#and sometimes in the dining room she plays with water

[princedrewwrites]

one of the kids at my school is clearly in need of extra support but she doesn’t really have it like her brothers do and I feel so sad for her especially because she’s low verbal,, she’s my lil buddy tho, she’s so cool and happy it just makes me sad she’s being failed and I can’t do anything but spend 1 hour a day with her n make sure she’s alright for that hour

[all-pacas]

I finished my Rome book and have now begun one about Pompeii. I’m 65 pages in and I already love it: yes, it covers the volcano, but most of the book is about “this is what the town and daily life of it would have been like, actually.” Fascinating stuff. Things I’ve learned so far:

- The streets in Pompeii have sidewalks sometimes a meter higher than the road, with stepping stones to hop across as “crosswalks.” I’d seen some photos before. The book points out that, duh, Pompeii had no underground drainage, was built on a fairly steep incline, and the roads were more or less drainage systems and water channels in the rain.

- Unlike today, where “dining out” is expensive and considered wasteful on a budget, most people in Pompeii straight up didn’t have kitchens. You had to eat out if you were poor; only the wealthy could afford to eat at home.

- Most importantly, and I can’t believe in all the pop culture of Pompeii this had never clicked for me: Pompeii had a population between 6-35,000 people. Perhaps 2,000 died in the volcano. Contemporary sources talk about the bay being full of fleeing ships. Most people got the hell out when the eruption started. The number who died are still a lot, and it’s still gruesome and morbid, but it’s not “an entire town and everyone in it.” This also makes it difficult for archeologists, apparently (and logically): those who remained weren’t acting “normally,” they were sheltering or fleeing a volcano. One famous example is a wealthy woman covered in jewelry found in the bedroom in the glaridator barracks. Scandal! She must have been having an affair and had it immortalized in ash! The book points out that 17 other people and several dogs were also crowded in that one small room: far more likely, they were all trying to shelter together. Another example: Houses are weirdly devoid of furniture, and archeologists find objects in odd places. (Gardening supplies in a formal dining room, for example.) But then you remember that there were several hours of people evacuating, packing their belongings, loading up carts and getting out… maybe the gardening supplies were brought to the dining room to be packed and abandoned, instead of some deeper esoteric meaning. The book argues that this all makes it much harder to get an accurate read on normal life in a Roman town, because while Pompeii is a brilliant snapshot, it’s actually a snapshot of a town undergoing major evacuation and disaster, not an average day.

- Oh, another great one. Outside of a random laundry place in Pompeii, someone painted a mural with two scenes. One of them referenced Virgil’s Aeneid. Underneath that scene, someone graffiti’d a reference to a famous line from that play, except tweaked it to be about laundry. This is really cool, the book points out, because it implies that a) literacy and education was high enough that one could paint a reference and have it recognized, and b) that someone else could recognize it and make a dumb play on words about it and c) the whole thing, again, means that there’s a certain amount of literacy and familiarity with “Roman pop culture” even among fairly normal people at the time.

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Proposition

Summary: You've been at The Sanctuary for a while after Negan saved you. You're a virgin and more than anything you want Negan to be your first. Sick of waiting to be noticed, you go to him and tell him what you want.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC, second person), Simon, Dwight, Regina, Laura, Gavin, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59682937

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, unprotected p in v, female reader, no use of Y/N, praise kink, loss of virginity, daddy kink, dirty talk, ice play, reader is in their 20s, etc.

Notes: This is day 7 to go with this kinktober list. The prompts this time were bitemarks, ice play and virgin. With this fic, I was a little sick of just flat out porn so I wanted to have it be sweeter. So it has more plot. Negan is more romantic and while he's still Negan with his mouth and actions, it's a more romantic...ish kinktober fic. PS, if you're allergic to peanut butter, I have the reader eat a peanut butter cup in this so I'm sorry if that offends you.

Everything around you was loud. But then again, people were always busy at The Sanctuary. You were seated in the dining hall to yourself. So many things had been on your mind lately and you never had any time to yourself to really think things over appropriately.

Hearing a stir, your eyes lifted to the second level seeing a few of The Saviors walking out near the ledge railing. That’s when your eyes fell on him. The man that people either loved or hated. There were no gray areas it seemed. And you understood both sides. However, with you, you swayed toward the side of actually liking Negan. When The Saviors were out on one of their runs a few months ago, you had been alone. They found you in an abandoned town, trapped with next to nothing. Everyone that had been with you had died and Negan was actually the person who had saved you. So people could say a lot of things about Negan and sometimes they were probably right. But you had a different experience with Negan.

Part of you was actually a little disappointed. There were certain women at The Sanctuary that Negan would bring back and ask to be his wives. That was what he referred to them as of course. You on the other hand, you wondered if he felt bad for you. Because unlike other people, he set you up with a room. Most people had to fight for that kind of thing. Or pay with their points that they earned. Sure, you were still working for points, but Negan had given you your own little apartment that had food and water in it. You were neither a Savior nor a wife. You were just there. Interactions with Negan were also incredibly rare. You tried to stand out to Negan and when you did catch his attention, it always got your heart kickstarted inside of your chest. Something about his smile drove you wild. It was safe to say you were incredibly attracted to Negan and not just because he saved your life. Looks wise, he was gorgeous. And personality? Well, he was arrogant and apparently? You were attracted to that too.

It was just disappointing that when he found you, he didn’t have enough interest in you to make you one of his wives. You had sat with a table of women that gossiped a lot about things at The Sanctuary. There were a lot of crazy things people would talk about. Some would say he slept with the wives. Others would say that he was gay and the wives were just a front. It was a little all over the place. But one thing they brought up once was how big Negan’s manhood was. One of them had caught Negan coming out of the showers once and she couldn’t stop talking about it. Of course people thought she was full of shit because they thought someone who was as arrogant as Negan was, he had to be making up for something he was lacking. But after that conversation, you found yourself staring a lot trying to determine what was honest.

