lip trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

“Baby?” y/n whispered, kneeling beside the bed.

Rosie peeked one eye open, barely holding back her tears.

“What’s wrong, lovebug?”

Rosie hesitated before whispering, “I can’t sleep, Mommy. I can’t… without Mommy’s song.”

And that’s when it hit y/n—Billie’s lullaby. It had been part of Rosie’s nighttime routine for years, and now, without it, she couldn’t settle.

Y/n felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t realized how much Rosie needed it.

She sat on the bed, brushing Rosie’s curls back. “Baby… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Rosie’s tiny hands played with the edge of her blanket. “Didn’t wanna make you sad.”

Y/n’s heart broke.

“Oh, my love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “she would never want you to go without your lullaby, okay?”

Rosie sniffled. “But she’s busy.”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Billie, praying she wasn’t too caught up in something.

It only rang twice before Billie’s tired but warm voice came through.

“Hey, baby.”

Y/n sighed in relief. “Hey, love. Are you busy?”

“Not really, just chilling after soundcheck. Everything okay?”

Y/n turned to Rosie, who was already scooting closer to the phone. “Bug, someone wants to talk to you.”

Rosie hesitated before whispering, “Mommy?”

Billie’s voice immediately softened. “Hi, bug.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Rosie’s little lip quivered as she curled into y/n’s lap, gripping the phone with her small hands.

“I miss you,” she whimpered.

Billie let out a soft breath. “Oh, baby, I miss you so much too.”

Rosie sniffled. “I can’t sleep.”

Y/n heard Billie shift on the other end, as if sitting up straighter. “You can’t?”

Rosie shook her head before realizing Billie couldn’t see her. “No. I need Mommy’s song.”

There was a brief pause, then Billie’s voice came through, gentle and soothing.

“You want me to sing it for you, bug?”

“Please,” Rosie whispered.

And without hesitation, Billie started humming the lullaby. The same tune she had sung to Rosie since she was a baby.

Y/n watched as Rosie’s body slowly relaxed, her tiny fingers loosening their grip on the phone. Her breathing evened out, her eyelashes fluttering as sleep finally took over.

Billie kept humming, even after Rosie had drifted off completely.

Y/n brought the phone back to her ear, keeping her voice low. “Thank you, baby.”

Billie sighed. “I hate being away from her.”

“I know,” y/n whispered. “She loves you so much.”

Billie was quiet for a moment before she said, “I’ll record it. The lullaby. So if she needs it again, she won’t have to wait for me.”

Y/n smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “She’d love that.”

They stayed on the phone for a little while longer, Billie listening to Rosie’s soft, steady breathing.

And even though she was miles away, in a different city, in a different time zone—Billie was still right there where she belonged.

[kalisburnerphone]

Found // Song Mingi

Summary: in the madness of this world I’m glad I found you. When my heart don’t seem to work it’s you I turn to.

Warnings: idol!mingi x idol!oc who’s called Jules by those close to her. She’s older than him by 3 years. Fluff, slight angst. I’ll edit later but for now, don’t ask me what this is, I just wanted to write a little something for my baby given the way he’s been getting treated not only lately but always. I wrote this on 3hrs of sleep so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense. It’s also lowkey a little piece of a Mingi story I’ve been working on but who knows if it’ll ever see the light.

S/N: Happy Carat Day to any fellow carats/caratinys 🩷🩵

It takes a few minutes for Mingi’s mind to register your last text before he’s scrambling off his bed and rushing to the door to pull it open.There you are, the person he can confidently say is the love of his life. Without hesitation he’s pulling you inside and wrapping you up in his arms as soon as the door is closed. It had been months since he’s held you like this, both your schedules keeping you apart even throughout the holidays.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He whispers, face buried in the mess of curls atop your head. Your arms tighten around him, a kiss pressed to his shirtless chest, a silent response to his confession letting him know that the feeling was mutual. You both stay glued to each other a bit longer before he’s bending forward and picking you up, legs wrapped around his waist he’s moving you both to the bed and settling in with you.

“Hey you,” you speak softly not wanting to shatter the little bubble you’re both in. Both his cheeks are cupped in your hands as you look at him, his eyes, soft and shining with unshed tears as he looks at you. If it’s one thing you’ve always admired about your boyfriend was that he wasn’t afraid to show his vulnerability and at first it took some getting used to because it was something you found easy to do. Mingi was patient though, he let you set the pace but made it known that he wasn’t interested in just a casual thing with you. Don’t ask him how but he’d just known from the moment Wooyoung introduced you both that you were his person and he hasn’t had a single doubt about that in the almost two years you’d been together.

There was never much need for conversation in moments like this, you both somehow just always knew when the other was needed and after your last FaceTime call you just knew that something had happened. You hadn’t been online to see what was going on so you’d just assumed it was the boys usual antics that had him sulky but after Woo had spilled what had happened earlier that day, you’d quickly wrapped up your last schedules and hopped on a flight. The others had sent you updates but Hongjoong was the only one that knew you were coming.

“What’s wrong?” you question when he keeps looking at you.

“How much time do we have together?” Time, one of the biggest obstacles in your relationship. You both made it work but sometimes it gets to you both.

“Until the finale in Seoul.” you respond, pulling him closer to you and pressing kisses all over his face before you get to his lips. He’s pulling away much too fast for you and as you chase after his lips it’s his turn to chuckle at how cute you’re being.

“ no unexpected schedules that’s going to pull you away from me?” You shake your head no and it’s all it takes for him to put his lips back where they belong.

You both can’t help the way you melt into each other like a warm embrace on a cold night. You had group shit to deal with but right here in this moment is where you need to be. In the arms of the man who seen every side of you and loves them all unconditionally. With the man who never asks for your love but knows how to take it in the ways that you offer it. Mingi never needs you to tell him that you love him because it showed from the beginning when you had randomly started asking him if he ate and if he slept to sending him food or showing up with it yourself. He had quickly learned that that was just one of the many ways in which you showed your love. It’s the same way in which everyone sees you both as this cold,alpha male/female but only the ones closest to you know just how soft you both are, how much you both even each other out.

Just as your sweet little kisses start heating up there’s a knock on his room door that Mingi has have a mind to ignore had you not spoken up, “that must be Joong, I asked him to order me food cause I had to miss lunch and dinner.”

With a pouty little huff he gets off the bed and goes to the door only to be pushed aside as soon as it opens “I heard Jules is here?” You hear Wooyoung before you see him. He waltz into the room just as you’ve taken your coat off.

“Where’s Joong? And my food?” You question looking past him.

“He’s currently building Legos with Hwa on live so he asked San and I to get it. They’ll come by after though.” He says clearing up the table in the room such as San and Yunho enter with bags of not only food but drinks as well.

“Hey Jules.” They both greet as they enter, leaving your pouty boyfriend leaning against the entrance wall with his arms folded across his chest.

“Yuyu, Sannie” you call back as you make your way to your baby.

“Do they have a you sensor or something?” you laugh softly as you unfold his arms and link your hands together. A kiss to one cheek, then the other and then his nose. “ let them have their fun, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a whisper against his lips as you start pulling him back into the room but he halts pulling you back against him.

“I love you.”

“Forever and Always.”

“Always and Forever.”

[mydearviserra]

In the moonlight

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Aemond Targeryen x Fem! Reader ]

Valentine special💌

Warning: aemond pov, one shot. Fluff

Note: love this song ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Rushed by bad💔

“Dear where are you taking me” you spoke in a flirtatious tone, as you grip his hand. A smile plastered your face as aemond never been this adamant to plan a night special for us.

Valentine’s Day, my favorite time of the year.

Aemond was nerve found of it, he hated all the joyful love in the air. Especially since Viserys plans a feast every year for it. Aemond continued to walk me along the woods path, he’s been awfully quiet I felt his nervousness with his sweaty palms.

Aemond wanted to throw up, his anxiety had been through the roof planning this. He even asked Helaena to help him with ideas. He knew he’s been quite callous during this holy. He felt guilty once he started to note watching couples from afar receiving flowers or sweets. He loved you in his own way no doubt yet when it came to gifting he wasn’t the best at it.

He thought tonight will be different he shall show you what you’ve been longing for. With your hands link together, you swayed your hands back and forth as he leads the way into the woods. The distance sounds of the music from the red keep fades away as you step further down the path then aemond stop walking.

“Dear close your eyes and keep them shut” he spoke with a stern voice as his eyebrows scrunched showing how serious he was. Though his smirk said otherwise. You rolled your eyes playfully, you were beaming in excitement. Once you closed your eyes aemond pulled you along towards the destination. “Okay now open” he spoke softly, your eyes fluttered open you immediately gasped. You covered your mouth as you turn to face aemond

“My love-“ your voice muffled, your eyes began to tear up at the sight of his plan, aemond smile brighter, he cupped his hands over yours and kissed your forehead

“For you my sweet girl..I know I’m not the best at these things but..I wanted to make this special for you..” he mumbled softly, pressing another kiss on my forehead before he wiped away my tears

Aemond cleared away the bushes that circled the trees, laying out lanterns with blankets covering the covering the perimeter. With cushions for them to lay in, he even bought new baskets with their meal and dessert. He spent all morning for himself to prepare the dinner, even though the cooks we’re going ballistic that a prince was doing it himself aemond didnt care he wanted this to be by the heart. Pouring his sweat and love into every detail of their picnic. Long with the flowers on one of the coushions he place a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and petals scattered around the lanterns.

“Do you like it..?” He whispered as he kept wiping away my tears, he pulled away to wrap his arms around your waist, his thumb rubbing lazily around your waist you then let go of your cheeks to cup his, bringing his face to yours, your lips trembling as you spoke

“Aemond I love it- I love it so much..you did all of this?”

“Of course, everything was done by me” he smirked a bit as he felt his ego rise a bit, “happy valentines my sweet darling of a wife” he teased a bit before he crushed his lips onto yours  

[occasional-hobbyist]

Thats how i imagine Saga's gallery of photos looks like

[cosmiicfairy]

.

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

Part 2

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

[tojisglazer]

🌟Random JJK Men Headcanons!🌟

Creds to @cafekitsune for all dividers!!

Masterlist

NSFW CONTENT UP AHEAD!!

Includes: Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong (Maybe more characters in the future! Recommend some n’ they might be up here next!…just no minors pls unless it’s for fluff 😭😭)

Not rlly proofread so I’m sorry for any mistakes!!!