There was one thing that you figured might have been a turn off in terms of yourself if Negan really was this ladies man that some people suggested that he was. You were a virgin. You had been alone for a long time and when the world fell to shit you were pretty tame in terms of things. But now that you were at The Sanctuary, your hormones were going crazy every time you saw Negan. A big part of you wanted Negan to be your first, but the fact that you rarely got his attention as it was made it hard for you to even approach Negan.

Your throat tensed up with Negan curling his fingers around the yellow railing looking down at the people below. There was a smile that tugged at his lips with Simon whispering something in his ear and you felt your throat go dry. God, you wanted him to notice you so fucking bad, but you knew that in a group this large? It was never going to happen. And if you hadn’t been asked by Negan to be one of his wives yet, there was a strong chance that he had no interest in you.

Tapping his hands against the yellow bar, Negan nodded back toward his office and you felt disappointed. You were right. He didn’t notice you. Finishing up your meal, you headed up to the second floor. That was where your room was and considering you got your work done for the day, you figured that you would just rest for what was left of it before you had to get started again.

As you made your way to your room, you stopped when you realized that Negan’s office door was open. A few of the men and women were standing around him. They were staring down at something that was spread out across the long table. Thinking things over, you felt both a rush of anxiety and bravery flood through your veins. You wanted to talk to Negan. Badly. But then again, he was surrounded by some of his top Saviors and they might punish you for interrupting them.

Stepping closer toward Negan’s office, you realized that the sudden sense of boldness you were feeling was just stupid. So you quickly stepped back and started to head back for your room. But then again, what if you did make your intentions known? The worst thing he could do was say no. And then you could work on shutting those feelings down instead of letting them linger.

Taking slow steps back toward Negan’s office, you stopped when you got to the door. Clearing your throat, you moved into the office and knocked faintly at the opened door. Well shit. A rush of panic flooded through your veins when every single one of the Saviors lifted their heads to stare out at you in confusion. They were all waiting on you, including Negan who had one eyebrow arched in curiosity. It was then that you noticed just beyond the map that they were looking at, on the edge of the table was Negan’s bat Lucille.

“What?” Simon snapped waving his hand about when you nervously moved forward into the room.

“Can I…can I speak with Negan?” you wondered, shoving your hands into your pockets nervously.

“Anything you have to say to Negan, you can say to us,” Regina stressed to you, standing up straight and moving forward from where she had been standing beside Negan. It was then you realized that Negan’s main lieutenants and council were who was in that room with him.

“Not exactly?” you breathed out, your voice quiet and you could tell that your answer annoyed The Saviors, but it amused Negan who had his hazel eyes locked on you. Resting back in his chair, Negan clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth and it made you shrug. “It’s personal.”

“Nothing is personal in The Sanctuary,” Dwight suggested from where he was standing beside Simon who nodded. “You aren’t a Savior, you don’t deserve respect. So either you tell us what you want or get the fuck out of here.”

“Dwighty boy!” Negan’s voice boomed, letting out a tsking sound and wiggling his finger about. “Let’s be nice to the lady. I do agree that anything she has to say to me can be said in front of my Saviors, but you don’t have to be a dick.”

“Yeah. Don’t be a dick Dwight,” Simon muttered under his breath, mocking Dwight when he playfully smacked his hand upside Dwight’s head who grunted.

“So what is it?” Laura threw her hands up in the air with all of their attention on you.

“I just wanted to ask him something,” you stressed, not sure you wanted to outright say what it was that you wanted.

“Then ask,” Simon hissed having you let out a nervous breath. Silence followed. How could you say this and not be embarrassed? “Negan, come on.”

“I want to have sex with Negan,” you blurt out, just letting it escape your lips. And by the expressions on everyone’s face, you suddenly felt ridiculous for letting it slip like that.

“Well goddamn,” Negan snickered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A few of the other Saviors’ faces had gone pale when Negan wiggled his fingers to beckon you closer into the office. “You are not what I pictured! You are very fucking forward. I like that. I like that a lot.”

Nodding your head once, you felt like the room was spinning around you and you swallowed down hard. Standing up from where he was seated, you felt your face get hot when Negan dragged his zipper down in his pants, “So you wanna do it right here?”

Your eyes dropped to Negan’s pants and your mouth went dry. Why did that just turn you on so fucking much? Thinking things over, you lifted your stare and saw that Negan’s hazel eyes were staring out at you expectantly. Starting to unhook his belt, Negan made a dramatic expression and held his hand out.

“I can take you right here,” Negan pointed to the table, his thick eyebrows bouncing in amusement. “I don’t think The Saviors would complain much. It’s been a long time since they’ve had a good show.”

“I don’t…” you looked between all The Saviors that were there. There were those that looked uncomfortable with the idea. Such as Gavin, Laura, Dwight and a few others. And then there were those like Simon that looked like he was all in for that idea. “I don’t want to do it like that.”

“No?” Negan frowned, tipping his head from side to side when he started to pull his belt back together. Following that, he pulled his zipper back up and snorted. Dropping down into his chair again, he kicked his feet up on the table and shrugged. “You got me all excited for nothing.”

“I’m…sorry?” you exhaled loudly realizing that everyone’s eyes were still on you. “Can we please just talk alone for a minute? I swear I won’t take up much of your time.”

Silence followed. It seemed like Negan was thinking it over, his dimples sucking in when he gazed over you and shrugged, “I don’t know. Are you gonna make it worth my time?”

“Maybe?” you didn’t know what to say to that and Simon scoffed in disbelief.

“Well what if you bore me? Then it would all be a waste of time,” Negan stammered, waving his hand about in the air dramatically.

“I’ll show you my breasts?” you offered, immediately regretting it when you said it realizing that it probably sounded ridiculous. Why were you suddenly so…forward?

“Deal,” Negan snorted, circling his finger to point at The Saviors and motion for them to leave the room. “I get the feeling she doesn’t want to flash her breasts in front of the rest of you motherfuckers. So if you will, please give us a few moments. I’m not gonna turn down the chance to see a pair of titties.”

God, did he really just refer to your breasts as titties? He was immature as fuck. And yet? You were still attracted to him.

A few of The Saviors were leaving the room, but there were a few stragglers. Specifically Simon who had stopped before he left, “Why do I have to go?”

“I already made the deal Simon. And it didn’t involve you. Everyone get the hell out and close the door behind you,” Negan demanded, hooking his fingers together in his lap. Once the door closed, Negan looked to you expectantly and flashed you a big smile. “So…”

You went to step forward, but Negan made a whistling sound and shook his head. Motioning you to stay where you were, Negan dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip and hummed to himself, “You promised to show me your breasts. You go first so that way you can’t back out of it after we’ve had the conversation that you want.”

“Seriously?” you felt a rush go to your head and you felt kind of embarrassed. You weren’t exactly dressed spectacular and you didn’t even know if Negan would really make you go through with it. With a very dramatic nod, Negan’s eyelids grew heavy and he gave you an expecting glance.

Swallowing down hard, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and Negan held his finger up to stop you, “I’ll tell you when you can cover up.”

Mustering up as much confidence as you could, you started to lift the bottom of your shirt up over your abdomen. Negan’s eyes followed the movement of your shirt and when you got to your bra, you hooked your fingers into that as well. The cool chill of the air around you had you releasing a shuddering breath when you pulled the material up over your body right to the bottom of your neck.

Negan didn’t say anything. His eyes were just gazing upon you and you couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or not. Gradually, a smile tugged at his handsome features and he tipped his head to the side, “That’s a nice pair of tits. They look good on you.”

“Thanks,” you slurred, your pulse leaping in your throat with Negan’s eyes still focused on your body.

“So you want to have sex with me, huh?” Negan questioned, his eyebrows bouncing up and for the first time, his eyes lifted from your bare breasts to connect with yours. “How old are you?”

“I’m in my twenties,” you explained wishing the room was a bit warmer because you could feel your nipples growing hard. Well, you assumed it was from the temperature of the room. But it might have been the fact you were like this in front of Negan and in a weird fashion, it was turning you on.

“Okay,” Negan replied back leaving you to wonder how long he wanted you to stand there like this. “Well your tits are definitely a pair I’d like to play with for a while. So I can’t see your offer being a bad one. My dick is hard now. Do you wanna just fuck right here?”

“Is that what you want?” your eyes lowered down toward his pants in attempts to get a look at his body. It had him snapping his fingers to get you to look back at him with him pointing toward his eyes as if it was offensive you were looking there.

“I would have happily plowed you in front of The Saviors,” Negan reminded you with a half laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “I like when a woman isn’t afraid to tell you what they want. That turns me the fuck on. I never saw you as the type, but that’s okay. I like to be fucking surprised.”

Every word out of Negan’s mouth was annunciated in a very dramatic manner. Hearing that had the room spinning around you, “Tell me what you like.”

“What I like?” you repeated feeling your face flushing over with heat. Would you tell him the truth? You were a virgin. You didn’t know what the hell you liked. Or would you lie?

“Yeah. Sexually,” Negan stammered, shrugging his shoulders when he spoke. “Do you like it rough? Do you like anal? Can I finger your asshole while I fuck you? Is your favorite position face down with your ass in the air? Do you want to be fucked so hard that my balls smack against your clit?”

Your lips parted and it made him snicker. You must have gone flush, “or are you more of a…I want to ride your cock kind of girl? It’s hard to read. Because when I found you, I thought you would be the innocent type. You seemed shy. Then you come in here asking for sex and I don’t know what to think. Do you ask every man that you want to have sex with to sleep with you like that?”

“I uh…” this was it. This was where you had to determine whether you were going to be honest with him or not. “Can I put my shirt down?”

“Not yet. Answer the question,” Negan demanded, his eyes dropping back down toward your breasts again.

“I’ve never had sex,” you answered honestly with Negan’s smile gradually fading. God, you shouldn’t have been honest with him. Forcing himself to look away from you, Negan’s response to your answer made you regret it. “I’m willing to do whatever you want though.”

“Put your shirt down,” Negan demanded and you did as you were told. Silence surrounded you both. Now Negan wouldn’t even look at you. Taking the hint, you nodded and started to head for the door, but he called out to you. “Where are you going? Take a seat.”

Glancing back over your shoulder at Negan, you saw that he was pointing toward the seat that was closest to him at the side of the long table. Obeying, you were careful in the way you slowly lowered yourself down.

“You’re a virgin?” he confirmed with you, but you didn’t know if you wanted to focus on that now since it seemed to turn him off. Well, you were doomed now. Best to be honest. Nodding once had Negan biting down on his bottom lip. “In your twenties?”

Suddenly you felt embarrassed when you looked away from Negan. You said nothing. Yeah. It wasn’t like you were a church girl or someone incredibly innocent, life just didn’t work out for you and you were more so focused on studies and working than you were having a party life.

“And you want me to take your virginity?” Negan pushed further at the subject. You still weren’t looking at him, you just nodded. “Why?”

“I like you,” you answered honestly, your confidence not as much as before with his response to your truth about being a virgin.

“Why?” he asked again. This time he was a bit firmer with his words.