Kento Nanami

• Would definitely be a whiner, especially when it’s time to get up in the morning, “Mmm..darlinggg…”, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. “Just five more minutes.. pretty please…?”, how could you possibly deny your sweet husband?

• Kento will always help you with your hair if needed and is always good at it (You don’t know this, but every night while your sleeping, he watches YouTube videos on how to style curly hair in cute styles he knows you’d like).

• Rarely ever cries to you since he doesn’t want you stressing out over him. When he did cry, however, you’d be sure to have him lay on your lap and softly coo at him until he falls asleep.

• Will be the cook of the house. Sure, he’d let you cook a few meals from time to time, but he would prefer cooking for you instead of vice versa. (His food ALWAYS ended up delicious)

“Kento let me cook for tonight please! You cook all the timeee!” You whine as you’re being dragged back to the living room by your husband.

“Please, my love, sit down. I want you to relax this evening.” Kento kisses you on your forehead as he sits you down on the couch. “Dinner will be ready in a few, okay?”

“Tomorrow night Kento, I will be cooking.” You say with a pout on your face, and Kento can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

• When one of your favorite songs of all time play on the car radio, you’d scream the lyrics, eventually luring Kento in to sing with you. He probably wouldn’t know half of the songs you listen to, but he’ll still sing with you if it makes you happy.

• Never calls you by your name unless something serious is going on. Will always call you baby, sweetheart, darling, love, or honey. (Ex. “Love, if you don’t mind, could you get me a sandwich from that bakery I always go to?” “Honey, you’re always so good to me, I love you so much.”)

• Speaking of which, he loves it when you call him sweetie, Ken, or even if you refer to him as “your man”. He gets hard just thinking about it.

• He’s definitely a little pervert. Whenever you’re out the house for a lengthened period of time, he’d use the opportunity to steal multiple pairs a pair of your used underwear and jack off to it in your shared bedroom, making sure to leave his cum right in the center of your panties. Little did he know, however, the cameras in your house caught every second of it.

• Kento would absolutely love to be dominated by you. Just the thought of you riding him and fucking him with your strap until there’s tears rolling down his face just does something to him.

• He’ll beg and whimper to you at any point during sex, the way he looks so pathetic as soon as you have him in your grasp is something indescribable and makes you want more. “Mmh—babyyyy—haah—oh goddd—I’m gonna cumm-”

“L-Love please—please let me—”

“Ooohhhh—can’t hold it b-back, d-darling-“

• We all know this man is an absolute king when it comes to aftercare. Giving you a minute to rest, he goes to your kitchen and brews up some chamomile tea. Afterwards, he runs a warm bath with some rose petals which he knows you like.

Toji Fushiguro

• Isn’t very good at communication due to being raised in nothing but an abusive household. Knowing this, you help him every step of the way, and he can’t help but look at you with hearts in his eyes.

•He’ll hit you with a dad joke at the most random and unexpected times. You could both be showering together and he’d be talking about some, “What do you call two ducks and a cow? Quackers and milk.” They’ll always make you laugh, though.

• Expect Toji to tease you 24/7. For example, if you’re wearing a bonnet, best believe he’s snatching it off as soon as you walk past him, laughing and holding it over his head as you’re trying to take it back.

-SWOOP- All you feel now is a breeze on the top of your head instead of your trusty bonnet. “Toji I swear to God if you don’t stop snatching my bonnet there’s gonna be problems.” You turn to face the man who now has your leopard print bonnet in his big hand.

“Oh please girl,” you hated the way he mirrored your sass. (You didn’t) “Y’r not gonna do a thing to me.” He chuckled, now putting your bonnet on his head.

“Tojiiiii you’re gonna stretch it outtt!” You groaned and hit his chest, yet Toji doesn’t pay you any mind.

“Babyyyyy,” He mimics you, “I’ll give it back under one condition.”

You sigh, knowing the exact condition.

“Jus’ gimmie a kiss, and the bonnet is all yours.”

• His usual go-to of pet names would include: Doll, babe, baby, ma, brat, and princess (Ex. “Babe, you wanna come to this new restaurant with me? Heard they had some good steak.” “Quit bein’ such a little brat.” “Y’look so damn pretty, doll.”).

• Toji brags to his best friend Shiu all about you, much to his annoyance. He boasts about how pretty you are, how smart you are, how big your ass is, and how lucky he is to have you.

• He absolutely loves the way you treat his five year old son, Megumi. You treat the boy as if he’s your own, and Toji can’t help but smile until his cheeks are sore, and even then he wouldn’t stop smiling.

• This man cannot cook for shit. The only cooking he’s doing would be making toast with butter or ordering takeout.

• He’d definitely eat you out of a house and home and take a fat nap afterwards, though. His portions of food would be enough to feed three people. Living with him, you’d have to go food shopping every two days.

• Though he’d never admit it, Toji loves hugs and how you smother him will all kinds of affection. He’d act all annoyed and tough and claim he doesn’t like it, but deep down you both know he eats it up every single time.

•Expect to see dirty gym socks and other clothing attire scattered across your shared bedroom. You’ll tell him to stop acting like a pig and clean up after himself, but it’ll go in one ear and straight out the other.

• Toji has such a praise kink. Whenever the words “good boy” or any other compliment leaves your pretty lips, it’s like he can’t think for himself anymore.

• He loves, loves, loves, having sex in missionary position with you. He loves being so close to you, being able to smell your special scent, and whisper in your ears, “Look how—fuck—look how messy this pretty pussy is for me, ma.”

“Y’r taking my cock so fucking well, baby.”

“Love ya so fucking much, y’know that? Hah—shit—Yeah, y’know that.” while he’s absolutely demolishing your insides. Don’t get him wrong, the man loves tons of sex positions, but missionary will always be his first pick.

• He may not look the part, but Toji whimpers and moans like crazy when he’s about to cum. “Hnghh—ooohhhh—fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—“

• When he cums, expect a bunch of it. It’s so much that it leaks out of your throbbing cunt and onto the light pink bed sheets, leaving a puddle.

• His kind of aftercare would be licking your clit, ridding it of any leftover cum. Afterwards, he’d give you a water bottle and massage any aching body parts. He’d then order some of your favorite take out and you’d both eat it together while watching some corny dad show he found on tv.

Shiu Kong

• You have this man wrapped around your pretty finger. He’ll spoil you rotten. He couldn’t possibly think of saying no to his princess, especially when he has the money to get you whatever you want.

• You will never find yourself in a position where you need to lift a finger whenever he’s around. You’ll get nothing but royalty treatment.

• Shiu absolutely hates it whenever you’re around Toji. He knows Toji wouldn’t do anything, but seeing you even look at him gets on his nerves.

• You wake up to the smell of some freshly cooked bacon and eggs (or whatever else you’d favor) due to him. His day will literally be ruined if he isn’t able to cook for you.

• Whenever you want your hair and nails done, Shiu will give you the money, plus a little extra so you can get yourself something nice.

• Your car will definitely end up smelling like his cigarettes mixed with his signature cologne after a while.

• You practically beg him to teach you a few words in Korean (mostly curse words) since you claims he sounds so sexy speaking it.

“Come onnnnnn,” you whine, following Shiu around the house as he carries the clean laundry in a basket. “Just one word, please?”

“I’ve already said a word, princess, don’t you remember that?” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you.

“Okay—well—one more!” you pout and cross your arms.

“Don’t do that,” Shiu chuckles, then sighs contently. “How could I ever say no to you, beautiful?” Your eyes light up and a big smile is displayed on your face.

“사랑해요, 예쁜.” He whispers in your ear and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“What’s that mean??”

“It means I love you, pretty.” He cups your face with two hands. You can’t help but giggle and leave a kiss on his lips.

• Like Kento, Shiu wouldn’t call you by your name at all. He hasn’t called you by your name ever since you two first met. Sometimes you wonder if he even knows your name (he does). The names he calls you are: Doll face, love, princess, pretty, beautiful, bunny (Ex. “Did y’want this necklace, princess?” “Let’s go out to eat, doll face.” “You can take it, bunny, can’t you? Yes you can.”).

• Every morning, his head is found in between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit. Every time you try to push his head away due to overstimulation, he says “Come on, pretty, m’just eating some breakfast, gimmie a minute.”

• This man is extremely weak for head. His breathy moans only get louder as he’s getting closer and closer to his climax. “Ohh f-fuck—my love—s-s’close—”

“Y’r sucking s’good pretty—mmh—so fucking good-”

• He’ll immediately return the favor by stuffing your sobbing pussy with his fat cock, thrusting in an unforgiving pace. “H-Hah—you h-hear that? Y’hear how she’s—shit—purring for me l-love?”

“I know you can take it bunny, I know you can—ooohhh ffffuckkkk-”

• After he’s done with you, he kisses your forehead and wipes you down with a warm damp towel. He then massages your plump thighs and kisses your face a bit more. When you’re finally asleep, he goes out to your balcony for a quick smoke.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

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[gothgoblinbabe]

Nothing Worth Saying Aloud

Logan Howlett x fem reader

A/N: This one is short n' sweet! Inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove which I had first heard because I read this one shot that used that song as inspiration! Theirs is much better I'll be real but I had this festering in my brain for too long every time I'd play that song on repeat

Summary: Misunderstanding and miscommunication makes for a terrible combination that leaves you feeling like you've had your heart ripped from your chest

Warnings: Angsty as all hell, a lil' bit of fluff at the end, that's really it!

Word Count: 2K

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

You’d gone through a couple break ups in your life, a handful of failed situation-ships that ended awkwardly - even a long term relationship or two - but all the heartbreak you’d experienced couldn’t compare to the chest-crushing agony you experienced now.

The terrible moment of facing the music; accepting what couldn’t be, even if you wanted it more than anything.

Logan was not into you and he was never going to be.

You had to confront that when you’d gone down the stairs of the mansion one night to get a glass of water, almost certain you were the only person awake. That was until you’d stopped short in the hallway, seeing Logan and Jean standing with their backs to you. You couldn’t hear their conversation and didn’t think anything of it until you watched his arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug.

Your stomach sank. You really should have known.

The way he talks to her, looks at her, is always there to help her; it must have been obvious to anyone but you. You’d been friends for so long that you were almost dumbfounded that you never realized, probably too blinded by your own rose colored glasses.

You turned on your heel immediately, climbing the stairs to hide in your bedroom. Your chest felt heavy and your skin felt like it was on fire. You never ended up sleeping that night, too sick to think of anything else but Jean and Logan.