“You’re good looking. I mean, anyone with eyes could see that. I’m very attracted to you,” you explained and as you spoke Negan unhurriedly pulled his legs down from the table. Each foot hit the ground hard with his boots making an echo in the empty room. “And? You saved me. You took me in. You took care of me when no one else did. I almost died and you were my hero.”

Hearing that had Negan’s hazel eyes lifting to yours and his eyes narrowed, “I don’t think you’d hurt me. And if you did? I’d be glad that it was you that it happened with because I don’t want to lose it to someone else. You’re really the first person I’ve had an interest in since the world fell to shit. I like you. A lot. And I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

“I see,” Negan leaned back into his chair and he seemed deep in contemplation. “Yeah. Okay. Tonight after I’m done doing all the shit I have to, I’ll come to your room. Around nightfall. Tomorrow? You’ll no longer be a virgin. So you won’t have that stigma hanging around your head.”

“Tonight?” you felt excited that he said yes. Giving you a small nod had you standing up from the bed. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Negan called out when you headed to the door. You knew that if it was tonight that he wanted to do it, you would have to prepare for things. Standing up from where he was seated, Negan undid the zipper of his leather jacket. Reaching for the bottom of the white shirt he was wearing, he lifted his shirt up right under his chest revealing his naked torso to you. “Since you showed me yours, I figured I would show you mine. Just to help carry you over for tonight.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the amused expression that was over Negan’s features with his nose wrinkling. Taking a good look over his torso, you knew that you would much rather see it up close since you spotted the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle.

“Those look good on you,” you couldn’t help but mirror what he said eliciting a snort from Negan who gave a firm nod. “I like what I see.”

“Thank you,” Negan looked down over his abdomen and then slowly lifted his head to give you a wink. “I’m proud of them. So I’m glad that you like them.”

“You can lower your shirt now,” you smirked making Negan laugh and give you a single nod.

“Yes ma’am,” Negan grumbled under his breath and it took your breath away. Lowering his shirt, Negan gave you a single wink and then dropped back down into his chair. “You can have The Saviors come back in by the way.”

“How am I going to find all of them?” you reached for the door wondering where each of them would go.

“Oh honey, they never left,” Negan stressed to you leaving you to open the door. Upon opening the door, you felt a rush of frustration flooding your veins seeing that every single one of them had been pressed up against the door or near in trying to listen in on what was happening. Everyone except for Dwight and Laura that was. Dwight was probably irritated and Laura was just trying to give you your space.

“Nice,” you growled under your breath, pushing through them to get out of the office. Why weren’t you surprised at all by that?

A mixture of fear and excitement flooded through your veins. You really didn’t have anything spectacular in terms of clothes, so you spent the points you did have to get a really nice set of lingerie for Negan that you hoped he’d like. The colors you had focused on were red and black, but ultimately went with the black since that’s what Negan put his wives in. You’d have to not eat very well for the next few days, but you wanted to make him happy. You had also grabbed a pair of leather cuffs. The person you got them from probably thought you were a bit of a freak, but with what you heard about Negan? You wanted to be prepared and give him what he wanted. You wanted to make a good impression. You showered, used the perfume that you still had from your personal items when you came here and then put on the lingerie.  

At nightfall, you waited, laid stretched out on the bed waiting for Negan. Again, you wanted to be sexy for Negan. Give him a reason to appreciate you and not regret agreeing to this whole thing. It was a while after nightfall by the time you heard a knock at your door. You had gotten nervous that he didn’t want to do this whole thing after he considered it.

Curling your arms behind your head, you cleared your throat and did your best to pose sexy as you beckoned him into your room. As the door opened, Negan’s expression became more so amused when he entered your bedroom seeing the way you were.

“Wow,” he snickered, closing the door behind him and tipping his head to the side. “Did you have that?”

“I bought it today for you with the points that I earned,” you explained arching your back up attempting to bring attention to your breasts. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Negan muttered, sucking on his bottom lip and moving to the bottom of the bed. Gazing you over, he looked beside the bed and saw the leather cuffs that were sitting on the nightstand. “What are those?”

“I got those too,” you pulled yourself up unhurriedly into a seated position. Reaching for the cuffs, you handed them to Negan who accepted them and looked them over with a smirk. “People gossip and say things, you know? So I figured you’d like those.”

“People gossip?” Negan repeated, sitting down on the edge of the bed spinning the handcuffs around his finger. Sliding in closer to Negan, you started to caress at his shoulders eliciting a heavy exhale to fall from his lips. “What do the people say?”

“It depends on who you ask,” you responded, doing your best to get Negan to relax. Depositing a kiss over the side of his neck had a sharp exhale falling from his lips. Dragging your hands across his chest had him leaning further back into you. Using that moment, you pushed your hands down over his abdomen and he groaned out. Fuck, that was actually really hot. “Someone mentioned you being really…big.”

Brazenly, you dropped your hand to the center of Negan’s pants palming in over his pants. It had a raspy moan following and it had chills running down your spine that you could draw something that sexy out of a man you were this attracted to.

Surprise filled your body with Negan’s fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you from touching him, “Does a big dick really matter to a virgin?”

Negan looked over his shoulder to connect his eyes with yours and you shrugged, “I imagine it feels better.”

“You’re a virgin. I hate to break it to you, but it will hurt the first time a cock goes inside of you. Whether it’s big or average sized. Depending on the person you’re with, it’s either gonna hurt a lot or it’s gonna be uncomfortable until you start to get used to it and it feels good. You’re gonna need someone to relax you. Prepare you and it feels like you just want me to fuck the shit outta you.”

Standing up from the bed, Negan shoved his hands into his pockets after tossing the cuffs onto the bed, “Where in the porn hub loving instructional guide did you come up with this stuff?”

A laugh fell from Negan’s throat and you felt embarrassed again. You didn’t know whether you should cover up or not as you slid back on the bed, “Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the lingerie, but whatever you spent on this I’ll make sure they give you back the points. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be about making me happy. It should be about making you comfortable and giving you an experience that isn’t a terrible one. Having me cuff you and fuck you raw is not gonna be the optimal experience. It may be on porn hub or in those racy romance novels, but it’s not realistic. Is that what you really think I’m like?”

“Can you blame me after the way you talked earlier?” you reminded him of how he talked to you before you revealed to him that you were a virgin. “You sounded like someone right out of a porno asking me what I liked.”

“Well that’s when I thought you were a little slutty,” Negan defended himself, placing his hand over the center of his chest. “But you’re not. Not that I would have a problem with anyone being slutty. I mean, I have no right to judge. Slutty can be sexy, but you’re also sexy the way that you are.”

“I’m confused,” you announced, your heart racing at the idea of what he was saying. “So do you want to have sex or not?”

“Just put your clothes on,” Negan ordered, spinning his finger around in a circle. It had you confused and somewhat disappointed. “We’re still gonna have sex, but not like this. Not like something right out of a porno.”

Getting up, you headed over toward your dresser, but Negan cleared his throat, “You can leave the lingerie on underneath though. I do…I do actually really like those.”

Well at least that was a success. Getting dressed in a sundress that you had, you wanted to make sure that you were wearing as little as possible for Negan to take off when the time came. Holding his hand out for you as you approached, you accepted Negan’s hand and were surprised by his actions. This was not the man that the women gossiped about in The Sanctuary. Chivalry actually existed in some fashion with Negan.  

Leading you out of your room, Negan led you to the stairs at The Sanctuary which surprised you since you knew that Negan’s room was on the same level as yours. Following Negan carefully up the steps, you wanted to ask questions, but you didn’t. Once he reached the roof, Negan pushed open the door to reveal that there was a bonfire that he had set up with two chairs not too far away from it.

“A night out under the stars?” you looked to Negan who flashed you a big cheesy smile while he held the door open for you.

“After you my dear,” Negan growled, holding his hand out and motioning you toward the area that was set up. Once he closed the door behind him, Negan held his hand out to you leading you over toward the area to sit down. He made sure you sat first before taking a seat beside you. “It’s a little chilly, but the sky is full of stars and I thought maybe you would want to talk first.”

“Suddenly I regret wearing this dress,” you confessed with a tiny laugh and it had Negan looking you over. There was a chill in the air and if you would have known you may have grabbed a longer shirt to throw over the dress. Getting up from his seat, Negan started to shimmy out of his leather jacket and you immediately shook your head when he motioned you to stand up. “No, I couldn’t…”

“You can and you will,” Negan commented firmly. By the expression on his face, you knew what he wanted, so you gave it to him. Accepting the gesture, you allowed him to help you put the jacket on you before lowering down. Negan waited for you to sit before he sat himself. Pulling the jacket in closer to you, you actually enjoyed the way that it smelled because it smelled clean and fresh. Also the scent of whatever cologne he wore was lingering over the jacket and it was amazing. You hadn’t really been this up close and personal to Negan to be able to smell him before. “Better?”

“Much,” you nodded your head with Negan leaning back and looking up toward the sky. “You’re not what I thought you were.”

“I’m probably exactly who you think I am, but there are just other parts to me that people don’t take the time to know,” Negan huffed, dropping his head dramatically and turning it to look at you. “I know it’s my own fault, but I’m not the kind of guy that finds out someone is a virgin and then I fucking destroy their pussy so they never enjoy sex again.”

It made you smile to hear Negan talking like that, “I am curious what people say about me though. Who are you hearing stuff from?”

“Women gossip,” you explained, sliding your chair in closer to the fire. You weren’t going to give out names, but then again, you really didn’t know their names. “I’ve heard people say you are this sex fiend that will fuck anything and everything that moves. That your wives are your sex slaves that you come and grab whenever you’re horny and want to fuck.”

A deep rumble of a laugh fell from Negan’s throat, his fingers grasping tightly to the edges of the chair that he was seated in, “They are a status symbol.”

“Come again,” you exhaled loudly with Negan’s eyebrows bouncing up.

“I don’t have sex with them. I mean, I’ve had sex with a few of them, but it wasn’t the whole you’re my sex slave and I’m coming to pick you today thing you just said,” Negan waved his hand about, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “I’m okay with people thinking that though. When you think of a man in power, a king, all of them had lots of wives. It’s a status symbol. People look up to you and admire you. Want to be like you. So they listen, get into line having hopes of being like you one day if you take them under your wing.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, surprised to hear him talking like that. “That’s kind of lame, you know that right?”

“I’m a man, I’m kind of lame,” Negan stressed with a rumbling laugh, shaking his head when he reached out for one of the things that was set up beside his chair.

“Which ones?” you wondered getting Negan to look back at you. “Which ones have you slept with?”

“You really wanna know that?” Negan stammered, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. When you nodded, he sat back and you realized that he had the ingredients to make smores in his hands. “Well, before I was here, I was in a group of people. Dwight and Sherry were part of that group. And the two of us had an affair. Although, sex with her lately is not really a thing. She’s hot, but her attitude sucks. I think she likes having the power that comes with being a wife. And I let her have it. I don’t really know why. And then I had sex with Frankie. Before she was a wife, I was really into the whole she was a massage therapist thing. I wanted a massage, an innocent one at first and she just kind of crawled on top of me and…”

“I can picture the rest,” you held your hand up to stop him and it made Negan snort. “Then why are you so…I don’t know? Protective and dickish about them? People think you abuse them. Rape them by coercion.”