That was maybe two weeks ago now and you’d avoided Logan every day since as best you could. You’d gone from being nearly inseparable to speaking only when you had to. He’d try his best to get you to talk to him about anything at all but you only gave him one word answers. He even tried to keep you after training one day, gently having a hold on your bicep.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” He asked bluntly. He tried to look you in the eyes but they were nearly glued to the metal floor of the basement corridor, your hair falling in your face.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Logan, really,” you were able to mutter out, somehow keeping your voice from cracking. Before he could interrogate you further, you shrugged yourself out of his soft grip and speed-walked to the elevator, tears flowing the second you turned away from him.

You were not fine. Your eyes were always red and puffy from crying yourself to sleep and everyone could tell something was off. 

Ororo even stopped you in the hallway outside your bedroom one night, begging you to tell her what was wrong and what she could do to help.

“It’s nothing, I - “ you had started to dismiss her, but she was having none of it. 

“Stop with that! Enough! You need to tell me what’s up or I’m gonna have to force it out of you somehow and you know I do not wanna do that. Now tell me.”

You sighed, never picking your gaze up from the floor. 

“Come here, I don’t want anyone to hear me,” you beckoned her into your room.

She sat by your side at the edge of the bed as you confessed what you had seen and how badly it had torn you apart, rubbing your back gently when you choked out a sob.

“Honey,” she cooed, pushing some hair from your face and wiping a tear away, “I think you need to talk to him. This is gonna eat you up inside if you don’t and I think maybe it could’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, ‘ro. I can’t even look at him without feeling like I’m gonna burst into tears,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the collar of your t-shirt.

“Think about it. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you really should. And if it was what it looked like, sweetheart, this is not the end of the world,” she reminded you.

“It sure does feel like it,” you joked, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“I know,” she sighed, patting your back gently, “talk to him.”

You nodded and she left the room, reminding you to come find her if you needed anything at all.

You thought her words over and ultimately still hid in your room the next day, skipping training to rot in bed in sweatpants and a tank top. The thought of having to confess to Logan that you were really in love with him was far too paralyzing. It almost made you sick If you thought about it too long.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep shuffling sad songs on repeat and yet you did, keeping your CD player at a low volume so you wouldn’t bother anyone and they wouldn’t bother you. Your hair was a mess and you were glad that at the very least, you’d had enough energy to shower that morning after three days of not doing so. You held your knees to your chest while laying on your side, burying your face into your pillow to muffle your wailing sobs. 

Logan was downstairs at the same time, making his way towards the stairs, only to run into Scott.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan spoke, stopping him with a hand on his upper arm.

Even through Scott’s glasses, Logan could tell he was glaring suspiciously.

“About what? Why?”

Logan said your name, looking around to be sure they were alone in the hallway.

Scott’s expression softened and he leaned against the wall, waiting for him to explain.

“Do you know what’s up with her? She won’t talk to me, she hasn’t in two weeks. She won’t even look at me. Has she said anything to you?” Logan spewed out, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous tic. 

“No, your girlfriend didn’t mention anything,” he teased, shaking his head, “but hey, just talk to her. You’ve been close for a while now, you just have to confront her.”

“She’s not my - okay, whatever. Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to her. Maybe she’s in her room,” Logan sighed.

“She’s always in her room lately. If there’s anyone that can pull her out of it, it would be you.”

He quickly thanked Scott and finally reached the stairs. He had been walking through the hall, finding your bedroom door and stopping when he heard a noise he couldn’t quite make out. He heard you sniffle and his heart dropped.

You were crying.

He tried to give you your space, work through whatever it was that was bothering you, but it broke him to see you the way you were and his prodding didn’t seem to help. Still, he didn’t know how much longer he could let you dodge him in the halls or live with the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He had planned to talk to you that day, but you rarely came out of your room now.

So, he laid a hand on your doorknob, turning it slowly. He would’ve knocked - he always did - but every time he had recently, you laid silent and pretended not to be in the room. He always knew you were, recognizing the smell of your perfume behind the door. 

The door cracked open a few inches and he saw you, curled in a ball in your bed with your face in your pillow. Your shoulders moved up and down as you sobbed, gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

There’s no way Logan could leave you like this. He slid into the room and closed the door gently, but you could hear the click of the knob over your music.

Your head shot up and you saw Logan standing with his back to your door, an almost devastated look on his face.

“Oh god, Logan, please, don’t - “ you choked out, turning your face so he couldn’t see you and waving him away. Out of everyone you wanted to see right now, he was at the bottom of the list because this was humiliating. 

He’d seen your bloodshot eyes and pink nose, your cheeks wet with tears. There was no way you could tell him you weren’t crying.

“You have to talk to me. Please, what did I do?”

The last thing you wanted was for him to think it was all his fault. It wasn’t, really. He didn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose; He couldn’t have known it would upset you in the slightest or that you were even in the hallway that night. 

“Nothing, Logan, please, just go away - “ you begged, still facing away with your face buried in your hands.

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s going on,” he said firmly, “you won’t even look at me. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you.”

You still had your face buried in your hands when you felt the bed dip as he came to sit beside you.

“I miss you, you know. You won’t train with me anymore, you won’t come out with me, you won't talk to me. Please, I don’t know what to apologize for if you don’t tell me.”

His voice so close to you made your heart ache. You wanted to just hug him, tell him you missed him too, but you sat paralyzed. He really wasn’t going anywhere until you said something.

You removed your hands from your face, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. You took a long inhale, closing your eyes and trying not to let your voice crack.

“It’s nothing worth me saying aloud,” you muttered, gnawing on your bottom lip. You felt like you needed to, though - like a lump in your throat that you couldn’t cough up. 

“Please,” Logan’s voice was quiet, his hand arm coming to rest around your waist.

You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face in an attempt not to cry even harder when he touched you. You had wanted him to for so long, but not like this. 

You inhaled sharply, standing up as you did so to pace around your room. You couldn’t sit still with his hand on you.

“I - “, you tried to speak, the words getting lodged in your throat, “ it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, it’s not that.”

“Then, what? Tell me. You know I’d do anything to help.”

He would, and that’s what made it all hurt so much worse; how sweet he could be to you. You reminded yourself that he was also probably like that with Jean and you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the thought. 

“It’s so stupid, Logan, really - “

“Pretty girl, it’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”

Pretty girl. He probably called her that too.

Fuck, you couldn’t get it out of your head no matter how bad you wished you could.

“Ugh,” you groaned, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe it would be easier to spit it out when you weren’t looking at him. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to get it all out in one go.

“A couple weeks ago, I went downstairs in the middle of the night and I saw you and Jean.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but Logan’s eyebrows were furrowed, completely lost on what exactly it was that you saw.

“And it’s so fucking stupid, I know, but I - “, you choked back a sob, “fuck. Logan, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m in love with you, I don’t know how to handle it, not when I know nothings ever gonna happen.”

When you didn’t hear a response, you dreaded the moment you finally tore your eyes from your ceiling. Logan was still in the same spot at the edge of the bed, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Sweet heart - “, he began, but it only hurt you more to hear him call you stuff like that.

“Logan, please, I know, just - I don’t want it to be a big deal and you don’t have to give me the rejection speech, trust me.”

“Are you gonna let me explain?” His tone was mildly frustrated, though he was still clearly worried about you.

You sighed, hands on your hips as you stood almost completely across the room. He got up to meet you where you were. He wanted to put his hands on your shoulders but he could tell you didn’t want to be touched.

“Explain what?” You muttered, gaze glued to the floor when he stood in front of you.

“There’s nothing going on between Jean and I.”

Seeing that your expression never changed, he continued.

“I think I know what you saw. I hugged Jean, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

You swallowed hard, dreading any details he wanted to spill. You still didn’t believe that there was nothing, convinced he was lying to save your feelings. You nodded anyway, still looking at the floor.

“I gave Jean a hug because her and Scott got into a fight. She said she fucked up and wanted my advice, I hugged her and that was all. Honey, I’m telling you, nothings going on.”

You were nearly turning pink at the realization that he was being truthful. 

“And another thing,” he began again, tentatively pulling your hands from your hips so he could hold them in his, “you think I don’t love you?”

You finally met his gaze then and his heart broke when he saw your watery eyes. He brought a hand up to wipe your tears, leaving it there to cup your face while his other still held your hand. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you, too. I don’t feel that way about Jean at all. I thought it was obvious, but I guess neither of us have the greatest communication skills, huh?” He laughed a little, nervously waiting for you to finally say something.

You were still soaking in his words, first about Jean and then about you. 

“Really?” You squeaked, unable to say anything more.

“Really, baby,” he said sweetly, continuing to wipe away your tears.

You sniffled and leaned into his touch, happy to just be near him again.

“I missed you too, you know. I miss everything about you. I just couldn’t look at you when I thought - I don’t know, when I thought you couldn’t love me like that. Oh god, I’m so stupid, Logan, I’m so sorry - “ you began to apologize and he cut you off, shaking his head.

“None of that, c’mere,” he pulled you into him gently, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to hug you. 

You smiled into his t-shirt. You missed the smell of his cologne, the warmth of him, the way he called you sweet names. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, standing on your toes to do so.

“I love you, Princess. I’m so glad I get to say it,” he mumbled into your hair, neither one of you letting go of the other, “and I’m a dumbass for not saying something sooner and letting you think all that.”

“No, I’m a dumbass because I should’ve said something sooner instead of assuming. I was just terrified, I guess.”

“No more being terrified, right?” He pulled away a little to look in your eyes.

You nodded, a smile on your face for the first time in weeks. You both stood there in the middle of your bedroom, frozen in an embrace with your eyes locked on each other.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his hand rubbing up and down your back reassuringly, “you can say no if it’s too soon -“

You leaned up to press your lips to his, not wanting to waste any more time than you already have. He kind of grunted in surprise, relaxing into your touch when you ran your fingers through his hair at the back of his head. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were so soft and he was so gentle with how he held you that your knees could’ve buckled. He pulled away reluctantly after a few seconds, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t wanna ruin anything,” he explained, tucking your hair behind your ear, “you know, just being with you. I would’ve swallowed it all down to be just your friend if it meant I wouldn't lose you.”

You brought both of your hands to cup his face, scratching lightly at his mutton chops, “Really?”

He nodded, kissing your forehead, your cheek and your lips again. It was sickeningly sweet, making you giggle into the kiss.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothin’. Just really happy.”

“Me too, pretty girl. Hey, you owe me a couple of movie nights, by the way.”