“You can’t rape someone if you aren’t fucking them,” Negan responded an annoyed breath escaping his throat. “I don’t rape people. If someone doesn’t want to have sex with me, they don’t. When I ask these women to be my wives, I’m giving them special treatment. They receive things that most people don’t. They don’t have to work for it. They don’t have to fuck me. They just have to sit there and look pretty. Do what I ask. No one is hurting them. I’ve never laid a finger on them. And I’m certainly not fucking them against their will. Tonya, I have an appreciation for a professional chef. Amber, she wanted favors and you know that people would find a girl like Amber beautiful. Frankie, my back is shit. There is a trait each one of them has that I appreciate having in my back pocket and it’s not their lady bits.”

“I see,” you watched while Negan put together a smore. You saw him unwrapping a peanut butter cup and he went to put it on the smore before thinking twice.

“Are you allergic?” Negan inquired, pointing to it. Shaking your head had him letting out a thankful breath before continuing to put together his version of a smore. “Don’t go telling people that I’m not as bad as I seem, okay?”

“Deal,” you snickered, watching as he worked to roast the marshmallow over the fire. “Why didn’t you make me one of your wives?”

“Sorry?” Negan didn’t seem to be too focused on what you were asking working to put together a smore. Handing it out to you, he gave you another big smile as you accepted it from him. With the melted marshmallow over his fingers, he sucked at the tips of them and sighed.

“Why didn’t you make me one of your wives?” you repeated your question and it seemed to make Negan nervous when he started to construct his smore. “Am I not appealing to you?”

“I can find something attractive in pretty much anyone, I’m not particular,” Negan informed you with a long exhale, his eyes gazing over you in a moment of longing. “But I do find you very attractive. So it has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what did it have to do with?” you inquired since you had felt kind of worried about the whole thing to begin with.

“I like you,” Negan answered, his lips parting after he started to roast his marshmallow. “I don’t often get to be someone’s hero. The way you looked at me when I brought you here? It’s been a long time since someone looked at me in a positive light. I think I’m helping people here, but you? I actually did protect you. I kept you safe. You wouldn’t look at me like that anymore if I made you one of the wives. The less you knew about me, the better because the more you knew me the higher the chance that you might start to hate me.”

That took your breath away. In that moment you wanted to do nothing more than to kiss him. Grasping at Negan’s jaw, you pulled him in toward you and brought your lips together. Your quickness surprised him, but he didn’t turn away the kiss. No, he was welcoming to it. Leaning in closer to you over the arm of the chair. You let it linger with Negan turning it into small kisses at your bottom lip.

As you separated, Negan dragged his thumb across your bottom lip with a hum, “I don’t want the way you look at me to change.”

“It won’t,” you hushed him, turning in to press a kiss over his pulse point.

“You can’t promise that,” Negan stated with a frown, using his free hand to sweep his fingers down over your jawline. “I’m not a good man. I will let you down. The further you’re away from me, the better.”

“I’d rather be let down than to never share moments with you,” you explained with a sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation of his rough fingertips tracing over your features. Another sweet, delicate kiss was pressed at your lips before Negan sat back in his chair again. Taking a bite of your smores, you hummed and gave a nod. “I like the addition of the peanut butter cups.”

“I really like peanut butter,” Negan confessed taking a big bite of his sweet treat that he had made for himself. “I’m sorry for making you flash me your tits earlier.”

“I offered,” you couldn’t help but laugh, finishing off your snack with Negan chuckling underneath his breath. “Plus, you flashed me your tits so I think we’re equal.”

“It’s not the same,” Negan insisted with an amused rumble, outstretching his hand to loosely hook his fingers with yours. “I liked that it made you smile though.”

The two of you continued to talk about random odds and ends with Negan getting to learn more about you before you both agreed to leave. Negan didn’t say much as he led you down the stairs. When you passed your room, you knew that Negan was leading you to his bedroom and that excited you. Pushing open the door, Negan looked inside as if to make sure something was right before allowing you in.

Stepping into his bedroom took your breath away. The only light that filtered through the room was that of many candles that had been lit. At the center of the bed were a rose pedals and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket on the nightstand.

“You slammed me for my porn hub fantasy, but this is something right out of a cheesy romance film,” you commented, sucking in a sharp breath of air with Negan moving in behind you to place his hands in over your hips. The roughness of his short beard tickled at the side of your neck with his lips descending over your flesh.

“Shut up, you fucking love it,” Negan chuckled against your neck and it sent chills down your spine. “Losing your virginity like this is so much better than what you thought you needed to do.”

“Unless we burn down the place,” you teased, turning in Negan’s arms to tip up on your toes to meet him in a passionate sweep that had you purring against his perfect lips. Pushing his fingers up underneath his leather jacket, Negan let it drop at your feet. Palming down over your arms, Negan took his time to trace over your body having you a shuddering mess by the time his hands met yours to hook your fingers together.

Pulling you close, Negan allowed your head to rest at the center of his chest where you listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way it sounded. It made you feel comfortable and in his arms you felt safe.

Soft strokes of Negan’s fingers were felt at the back of your head before tracing down over the lengths of your back. He was doing what he could to soothe and comfort you. Locking his eyes with yours, Negan started to work your dress up over your body. Helping him get it off, you felt your body tremoring once you were standing before him in your lingerie again.

Taking the initiative, you shakily reached out to grab the bottom of Negan’s white t-shirt. Raising it up his body, you stopped when you reached his arms and he gave you a weak smile. Lifting his arms up, he helped you get the perfectly clean shirt from his body where you dropped it beside your dress. Closing the distance, you flattened your palms out over the center of Negan’s chest. Sliding them out toward his shoulders had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. This gave you time to appreciate his body and actually get to look at it. Tracing over the tattoo that was on his pectoral muscle, you couldn’t help but be in awe of his body. You actually appreciated the hidden tattoos that you didn’t know were there originally.

“I’m not the typical romance novel lover,” Negan informed you with a bob of his head and you smirked. Dragging your fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his chest down lower toward his navel and back again had his breathing growing loud.