“Race you to the TV?”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

A/N: ik this ones pretty short but it was rotting in my google docs so here u go <3 pls like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[starconchs]

𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you. genre: fluff! some angst but happy ending, friends to lovers notes: inspired by the song "haunt me (x3)" by teen suicide, gojo is awful at realizing his own feelings and dealing with them wc: ~4.8k

the day that you leave tokyo jujutsu tech is a dull one.

gojo think this must've been months in the planning, especially considering the fact that you're standing with nothing but a backpack slung over your shoulder with the rest of your belongings nowhere to be seen.

(he later learns that they had already been moved to your new apartment, and nanami and shoko had helped you move out over the course of a month.)

he also discovers that he's the only one that hasn't been informed of your departure, especially since he seems to be the only one taken by surprise as you stand by the entrance and say your goodbyes. he wonders if it's his fault for taking so many missions after geto's defection, and he feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he realizes that he's been so distracted that he once again couldn't see something happening with one of his friends.

and now you're leaving.

"you have to promise to visit," shoko says, engulfing you in a tight hug. gojo feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and he can't help but feel panicked when you give shoko a soft grin.

"i'll certainly do my best," you respond, reaching over to tug on her hair. she sighs in return, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you gently as she stares you down.

"answer your phone, ok? you can't ignore my texts now that you're leaving."

a quiet laugh leaves your lips at her words, and you nod reassuringly before giving her a loud smooch on the cheek and moving down the line. gojo watches you closely as you say your goodbye to yaga, the older man turning away from you to brush a fake tear away from his eye. he presses a soft, floppy doll into your hands before you move away from him, and gojo can see the distinct shine in your eye that lets him know that you're holding tears at bay.

he looks down at the ground when he realizes that he's the only one left for you to say goodbye to, and he can't help the way he tenses up when he sees your shoes come to a stop in front of him. there's a moment of silence during which gojo can feel everyone's eyes on him, and he begrudgingly looks up at you and removes his sunglasses.

if this is the last time he's seeing you, he's going to make sure he remembers every little detail.

there's a sharp intake of breath as you steadily meet his gaze, and you find yourself rendered speechless at the sight of his eyes. gojo can hear shoko cough lightly, and he steels himself before giving you a forced smile.

"so you're leaving," he whispers, his eyes widening slightly when he realizes what he's just said. you seem to be caught off guard as well, eyebrows raising in surprise before giving him a nod. he takes a moment to breathe, aware of shoko's lingering gaze as the two of you face each other. "oh. i didn't know."

"yeah," you breathe, rubbing your arm as you look away from him. "i hadn't gotten the chance to tell you. it seems like you're always off on a mission these days."

"you could've texted," gojo attempts to say jokingly, wincing when his words fall flat. you laugh lightly at his words, recognizing the teasing undertone even if the delivery had been less than perfect. you always seem to understand gojo, regardless of whether or not he wants you to.

"we both know you never look at your phone," you tease back, giving him a pretty smile that he hasn't seen in a while. he chuckles breathlessly at your jab, and he nods his agreement before glancing at shoko.

"neither do you," he shoots back, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile when you follow his line of sight. "you gotta get better at that. can't risk pissing shoko off."

the space between the two of you is filled with uncertain laughter at gojo's remark, and you take a moment to study gojo before taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. he stumbles back a step or two at your sudden action, tensing up when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

"i'll miss you," you whisper, your breath warm against his neck. he tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise up along the smooth expanse of his neck, too focused on wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him when he feels you start to step away.

gojo knows that everyone else is watching the two of you, he can feel shoko's soft gaze and yaga's sad look as he does his best to ignore them and bury his face into your hair. there's an intense urge to ask you to stay building up inside of him, and he clamps his lips shut tightly in order to keep himself from blurting out his plea. the two of you remain in each other's arms before you finally take a deep breath and step away, giving gojo a watery smile.

"i'll miss you, satoru," you whisper, looking away and blinking back your tears. "i'll see you later, yeah?"

gojo nods dumbly as you finally walk away, giving everyone one last wave before slipping into the car that's been waiting for you this entire time. it isn't until he sees it disappear from view that gojo realizes that he didn't tell you that he would miss you too.

he wastes no time in slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, clearing his throat quietly before turning and making his way back inside the building.

a week later, gojo hears that nanami has left jujutsu tech as well, and he can't help but wonder if he'll ever see either of you again.

gojo likes to think that he's matured, even though shoko might say otherwise because she's certain she's right. and also to piss him off.

but the truth is, he's no longer the same spunky, reckless teenager he was before everything went wrong in his life. he knows how to sort of work through his emotions now— in a way he thinks is healthy, he might add, but he can't help but find himself frozen in this very moment. there's a weird ache in his heart, one that he silently notes seems to be brought on by the flurry of emotions he's feeling in that very instant.

he wonders if they're visible on his face. they are.

gojo satoru is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in japan, maybe even in the world, and yet he feels like he's been reduced to almost nothing when a familiar face slides into the seat across from him.

five years is clearly not long enough to forget you, gojo realizes, physically wincing at the way his heart seems to race at the sight of you. his eyes meet yours, and he holds steady eye contact with you for a few seconds before ducking his head and quietly excusing himself from the table.

he takes a deep breath to attempt and soothe his rattled nerves as he takes a seat at the bar, squishing himself into the corner so that he's not visible from your table. he orders a soda from the bartender, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets in return before he ambles off to prepare the drink.

gojo has barely taken a sip of the soda before shoko is crashing into his side, settling onto the barstool next to him and digging her elbow into his side as she calls her order out to the bartender. neither of them speak until shoko gets her drink, and she immediately lifts it to her lips and takes a big sip that makes gojo shudder with disgust.

"surprise," shoko says dryly, glancing at gojo as he spares a look in your direction. he notices three extra people at the table, and he lets his shoulders drop in relief when he sees familiar heads of blond, white, and brunette.

"yeah, quite the surprise," gojo huffs, taking another sip of his soda. he stares at shoko until she turns to face him, a mildly displeased look on her face as she takes in his furrowed eyebrows. "i didn't know you still kept in contact with them."

"i didn't know you didn't still keep in contact with them," shoko shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she studies gojo's conflicted expression. she continues before he can gather his thoughts, earning a loud sigh as she speaks. "you kept in contact with nanami just fine. in fact, all he does is complain about how you never leave him alone."

gojo swallows harshly at shoko's words, and he thinks long and hard before deciding to remain silent for the time being. he can't find it in himself to admit that the thought of reaching out to you hurts him more than he cares to admit. you had left the jujutsu world, the one part of your life that included him, behind. even if he wanted to, gojo doesn't think he can find the words to express how he's feeling.

"switch seats with me when we get back to the table," gojo says suddenly, pausing to slurp up the rest of his drink. shoko glares at him when he sucks on nothing but air, the obnoxious sound causing her to reach over and flick him in the cheek. gojo grins widely when she hits nothing but air, his infinity protecting him from shoko's incredibly violent wrath.

"no," she says, getting off her barstool and picking up her drink. gojo realizes too late that she's heading back to the table, and he scrambles after her in an attempt to get there before her. his attempts are fruitless, and he finds himself awkwardly standing behind shoko's seat as she takes her place two chairs down from you.

gojo acts normal when everyone turns to glance at him, and he stiffly makes his way back to his own seat, avoiding your questioning gaze as he sits down. it takes a second for the table to break out into chatter again, and gojo doesn't hesitate before turning to the seat next to him and striking up a conversation with utahime. he notices mei mei grab your attention out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but sigh in relief as he focuses on utahime once again, disregarding her annoyed look.

gojo is certain that ignoring you is much easier than dealing with whatever the hell is causing him to feel like he's dying inside.

the days that follow the dinner at the restaurant are unnervingly quiet, and gojo finds himself sitting on his couch and wondering if he should reach out to you.

there are no missions to take at the moment, and gojo is left with nothing to do but stare at his phone and wait for a message that never comes. megumi takes note of his sullen behavior, and although a part of him is curious about gojo's sudden attitude change, he doesn't think he actually cares enough to ask the white-haired sorcerer about what seems to be bothering him.

a few more days pass before gojo ultimately decides that reaching out to you would do more harm than good, especially with the way he completely ignored you at dinner. he's given no time to even think about changing his mind, and the very next day, he's being sent out on yet another mission.

he eventually falls into the same monotonous routine his life had prior to his run-in with you, and he wonders what would've changed if he had decided to take the chance and reach out the day after seeing you. there's a dull ache in his chest that seems to linger even after he makes his decision, and it only seems to get worse whenever shoko deigns to share updates about you with him.

the two of them know that gojo is more than grateful for her updates, even if he refuses to ask about you outright. he's certain that if he were to fully give into his curiosity that his heart would feel like it's giving out on him, and not even shoko's displeased looks are enough for him to get over himself and just ask you directly. he's even stopped pestering nanami, too afraid that he would give in and ask him questions about you.

it isn't until a long time passes (a year and a half; he's kept count) that gojo thinks he's finally getting over it— getting over you. his heart finally starts feeling lighter and breathing becomes a little bit easier and he can't help but think about how silly he was being, staying hung up for so long on somebody who probably never even thought twice about him.

they're small improvements but they're still improvements, and gojo reminds himself of that even as he walks down the busy streets of tokyo. he breathes out a sigh of relief as he slips into the local pharmacy, the cool air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the sticky heat outside.

he mumbles to himself as he moves through the aisles, scanning the shelves as he looks for children's allergy medication. the sudden weather changes had affected megumi and tsumiki in a way none of them had expected, and gojo was left alone to deal with their pitiful sniffles and soft complaints.

"allergy meds," he whispers, reaching out to grab a box only to put it back when it's not the one he's looking for. "there's so much cough syrup, where's the aller—"

"gojo?"

so maybe he hasn't improved, gojo thinks to himself as he freezes up at the sound of your voice. he holds his breath as you approach him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your sleeve brush against his.

six and a half years isn't enough to forget about you either, it seems.

"it's been a while, huh?" you ask, giving him a soft glance before looking at the shelves in front of you. there's a light hum that escapes your lips as you bend down to grab something before straightening up and holding out a box in your hand. "allergy meds, right?"

gojo nods silently as he takes the box from you, quickly scanning the text on it to make sure it was the right brand. there's an awkward silence as he thinks about what to say, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind when you turn your face away from him.

"it's not for me!"

a noise that gojo thinks might be a giggle leaves your lips at his proclamation, and he mentally kicks himself for starting up a conversation with you.

"it's for megumi, right?" you ask softly, unaware of the way gojo's eyes widen at your question. "that zenin kid you took in?"

when you notice gojo's shocked look, you hastily ass onto your statement. "shoko told me about him when i asked about you."

'shoko told me about him when i asked about you.'

gojo thinks he feels his head spin when he hears those words come out of your mind. he does his best to remain calm, reaching out a hand to lean against the shelf comfortably and wincing when he instead knocks down a row of the cough syrups he had been studying earlier.

"uh, fushiguro, actually," he mutters, doing his best to focus on straightening out the products he knocked down. "his dad took his wife's last name or something like that. but yeah, the medicine is for him and his sister."

he finds himself shuffling awkwardly as you look down at your watch, eyes widening slightly when you take note of the time. he watches as you turn to face the shelf behind you, quickly plucking some eye drops off the shelf before turning back to him.

"i have to go, i'm running late for a meeting," you say sheepishly, giving gojo a soft smile. he gives you a half-smile in return, accompanied by a lazy wave as he waits for you to leave. you stand in front of him for a second, hesitating slightly before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. gojo tenses up in your embrace, his breath catching in his throat and hands freezing mid-air before he hesitantly places them on your back. you pull back slightly after a few seconds, looking up at gojo with a stare that makes his heart feel like it's about to beat out of his chest before you address him once more. "it was nice to see you. we should catch up sometime."

you're gone with a smile and a wave, quickly paying for your eye drops before darting out the door. gojo remains in his spot for five minutes after your departure, only moving when he sees the amused look the cashier seems to be giving him. he doesn't speak as he pays for the allergy medication, and he hastily makes his exit back into the stifling heat. he starts walking down the street as he tucks his change into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when his fingers brush against a piece of paper that hadn't bee there before.

there's an annoyed grumble from a passerby when gojo suddenly stops in the middle of the street, his fingers clutching onto the paper that contains very familiar handwriting.

'can't wait to see you again! :)'

the line is followed by what he assumes to be your phone number, and gojo can't help but wonder when you had the chance to write the note. he begins moving down the street again, his steps sluggish as he hesitates near a trash can. before he can think any harder, he lets the paper flutter into wastebasket, only pausing for a brief second before moving away.

not seeing you over the past year and a half made his heart feel lighter, yet all it took was a five minute interaction with you to make his heart feel worse than it ever had before.

the world loves to play cruel jokes on him, gojo thinks.

the past two years have been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, and he's had no time to stop and think about you while dealing with geto, sukuna, and the emergence of the cursed spirit that calls itself mahito.

if he really thinks about it, he's had no time to sit and rest. from geto's attack to yuuta's training to megumi's missions to yuuji's interesting choice that led to him eating sukuna's finger, he's had no time to sit and truly enjoy the little things life has to offer.

(not that he's ever had the time. the life of a special grade sorcerer is a busy one, but gojo can't deny that things weren't always as complicated as they have been the last couple of years.)

so when yaga tells him that nanami is returning to jujutsu tech, gojo thinks that it's the perfect time to let yuuji learn from someone other than him while he takes care of some unfinished business. what he doesn't expect however, is to see you standing next to nanami, a pretty smile on your face as you greet yaga with a hug.

ten years. ten years and somehow, you still manage to make gojo feel the same way he did way back then.

there's something wrong with him, he thinks, especially because it's starting to seem like he's cursed to always somehow coexist with those he cares about without ever fully being a part of their lives. there's no way he can turn around and pretend he never saw you, not with the way yaga is already yelling at him to go over and greet the returners.

gojo wonders why this happens every time he sees you. he doesn't know how to label what he feels whenever you pop up in his life, and it isn't until you give him a hesitant greeting— your tone shy and awkward after receiving nothing but radio silence from him— that gojo thinks he might finally know what it is he feels for you.

and when the thought of him being in love with you crosses his mind and makes him feel like he wants to die, all he can do is tamp down his swirling emotions with a goofy grin aimed at nanami.

"nanami! what a pleasure to see you here," gojo sings, immediately pulling the blond man into a reluctant hug. he gives you a polite nod in greeting, and he can't help the way his heart sinks when you nod in response and look away.

"likewise," nanami replies, his tone strained as he pulls away from gojo. he fixes his shirt as he steps over to you, and the two of you stand silently as you wait for yaga to speak.

"introduce them to yuuji," yaga says, turning around and heading back towards his office. "and don't cause trouble. i mean it, satoru."

gojo giggles at yaga's words before clapping his hands and motioning for the two of you to follow after him, leading you down a series of hallways before you come to a stop in front of an empty room.

"yuuji! there's someone i'd like you to meet!"

you're taken slightly aback when your eyes meet bright, brown ones, and you can't help but stare as a teenage boy with pink hair comes to a stop in front of you and nanami.

"this is nanami kento!" gojo all but yells, once again slinging his arm around nanami's shoulders and swaying him back and forth. the boy, yuuji, looks at nanami curiously, his eyes focused on the glasses perched on his nose. he has no time to speak before gojo is introducing you as well, his voice softer than it had been when introducing nanami. yuuji's eyes sparkle as they shift to you, and all of a sudden he's breaking out into a boyish smile that only serves to remind you just how young he really is.

"woah! i didn't think you were actually real!" he proclaims, earning a strained laugh from gojo. "when gojo mentioned you he said you were really p—"

the rest of his words are muffled, gojo's hands clamped tightly against his mouth as he pulls yuuji away from you. out of the corner of your eye, you can see nanami staring at you, and you only give him a shrug in return as gojo pats yuuji's head and lets him go.

"you'll be following them around on missions," gojo finally explains, pushing yuuji towards you and nanami. "they're both grade 1 sorcerers so don't worry, you'll be safe! now if you'll excuse me, i have to go."

gojo's out of the room before either of you can breathe out a goodbye, and you tense for a second before excusing yourself and following after him. he hasn't gotten terribly far, but his long legs give him the advantage of staying ahead of you even as you start jogging lightly in an attempt to catch up to him.

"gojo!" you call out, huffing lightly when he ignores you and turns a corner. "hey! gojo, wait! satoru!"

the sounds of his given name has his steps faltering, and he reluctantly turns around when he hears your footsteps getting closer and closer. there's a rigidity to his stance that you've never seen, his shoulders hunched in an almost defensive way as you finally come to a stop in front of him.

"yeah?" he asks, an uncomfortable grin settling on his lips as he looks anywhere but you. he's grateful for his blindfold in this very moment, the dark fabric preventing him from seeing you in your entirety and preventing you from seeing the way he can't seem to look at you for more than half a second.

"i—," you say, starting to speak and cutting yourself off before looking down at the ground. you sigh softly, shaking your head lightly as your shoulders slump. "never mind. forget about it."

you turn to walk back to the room, and gojo feels like he might actually keel over and die right then and there if he lets you walk away yet again.

"how have you been?"

gojo's question hangs in the air, and he can't help but flinch when you finally look at him again, your eyes swirling with hurt and sadness and other emotions that pass so quickly that gojo isn't sure he could figure out what they were even if he tried.

"you'd know if you hadn't thrown my phone number away," you retort quietly, crossing your arms as he approaches you. gojo breathes in sharply at your words but remains quiet, his throat going dry as he realizes that you had seen what he did that day. "why, gojo?"

gojo weighs his options, vacillating between telling you the truth or spewing a lie. the words seem to spill out of his mouth before he can even think about whether or not to say them, a trend he notices is extremely common whenever he's in your presence. "because you've ruined my life."

okay, so the truth it is.

your eyes widen in hurt when you take in his words, and it takes everything you have to not burst into tears on the spot. "oh, i see."

"wait," gojo says, scrambling to fix the situation that just keeps getting worse and worse with everything he says or does. "that's not what i meant."

"then what did you mean?" you ask sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stare him down.

"what i mean is that i think i love you," he says in a rush, ignoring the way your eyes widen in surprise at his admission. he doesn't give you the chance to respond, too focused on saying everything that's been building up for the past decade before he gets cold feet. "you've ruined my life, you know? it's been ten years but it's damn near impossible to get over you. my heart still feels as heavy as it did the day you let, maybe even heavier, and i threw away your number because i didn't see any benefit in reaching out to you. why would i torture myself by keeping in contact with you when i belong to the world you wanted to leave behind?"

"i wanted to leave the jujutsu world behind," you interject softly, taking a hesitant step towards gojo before coming to a stop. "that doesn't mean i wanted to leave gojo satoru behind."

"oh," gojo breathes. he wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest, and he decides that maybe he doesn't care. "does that mean that—"

"i liked you?" you interrupt, nodding your head softly. "or like, i guess. i agree, ten years isn't enough to get over you."

"i was talking about you," gojo mumbles dumbly, earning a shrug in response from you. a loud crash sounds from the direction of the room you had left nanami in, and you give gojo a hesitant look before motioning in the direction of the noise.

"i should probably go and check that out," you say quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. "y'know, make sure that nanami is okay."

"um, yeah. yeah that sounds reasonable," gojo says, his mind still focused on your impromptu confession.

"i don't think this conversation is over yet," you continue, breathing out a laugh when gojo nods in agreement. he jumps slightly when you take his hand in yours, slipping a piece of paper into in before tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. "let me know when you're free, yeah? maybe we can get dinner or something and talk."

"are you asking me out on a date?" he asks cheekily, doing his best to compose himself.

"maybe i am," you say slyly, squeezing his hand once before letting go. you turn to walk down the hall, only pausing to look at him over your shoulder once before you turn the corner. "don't lose my number this time, okay?"

gojo chuckles at your words, nodding in agreement as he gives you a lazy salute. "i wouldn't dream of it."

it isn't until you're out of sight that gojo realizes his heart feels the lightest that it's ever felt in years, and he finds himself once again wondering when you had gotten the chance to write the note.

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

[mayanneaa]

nights like this - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : everything between you and rafe changes after one stupid birthday party.

WARNING(S) : drinking, smoking, swearing, kinda allusions to drunk driving please do NOT DO THAT EVER, not proofread

A/N : woahh rafe angst coming from me??? also ignore the shitty message thing I'm doing this on my laptop lmaoo (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 2.4k

part 2, “sparkling” out now! find it here

masterlist.

"Babe, c'mon!"

Sarah's practically jumping with excitement as she's leading you to the front door of Tanney Hill. People are spilling out of the house, most already holding a drink or two.

You hear them congratulating you as you pass by, sending them smiles from eye to eye.

Sarah insisted that you should have a big party for this year's birthday. And, be honest, how could you resist?

You two enter the house and crash into Kelce and Rafe almost immediately.