“You’re my perfect version,” you assured him, sweeping your fingers over the soft fleshy part of his abdomen just beneath his bellybutton.

“You take my breath away,” Negan reached for your hand to bring it up over the center of his chest. Grasping it tightly, Negan closed the distance between the two of you and swallowed down hard. Bringing your lips together again, you parted your lips allowing his tongue to brush in against yours. The taste of the sweet snack lingered and it made you hum.

“You taste sweet,” you muttered against his lips which made him smile. Working your hands down, you started to pull apart the belt in Negan’s pants. Not rushing, you knew you wanted to drag this out. Negan wanted the same thing. By the time you got his pants undone, you slid your fingers up over Negan’s lower abdomen toward his sides and then came to a stop at his lower back. Pushing into the material had it falling to his ankles. Sliding your palms over his small bottom had him groaning out with you grasping firmly to it.

“Come here,” Negan growled, hooking his arms around you to have you falling in against his chest. Sliding his hands down over your back toward your bottom, he did a similar movement as you, testing the flesh in his large palms. “We match.”

Stealing a glance between the two of you, you noticed from the light that was there that he was wearing black boxer briefs. Giving him a nod, you began to press kisses over his jawline, down over his neck and toward the center of his chest.

“No,” Negan slurred, reaching for you and carefully urging you back up to him. Managing to kick out of his boots and swiftly pull off his socks, Negan led you over toward the bed and lowered you down at the center of it. “I want this to be perfect for you. There is not a lot of that in the world anymore.”

“Perfect is having you Negan,” you stressed to him how you felt and it genuinely made him smile. Not an arrogant smile like you were used to. One that expressed a sense of feeling good about himself.

“Do you want any champagne?” Negan wondered eliciting a giggle from you as he crawled in over you. “What?”

“Not now. I just want you,” you explained, caressing up over his chest toward his shoulders to hook your hands behind his neck. It drew him to you with you stealing a desperate kiss from his lips. Carefully laying in beside you, Negan continued to kiss you with his fingers caressing up over your thigh.

For a while the two of you just kissed. Getting used to one another. And you liked it. Even if this was all you got today, you didn’t think you would be disappointed. The way that Negan touched you and made you feel like the center of his world was phenomenal. It’s not what you expected from Negan, but you were happy with this surprise.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan breathed against your lips, his fingers trailing up from your navel up between the valley of your breasts. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan smiled and urged you to lift up slightly so he could reach around you to unhook your bra. As soon as the material parted, you lowered back down to the bed letting Negan tug at the material. Getting it down your arms, he dropped it beside the bed and then gave you a smile. Unhurriedly, he slid his palm across the underside of your breasts. Cupping softly at one of them, Negan kissed faintly at your bottom lip and hummed. When his thumb ran across your nipple, you arched up into his touch. The sensation swept circles around it bringing it to a hard nub. Chills ran down your spine, your lips parted and a whimpering sound escaped your throat. “Are you okay?”

Giving Negan a nod, you knew that you were nervous, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Lowering down, Negan started to pepper kisses at your jawline, down over your neck and toward your collarbone. Chills flooded through your body, soft pants escaping you while you caressed at the back of Negan’s head. Moving in over you, Negan braced his weight to keep you comfortable as he started to press kisses between your breasts. Kissing everywhere had you arching up toward him and by the time his mouth covered your breast you moaned out. Glancing up at you with his hazel eyes, Negan made sure you were comfortable while his mouth and tongue pampered that breast before moving to the other.

Stroking down over Negan’s long back and then back up again, you were in total awe of Negan. It seemed like he was enjoying himself while he pampered your breasts with kisses. With a final slurping sound, Negan lifted his head and his eyes looked beyond you to the bucket of ice that was holding the champagne. Reaching out, he grabbed a piece of ice and you gasped when a few drops of the water covered your flesh.

“Cold?” he smirked, the bridge of his nose wrinkling when you gave a nod. Sucking in a sharp breath, you prepared yourself when Negan brought down his hand to lightly trace shapes over your flesh with the piece of ice he was holding. Keeping his eyes hooked on yours, Negan traced the ice over your nipple having you cry out with the sensation. A wolfish smile tugged at his lips when he pulled the ice away. Covering your breast with his mouth allowed a vast contrast between the cold and the warmth of his tongue. Slurping at your flesh, Negan repeated the motion on your other breast having you a whimpering mess beneath him. Nipping at your skin, Negan hummed and started to trace shapes down over your ribcage toward your belly button. “Good girl.”

Trembling beneath Negan, your lips parted with Negan returning what was left of the ice. Placing his hand back over your lower abdomen, Negan kept his eyes locked on yours when he started to push it down between your thighs. Your lips parted, a small whimper escaping you when he fully palmed in over your warmth.

Dropping your head to watch him caressing at your body had your heart hammering inside of your chest, but Negan hushed you and urged you to look back to him, “I want you to keep looking at me. Don’t watch that.”

So you obeyed. You locked your eyes with his, a gasp escaping you when he lifted his hand for a moment to press his fingers beneath your black panties that you had specifically worn for him. The direct contact of his rough fingertips with your sensitive flesh had your hips arching up toward him. There was something about the way that Negan looked at you that made you feel like the only person in the world in that moment and you loved the feelings it brought forth from inside of you.

“If you ever get uncomfortable at any point tonight, just let me know and we’ll stop,” Negan instructed, his fingers tracing slowly up over the lengths of your sex and it had you cooing out. Nodding, you knew that you weren’t going to be asking him to stop regardless of how things went tonight. You wanted this and you wanted this bad. Nothing was going to stop you from having it. Getting up to his knees, Negan hooked his fingers into your panties, unhurriedly tugging them down your body. Even then, he never took his eyes off yours wanting to watch your every reaction to things. Dropping your panties beside the bed, Negan returned to caress at your calf muscle up toward your thigh. “You’re fucking perfect. Y’know that?”