"Well, the birthday girl is here!" Kelce's first to hug you, and you giggle over his shoulder.

When you look up, your eyes rest on Rafe. He looks as good as always— this time, a grin plastered to his lips as he glances at you.

Kelce pulls away, and it's Rafe's turn. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, and the strong smell of sandalwood surrounds your face.

"You look beautiful," he whispers in a low, raspy voice beside your ear.

You’re almost sure he saw the glimpse of your cheeks reddening. And tonight, you don’t even care. It was your night. No stupid feelings can ruin it. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

It’s been like this forever— you’ve known Rafe since you were little, and he’s always been charming.

At first, it was simple things, just like kids would do.

He was letting you hang around, even though you were a bit younger than him. He’d always hold your hand while you were getting on the boat. After some years, you didn’t need any help, but these little moments were yours to keep.

You didn’t notice the moment Rafe started to get more handsome in your eyes, more like… boyfriend material.

It just happened. And after some time, you couldn’t deny it. Something was pulling you to Rafe Cameron.

“Well, see you around, ‘kay? Happy birthday.” Rafe speaks again, and you step back. His touch lingers on your hips before he nods to his sister and follows Kelce to a different part of the house.

You turn around to Sarah, only to see a suggestive look on her face. Her brows are raised, and she's biting her lower lip, trying not to laugh at you.

"Save it," You roll your eyes as you pull her with you to the drinks. "Tonight, I'm not worrying about any stupid guys!"

Your friend answers you with a chant, jumping around and almost spilling her first drink of the night. Someone's already making their way to wish you a happy birthday, and the speakers play one of your favorite songs.

It's going to be good.

After the third cup of Sarah's famous mix, you decide to take a breather. As you walk around Tanney Hill, your vision can't help but spin with each step. The upstairs is much quieter, and the loud thumps of music are not sending your head into space anymore. You don't really look where you're going, so when your feet lead you to the roof, you can't help but let a soft smile on your lips.

It's been your getaway place since ninth grade. Every time something bad happened, and your eyes were filled with tears not meant for the others to see, you climbed out the balcony, fresh air accompanying you.

You settle on the cold, hard tiles, making sure your dress doesn’t get too dirty. You can see everything from up here. The moon’s reflection on the ocean is blurred at the edges, moving with the waves.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in the salty air.

“Look who’s there.” The voice suddenly breaking through the silence makes you jump.

Rafe’s face appears, his sharp features bathing in the light from the room below. He smiles as he climbs up, taking the spot next to you.

“Hi.” You try your best for your voice not to sound weird.

He shuffles in his place, his arm absentmindedly brushing yours.

"So, got overwhelmed?" Rafe starts. You nod in response, letting out a sigh.

"You know me so well, huh?"

He rests on his elbows, and he has a proud look on his face when he looks at you. "Duhh. I might know you better than Sarah."

You snort. Maybe he's right. But there are little things only you know.

For example, the way your heart races at the moment. If you sat two inches closer, he’d surely hear every single beat.

The two of you sat like this, in the soothing silence. Only the whistles of wind and crashing waves below interrupted it.

"It's so nice..." You finally speak up, tilting your head.

"Mhm." Rafe mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, looking for a lighter. When he pulls it out, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Want one?"

You glance at him for a little. It's your birthday, after all. You nod, and Rafe lights up the cig. He takes a blow first, then passes it to you.

You inhale the smoke, a small cough escaping your lips.

"What do you wish for?" He says with a smirk. You give him a quick look and feel your cheeks warm up.

Fuck.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, you do know."

You roll your eyes. "And since when are you so curious about things like this?"

"Darling, when wasn't I curious about you?"

Rafe's got a point. He forced you into a corner, and there's no room for a slick escape.

"Alright," you start, looking at the dark horizon. "I'd like to kiss someone on a night like this."

He raises his eyebrow, moving his body closer to yours. "Are you kidding?"

"What? No!"

What were you supposed to do, tell him the truth? Say, 'Yeah, I wish you'd notice I've been head over heels for you since, like, forever?' No. You had to make something up.

Fortunately for you, it wasn't a total lie. You've always adored this time of the day— soft, quiet nights. The sky filled with stars, the breeze flowing around you.

"Seriously! It's... romantic."

"Oh, yeah?"

He’s leaning in, and when your eyes dart down, his fingers trace the back of your hand.

Before you can do anything, Rafe presses his lips to yours, the taste of vodka lingering in between.

It's soft, almost as if Rafe's unsure. Nothing like the kisses you've been imagining before falling asleep. Those were burning, filled with passion, and you'd usually already be soaked by the rain.

You put your hand on his chest, a move laced with uncertainty, and finally deepen the kiss. Under your fingertips, you can feel each beat of his heart. It's as intense as the thumps of music below your body. This feels so... unreal.

His hands make their way to your neck, holding it from behind and pulling you even closer.

You sober up in seconds. You part from him, your breath coming out heavy.

His lips are red, a shade slowly matching his cheeks.

“Enjoy your wish,” Rafe whispers beside your lips, and you feel your heart fall.

What did it mean to him? You've known him forever, and you've seen how he used to act with girls— making out with them the whole night, not even bothering to text them back after the party's over. He's so nonchalant and so smug that you start having second thoughts.

“Rafe. I swear, if you’re trying to mess with me—”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, near the heart. Now, his heart rate is even stronger than the music thumps. “Do you really think I’m joking?”

You open your mouth, ready to answer when you hear someone calling you. Your eyes widen as you glance over at Rafe again. The smirk on his face seems to be stuck there.

“I- I have to go,” you mumble, trying to get down without giving him a chance to notice how shaky your legs are. And your hands. Actually, how shaky you are in overall.

“I’ll drive you home later. Okay, baby?”

If you were alone, the whole Outer Banks would hear the scream that’s begging to get out of your throat.

“Didn’t you drink?” You try to sound as casual as you can, but the corners of your mouth manage to rise.

He shakes his head, “Not much. You better go down there. They’re waiting for the birthday girl.”

You look at him for the last time before disappearing into the house, cheeks warmer than ever in your life.

Hours later, the crowd in the house starts to thin. You didn't really drink much after coming back— the kiss was intoxicating enough.

Sarah walks around, throwing all the empty cups she'd found in the trash bag.

"Sarah, you don't have to do it now!" You whine, leaning on the couch. "I'll come back in the morning and help you, promise."

She shakes her head, "It's nothing. I'm honestly surprised it's not that much of a mess. You should go and find Rafe, he'll drive you home."

As she mentions her brother, she wiggles her brows with a playful smirk, making you groan. "Shut up! I shouldn't have told you about that after you drank those weird mixes—"

She giggles, picking up the bottles laying next to the table.

You roll your eyes and leave the room, looking around for the well-known face. He's nowhere to be seen here, so you climb up the stairs, moving around the very few people left, sending them soft and quick smiles as you pass them.

"Rafe?" You call out through the empty halls, heading to his room. You wouldn't be shocked if he just went to his room, away from all the people.

His door is left slightly open. You frown as you lean in, peeking through the thin gap. Even though it's not really polite.

A second later you wish you'd never gone there. Of course, Rafe's inside. But not alone.

In fact, there's some touron girl all over him. Her arms are around his neck, and you are almost sure they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats. You don't see much in the dim, warm light, but what you've already seen is enough.

You stand there for a split second, holding your breath, before you turn around on your heels and sprint down, as quietly as you can.

There's a bitter feeling in your throat, the way it tightens. You try to breathe, the air coming out in heavy, shaky parts.

You should've known this. It was obvious from the beginning— how could Rafe, someone who's been around since you were a little kid, see you as something more? As a girl he could be with?

Maybe he did find you attractive, but nothing more. You were just one of many girls.

"Woah!"

You crash with someone, almost falling, but you somehow keep your balance. Topper's standing in front of you, startled. There's a glimpse of worry in his eyes, the brows beneath them pulled together.

"Topper!" you breathe out, "Can you drive me home? Pretty please."

"Uhm, I mean, sure. But wasn't Rafe supposed to drop you off? I've heard him saying--"

You swallow hard. "He's busy."

"Oh, alright. Go to my car, I'll grab my keys and be there in a second, okay?"

"Mhm." You nod and look around to find Sarah asleep on one of the couches. A giggle slips from your lips, a reaction that makes you raise your brows.

Guess you'll have to tell her everything tomorrow.

You head out of the house, cold, breezy air hitting you in the face. Topper's car is already waiting for you on the driveway. You quickly take the passenger seat.

While waiting for the boy, you have to blink away the tears. You feel so... stupid.

Topper comes a few minutes after you. You can feel his stare as you two make your way to your house, but he doesn't say a thing until you are in front of your place.

"Will you be okay?" he asks. You jump on the hard ground and turn around to him, tilting your head.

"Yeah. Thanks," you say softly with a smile. "I'll be fine."

You don't waste a second— right after he drives off you go to your house, trying not to wake anyone up.

The first time you let the tears fall this night is in the shower. The salty streams get mixed with water, dripping onto your feet.

You try to feel anything.

You wait for the anger when you put on your pajamas.

You stand in the fogged-up mirror, searching for the slightest sadness on your face.

Even while laying in bed, minutes before falling asleep, you give yourself a moment to crash out. To be mad, be jealous over a boy you've loved for what feels like forever. But none of that comes.

Instead, you just feel plainly stupid. Maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, or maybe you're ashamed you seriously thought he could like you.

You don't get any answer.

"Fuuckk."

You're never letting Sarah near the alcohol cupboard ever again. God only knows what she put in those mixes, but your head feels like exploding.

You look around the room bathed in the soft, early morning sunlight. You're not sure how much sleep you got, but it surely wasn't enough for you to forget what happened at the party.

Your phone is on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and some aspirin, probably left here by your mom.

You rub your eyes as you reach for it, your vision is still a little blurry.

There are some messages from Sarah, and you can’t help but smile when you see it all in the caps.

Of course, you can’t be happy for even a minute because, under her messages, there’s a notification from Rafe. Two missed calls and a few texts.

You squeeze the bridge of your nose as you read what he’d typed out.

Typical Rafe. Always acting clueless. So frustrating.

You bite your lip, thinking of how to reply. You didn't have the energy to talk about what you saw. Just like you were numb before, now all the emotions come with full force. If you tried to explain it, you'd probably end up screaming, crying or just completely breaking down.

The best thing to do is not to make a deal out of it— at least that's what you come up with, your head dizzy from being hungover, as your trembling fingers hit each letter.

It's for the better. Because this way, you can't get hurt even more. The thought of you spilling your heart in front of him, and Rafe's response is what he'd always use with the other girls...

You can't let it happen.

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[eraenaa]

Please, Please, Please (Rafe's Edition)

Inspired by the song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Being with Rafe, a notorious hotheaded drug dealer, you knew others would question your relationship— especially your parents, who had never been fond of him. But when his habits had been too much to handle, you knew that you would prefer heartbreak to a broken ego. 

Warnings: ¿Slight Angst?,Possessiveness, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 4,480

You took a risk—a big one at that. Rafe had always been a boy your parents, friends, and almost everyone warned you about, but you ignored their qualms, for there was this persistent pull to him that you could not deny. 

Growing up, it was plain that he was a bully. He was always one to torment other children in the playground or at school, but you were saved from his hostility, him only as going as far as teasing you because you were easily baited. Later, he did admit that it was his only way to gain your attention. You had hoped he would grow out of his tormenting ways when the two of you reached maturity, but it only severed. He always got into pointless and petty fights and was scolded by his teachers and father as he was often suspended from school, but their warnings did nothing to deter him. When you reached high school, you once again hoped he would clean up his act, wanting to fall fully for him, but his rash decision, raging temper, and ill vices had only multiplied— hindering you from admitting the attraction you had to him since childhood. 

It was plain that any pull you had towards him should be ignored and buried deep inside, for he only came with trouble. It also did not help that he had doubled his efforts to show his interest in you. Giving you little gifts and trinkets he knew you were entirely fond of. Scaring away any romantic prospects, labeling you as ‘his’ though nothing between you two was truly set in stone. So, you could not help yourself to succumb to him— to finally be his, just like your heart in childhood longed for. As years passed, you would silently beg him not to prove you right— that he could overcome the judgments passed on him, but your pleas were moot, for Rafe could never fully shed the true yet cruel perceptions of him. 

You tried to keep him at arm’s length for as long as you could, but even the mightiest and most stubborn of soldiers falter and lose their sensibilities. The two of you started with hookups, not entirely romantic, yes, but it was enough for you to fall further for him. You would often sneak around at parties, making out in the bathroom or an empty closet or even a dark corner somewhere. You thought the both of you could live happily even though no one knew you were with him, so no one could pass their judgments. Things were quick to escalate with you giving him your first kiss to him taking your first time. 

“Rafe,” You cried out in pain, him drawing circles upon your sensitive bud as his well-endowed length pushed its way in you,  him hushing and kissing your tears away as he fully sheathed himself in your cunt— finally taking all of you after years of patience and restraint. “Just a little more, pretty girl… you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He hissed as he felt you clench around him, your cunt tighter than he had hoped, and Rafe felt lightheaded.  You nodded weakly and looked at him through teared-filled eyes. “Fucking hell, baby… you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned as he cautiously thrust into you, waiting for your pained expression to turn to pleasure. 

“Rafe… oh god, I— just like that,” you said, almost incoherently. “Such a good girl taking all of my cock… you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this… how long I’ve wanted you.” Rafe gritted through pleasure. That night, you knew there was no turning back; every part of you was Rafe’s that even your mind could not even find caution. 

However, just like in any other relationship, there were trials. Your trial was to keep Rafe at bay, not to let him sink into his addiction and violence. Your earnest effort was poured into his rehabilitation and to calm his forever violent being. Rafe’s trial was you keeping your relationship a secret. He wanted to shout it and make it known throughout the Outer Banks that you were his. That the only girl he had ever wanted— loved was finally his, but you were persistent in keeping the both of you a secret, having to sneak around. The touches, longing, pleasure, and love need to be hidden in the dark. Sometimes, he wondered if you were ashamed of him, but he did not like dwelling on the thought, for it only brought devastation in him. There was a painful throb in his chest and a pit in his stomach when he would think of the matter. 

“Rafe, do you really have to… do this?” You asked as your eyes flew towards the packet of white substance he was planning to sell at a party you two would attend later that day. “You know I have to, baby… it’ll be quick, I swear. Those kids always sell out my stock,” He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You licked your lips and stared at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. Rafe had stopped using the moment the two of you went official, but no matter what half-hearted ultimatum you threw at him, you could not hinder him from engaging in illegal dealings. 

“But what if you get caught… your father h—“ Rafe sighed and kissed your lips shut. He appreciated your concern greatly; you were the only one who genuinely cared and loved him, but he could not listen to your concern, for he had no actual choice but to sell. He had great financial needs, especially because you were with him; he needed to support both of you. To show you that he can provide you with the well-off life you already lived. Yes, his family did have money, a great deal of it, but he didn’t have the want to be indebted and be under his father’s thumb. 

“I won’t. Stop worrying, baby; you know it makes your stomach upset,” It was half concern and half tease; you could only roll your eyes at his words. “Just… just be safe— be cautious and—“ Rafe kissed your lips shut once more, smirking against your lips as he could not help but be flattered by your concern. “I know what I’m doing.” He said confidently. You were unconvinced but still gave a nod, not wanting to push and anger him. 

True enough to his word, nothing of note happened at the party, much to your relief. The following day, you did not expect to see Rafe, for you had told him you were busy with engagements with your parents. “What are you doing here?” You asked with a frantic smile as you felt arms wrap around you. You were in the country club’s restaurant waiting for your parents to arrive. 

Rafe did not answer your question; he simply just connected your lips, and your eyes grew wide. From where you sat, you gently pushed him away, and you felt guilt course your system as you saw hurt in his ocean eyes. “My parents are here,” You say warily, further putting distance between you. Rafe stood straight and frowned, “So?” He asked, and you smoothened the fabric of your dress in nervousness. “You know why,” You say softly, and you hear him scoff and shake his head. “Baby, it’s been two years… how long are you gonna hide us?” He asked, and you felt further guilt take over you. You parted your lips to speak but you hear your parents call for your name, making you stand in surprise and hesitantly greet them. 

“So sorry we’re late, darling; your father and I could not escape our meeting!” Your mother sighed and patted your cheek affectionately. “Oh, you have company,” Your mother said in surprise as she noticed Rafe standing behind you. You feel your stomach drop as your father’s eyes fly to Rafe. “You’re Ward’s son, aren’t you?” He asked, uncertain as he and your mother only spent scarce time on the island. “Rafael, was it?” Your father asked, and you chewed on your cheek as you watched their interaction. “Rafe,” he gritted, and you gave him a look, “… sir. It’s Rafe,” He corrected, and your father nodded in acknowledgment. 

You took in a deep breath as your father assisted your mother to sit and motioned for you to do the same, but you were hesitant as Rafe still stood by the side of your table. You look to your mother, and she purses her lips, “Bye, Rafe, tell Sarah I’ll see her later,” You suddenly say as his cue to leave; you clench your hands around the fabric of your dress as you see anger and hurt in his eyes as the words left your lips, expecting you to invite him to your family’s meal and hopefully reveal your relationship to your parents. “Yeah, see you around,” He gritted out and stomped out of the restaurant, anger exuding from him. 

You took a menu into your hands and finally let out a breath of relief. “I don’t want you to associate yourself with that type of company,” Your father suddenly said. You lowered the menu in your hands, “What?” You asked quietly. “I do not want you to associate yourself with that boy,” You blinked at your father’s words. “He’s Sarah’s brother,” You say meekly. “Even so. He only comes with trouble, darling. We are here only a handful of months every year, but the rumors and talk about him and his… habits are deafening,” Your mother chimed in, and you lowered your gaze. “We are not hindering you from being friends with Sarah, but it would be best if you keep your distance from her brother— we don’t need you being influenced by that, Rafe,” You bit your lip as you slowly nodded, your parents expecting a response of agreement from you. 

After the day spent with your parents, you rushed towards Tannyhill as you feel Rafe was not too happy with you. He would usually message and call you throughout the day to see how you were, but not even one notification came from him, rendering you further in guilt. “I’m so sorry,” You say in a plea as you knelt on Rafe’s bed, him sitting idly by the headboard, avoiding your gaze, a prominent furrow in his brows. You placed your hand on his leg, and you sighed as he moved his limb away from your touch. You watched as he crossed his arms across his chest and turned further away from you. It shouldn’t amuse you, but he looked like a little kid who was on the verge of a tantrum. 

“I really am sorry. I just wasn’t ready to tell them yet,” You say and move closer to Rafe, taking hold of his hand. “It’s been two years. If you still aren’t ready now, when will you be?” He grumbled, and you bit your lip. 

“Rafe, you know it’s complicated, my parents are…” You trailed, unable to find the word. “Just fucking say you’re ashamed of me!” Rafe seethed and stood from his bed. Your lips parted in shock at his words, “That’s not true! I love you; I will never be ashamed of you!” You defended and stood as well, following close to him. “Yeah? Then why the fuck are we a secret?” You lowered your gaze in shame as he screamed at you. “Because my parents won’t approve,” You said truthfully. “Rafe, they still see you as a hothead junkie… and I know you’ve changed— I’ve seen you change, but they haven’t. And they're just… they don’t want me near you,” You said, and Rafe shook his head, a gnawing feeling in his gut. He didn’t care for the other’s opinion of him, but now he could not help but too because your parent’s opinion of him was what was hindering you from being fully his. 

“I just fear that if we tell them now, they’ll take drastic measures to— to separate us,” You say in fear. “What?” He asked and made you lift your gaze and look at him. “They’ve been wanting to move to New York for a while now— for the business, but I keep insisting on staying here,” You admitted, having hidden that information from Rafe for a year because you didn’t want it to go in between your relationship. You hear Rafe’s ragged breathing, “How much longer?” He asked in aggravation. “I don’t know,” You say truthfully. “That’s not a fucking answer,” You hear how hard he tried hard to control his rage, to not point his anger at you. 

“Rafe,” you sighed. “I know how you’ve changed— I’ve watched you change, and I am so proud of you… but,” You bit your lip as you tried to decide if you should continue speaking. “But what?” He seethed. “You still deal drugs… you haven’t cut the final tie to that life,” You say lowly. “Baby, you know why I do it,” You furrowed your brow; do you truly know why? You began to wonder. Rafe saw your confusion and spoke once more. 

“I’m doing it for us— for you, so I can support you. So we can be free in the future. Just you and me.” He said and cupped your cheeks, but his explanation did not aid your bewilderment. “Rafe, you know I am not with you for money… I don’t need you to provide for me, and I most certainly don’t need tainted currency.” 

“I know you don’t need me to provide for you— I want to provide for you,” You sighed as your heart doubled at his words. “I appreciate that… but, my love, there are other ways… when we build our life together, we don’t need this type of money. We could find jobs in the meantime, and in a few years, I’ll have hold of my trust fund; we could use that to build the life we want.” Rafe shook his head at the solution you presented, it was simply not good enough for him. He would not subject you to finding a job and dipping into your trust fund just because he could not provide for you properly. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” you sighed, “Rafe… I— This can’t go on, ‘cause—“ you quickly halted your words before you uttered something you might regret. “Cause what?” Rafe questioned, and his frown deepened as you took off his hold on your face. “Rafe, I love you.. but I can’t be with you if you still do this,” You said, solemnly. Rafe felt his stomach twist at your words. 

“You accused me of being ashamed of you… I am not, I could never be.” You spoke, voice already heavy with emotion. “I am, however, ashamed of what you do— I’m sorry— I know you are doing it with the purest of intentions, but there are other ways to earn money; you know there are.” Rafe felt his body turn rigged with rage. “And think of the scandal of it all… I love you, but please, please, please, you must understand that I cannot tarnish my and my family’s reputation with this,” You feel a tear fall from your eyes, and you cannot even stomach to look at Rafe in the eyes. 

“Get out,” You hear him say through gritted teeth after a moment of steely silence passed. You finally placed your gaze upon his and all you could see was anger and hurt, “Get the fuck out!” He screamed, and you backed away, not challenging him anymore, and just did as he told. As you sat at his bedroom door, you bit your tongue to stifle a sob as you heard him let out his rage, thrashing and ruining his room, throwing and breaking anything and everything. 

Three weeks passed, and you did nothing but mourn your secret relationship with Rafe. You barely left the house, actively avoiding the places you knew you would see him in. Only going out on the days you had memorized he had ‘business’ to attend to and won’t be out of town. A part of you felt entirely guilty, ending it and crushing your heart and his, but the more rational part of you saw that it was needed. Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is certainly another. And you thought you could handle a broken heart better than a tarnished reputation. 

“Hey!” You hear banging at your front door, and you frown from where you sit in the living room. You made cautious steps as the door pounded. You would lie if the violent banging of the wooden door did not make you hope it was Rafe, but as you looked through the peephole, you saw his sister. “Sarah?” You asked as you opened the door, and she smiled at you. “Where have you been? You’ve been MIA the past few weeks! Are you sick?” She asked as you ushered her inside your house. 

“Uhm… just haven’t been feeling well,” You fibbed as you took her to the kitchen and handed her some refreshments. “Are you better now?” You gave her a forced smile and nodded your head. “Great! Because you’re coming with me to a party!” You frowned at her words, “I don’t know… I’m not really up for a party,” You say softly, and Sarah shakes her head. “Come on! It’s Top’s birthday— he even sent me here to convince you we miss you!” Sarah pleaded, and your broken heart grew warm at her words. You took a moment before answering, “Fine,” You sighed and you saw clear excitement in her eyes as she had convinced you. 

“When is it?” You asked as Sarah took hold of your wrist. “Now! Come one, let’s get you ready!” You laughed as she hurriedly led you to your room and ready you for the party. “There are a lot of cute guys there… might wanna get to know them,” You could only blink at her words. Sarah sighed as you stood before your closet, “I… I know about you and Rafe,” She suddenly confessed, and you could not find it in yourself to be surprised. “And I’m not trying to bum you out, but maybe you should try to move on, find someone else… he certainly has,” You feel your heart pit at the last words she mumbled. “What?” You asked meekly. Sarah fidgeted with her fingers, “He’s been fucking his way through the island,” She said lowly. You sucked on your lip; you did expect it. He was a notorious playboy before you two went official, so it was only fitting he waltzes back into old patterns after your relationship’s demise. 

As you entered the party with Sarah, you squared your shoulders and avoided the dark corners of the house, knowing that is where Rafe would be. You barely entered the threshold when someone already came up to you, “Can I get you a drink?” A tall guy with brown hair and hazel eyes asked you; you flashed him a quick smile and a nod, and he led you to a drinks table, Sarah whispering ‘good luck’ in your ear as you departed from her side. 

Rafe felt his eye twitch as he saw you by the drink table chatting with a guy wearing one of your dresses that was his favorite. His hold on the wad of cash grew tighter as you had a smile on your face and the guy leaning closer to you. “Yo, dude, can I get my change?” Someone yelled at him through the blaring music. Rafe clenched his jaw and begrudgingly moved his eyes from you to hand the person their change. How could you just walk in this and flirt with guys as if you had not broken his heart? How could you bait him, lead in him with false promises and security— love and care for him like nobody else had, then just fucking leave!

You left the party proper, letting the guy you just met lead you to the backyard to where a swing set was, the both of you needing quiet to hold and actually conversation. He was not Rafe, did not come close, but maybe that was a good thing. You were grateful for the distraction, and if your heart were not so stubborn, you would be more interested in him. You did not know how long the both of you stayed chatting in the swing set, but when the both of you heard the distinct sound of a cop’s car and kids running out of the house, you two quickly stood and saw what was happening.

You took a deep breath as you saw the scene before you: Rafe being handcuffed by the sheriff and his little packets being confiscated. You locked eyes with ocean-blue ones for the first time in three weeks, and you saw nothing but rage and hate in them. You chewed on your cheeks as they escorted Rafe out, and you left the guy you were with to find Sarah. 

Rafe sat in the holding cell, staring blankly at the floor. He did not know how to process anything. He did not know if he should focus more on the fact that he was arrested or the scene he saw in the backyard with you chatting and laughing with some guy but the swing set. Rafe made himself more comfortable in his seat, certain he would stay the night there, but he was surprised as the cell doors were being unlocked. “Get up, Cameron; someone posted your bail.” Rafe blinked. Did his father truly come to get him? Who else would post his bail so quickly?

When Rafe walked out of holding, he saw you speaking with the sheriff, and he felt his knees grow weak. You turned to him, no word uttered before you stepped outside, and he simply followed. Rafe saw his truck parked outside, guessing one of his friends dropped you off before leaving because you never learned how to drive. Rafe sighed, took hold of the passenger side door handle, and opened the door for you, like always, hearing you mumble a quick ‘thanks’ before the two of you were enveloped in silence once more. 

You sat stiffly in your seat as Rafe drove you home, but halfway through the drive, Rafe stopped by the side of the road. “Why?” He suddenly asked as his truck came to an abrupt halt. “I know you didn’t want to bring your dad into this,” You answered quietly. Rafe huffed and shook his head. “No— why the fuck did you end it?” Rafe confronted. “Rafe, I told you, we can’t be together with all this… shit! I— I can’t be with you if you keep doing this. Do you know how scary it is for me? Besides being labeled as the girlfriend of a drug dealer… I have to wait for you to go home, hoping you’re unscathed—that you didn’t get into any danger. I don’t want to live with that kind of anxiety, Rafe!” You paused your lips as you saw his tight grip on the steering wheel. You feel your eyes welling with tears, and you curse yourself as your tears will surely ruin your makeup. 

“Fine, I’ll… I’ll quit,” Rafe said after a moment, and you shook your head and crossed your arms. “Don’t make empty promises, Rafe.” You sighed as he tried to take hold of your hand. “Baby, you know I always keep my promises… remember when I said I’d quit doing drugs? I did it, didn’t I? I did it for you, and I’ll do this for you again,” You swallowed thickly at Rafe’s words. “Rafe…” you trailed, not knowing what to say. “I swear— I can put all of this behind, just… I can’t lose you, not you.” Rafe pleaded and you could only reach forward and kiss him. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want it to come to this— I never wanted to give you an ultimatum bu—“ Rafe cut you off by kissing your lips once more, starved by the taste and feel of you. “I know, baby, I know.” He sighed as he pulled you towards his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed yours. “Sa… Sarah said you’ve been sleeping around,” You say quietly as he leaves marks on your skin. “Bullshit. You know I can’t get it up for anyone else… I only want you,” Rafe breathed out and cupped your cheek. Between his past business and his wallowing for your relationship, where would he even find time or the want for other girls? You slowly nodded and decided to believe his words. 

‘I’ve missed you,” You confessed and saw him smirk. “Good.” He answered and smashed your lips. He quickly undid the zipper of his jeans and hiked up your dress to your waist. You did not even notice it, but you were already so wet for him, your wanting aiding you to sink down on his cock. Rafe watched in amazement as your eyes rolled back and your lips parted as you let out a quiet moan. “Oh god… Rafe,” you called out breathlessly, already feeling him brush over the sensitive spot in your cunt. This position was his favorite because he was able to take you deeply, have your body flushed against his, and, most importantly, he got to kiss your plush, sweet lips. 

Rafe yanked down the top of your dress and took your tit into the cavern of his mouth as you bounced on his cock. “God, you’re so pretty,” Rafe breathed out as you clenched further along his length. “And you’re all mine,” he added and gripped your behind. “Yes… all yours,” You agreed as you moaned, the windowing of his truck fogging up. You grew careless at the passing cars, unable to find caution that the both of you might get caught, for you have missed Rafe and his cock terribly. “Are you gonna come, baby? Is my pretty girl gonna come?” Rafe hissed as he felt you rest your head on his broad shoulder; you often did that as you concentrated on reaching your peak. 

He felt you nod, and he reached towards your breast to cup and pinch the bud, earning a loud moan from your lips. Rafe was quick to follow you, spilling his seed deep inside your cunt, as three weeks without you had made him desperate. “Fuck…” Rafe hissed, and you cupped his cheeks to kiss his lips. 

You breathed heavily as you stared at his hazy eyes. “Rafe?” You called and hummed. “Please, don’t prove ‘em right? Please?” You asked, and Rafe smiled, nodding his head. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” 

[wosofutbolfan]

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

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

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

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

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

You weren’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

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

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

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

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

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

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

“Boobs”

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

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs Putellas.

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

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

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

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

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

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

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

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

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

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

But still.

Hero.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

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

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

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

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

“Estoy Muerta.”

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

“Shh Ale.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That sounds good.

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

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

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

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

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

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

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

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

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was my agent.”

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

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

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

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

You wait a beat

Another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

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

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

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

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

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

“What If-”

“Ale.”

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

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

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

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

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

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

You are not God's strongest soldier.

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

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

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

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

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

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

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

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

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

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

“Amor!”

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

“SURPRISE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

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

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

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

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

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

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serpentine!”

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

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

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

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

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

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

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

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

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

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

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

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

The screen changes to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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