“I’m happy with anything as long as I’m yours,” you knew that sounded probably very dramatic, but you didn’t care. Plus, he seemed to enjoy the answer you gave him when he lowered back closer to you to steal another lingering, passionate kiss from your lips that progressed into a dominant one with his tongue brushing against yours.

“Can I kiss you somewhere else?” Negan slurred against your flesh. The question alone made you shake and you gave him another nod. Peppering kisses over your body again, he started at the side of your neck, over your chest and toward your lower abdomen. This time he went beyond down over your hip, toward your thigh and near the inside of your knee while he pushed at your thighs to give himself enough room to lower down onto his stomach. With him so close to the most personal parts of your body, you felt nervous. This was everything you wanted and more, but this was definitely a first for you. “Just relax. I’m a professional.”

The smile Negan gave you took your breath away with him urging your thighs up. He lowered himself between them. Wet kisses started at the inside of your thigh and he was slow to progress them toward your sex. With the first drag of his tongue across your folds, it had you shaking. Occasionally Negan would lift his eyes to watch your reaction to things as he would drag his tongue up and then down. Repeating the movements until his lips latched faintly to your clit suckling at the flesh.

“Negan,” you purred out his name, your hand lowering to brush your fingers through his hair. Humming out against your body, Negan’s tongue circled your sensitive bundle of nerves and it had your heart hammering inside of your chest. Biting down on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while he pleasured you. The short stubble of his beard added to the friction against your flesh and you were addicted to the feeling. Involuntarily, your hips rocked against him very much enjoying the way it felt having him kissing, suckling and licking at your flesh.

“Good?” Negan leaned back with a wet sound, dragging his tongue out across his lips releasing a moan himself at the way you tasted. You couldn’t form words. That was pretty much impossible, so you gave him another nod. It made him smile before lowering back down to continue what he was doing. The amount of pressure he was using with his mouth had your heart hammering inside of your chest and you dropped your head back. Your thighs were shaking against Negan and you felt him reaching for your hands to hook his fingers with yours. Moaning out, your eyes slammed shut. The sound of Negan groaning against your flesh added to the sensation with you shaking further against him. Squeezing tighter at Negan’s fingers, you couldn’t believe how good it actually felt. “That’s it.”

Lifting your head, your breathing was broken with the room spinning around you. Negan had just brought you to your first orgasm and it was incredible. Breath taking. But he wasn’t done. His right hand pulled from yours, his fingers tracing lines from your entrance to your clit before back again. Teasing his fingertips at your entrance, Negan lifted his eyes up to watch you when his index finger sank into you. Just like everything else, this was slow drawing you to coo out and moan out his name. His eyelids grew heavy with want, his lips parting and a muscle flexing in his jaw with how tight you were from this alone. Starting off slow, he started to finger you watching your every reaction to it. Whining out when he added a second finger made him moan before he lowered his head again to start suckling at your clit to add to the sensation of him fingering you.

Flicks of his tongue had your hips rocking against him and the steady pace of his fingers thrusting into you felt like nothing you had ever experienced before. This was amazing and you loved every bit of it. The sounds he was drawing out from within you were loud and seemed to make him moan against your sensitive flesh while he pleasured you. You didn’t know if you should be embarrassed from how loud you were being, but he didn’t seem to mind.

There was a certain spot inside of you that as soon as Negan kept caressing at it with his fingertips, it had you a shaking mess beneath him. Once you started reacting a certain way? Negan picked up on it immediately and continued at the same tempo he had set with his fingers. Switching between suckling and licking at your clit.

“Negan, I feel like I’m going to…” before you could say anything else, your hips shakily pulled up and away from him. Groaning out, Negan still kept his fingers wrapped around your thighs while you tremored against him. Your heart felt like it was about to pound right out of your chest. It was the closest you felt to passing out with your thighs tremoring. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Negan snickered, trailing kisses up over your inner thigh and toward your hip when he crawled back in over you. “That’s supposed to happen. It’s a sign of a job well done. Not every man can make you do that and not every woman has that kind of orgasm.”

“Fuck,” you lifted your head to look between the two of you trying to catch your breath. “That was amazing.”

“I know,” Negan nipped at your jawline, leaving tiny bites along your flesh. Grabbing a faint hold of your neck, Negan tipped your head back and it made you wince. The next bite he placed over your neck would leave a mark but you didn’t care considering you wanted to be his. And if you had something that proved it? Even better.

“I want you,” you panted with him tipping his head back to stare out at you. “I’ve never wanted something more.”

Lazily getting up to his knees, Negan held his hands out in the air and it made your throat go dry. His breathing was strong, showing the lines of his abdomen. Your attention fell to the v-line over his hips that led to the top of his black boxer briefs and it made your mouth water at the sight of him.

“Then have me,” Negan offered, his hazel eyes watching you closely when you lifted up on your hands. It was hard because you were still shaking pretty much everywhere. Caressing up over his sides, you started to pepper kisses at his lower abdomen appreciating that he stroked at the back of your head while you kissed over his slender form. Curling your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, you pulled softly at it. Not wanting to rush, your lips followed the movement of the material down over his body which had him moaning out. When you reached the base of his cock, you tipped your head back and stared up at him. With his free hand, he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. Giving a final tug had his boxer briefs pulling to his thighs with his erection bouncing free from behind the constrictive material.

“Fuck,” you leaned further back to gaze over Negan’s length, stealing a look up at him. “I thought you said you were average, not big.”

“I never said that,” Negan slurred, dropping his free hand to stroke at his rigid length letting out a tense breath. “I said it didn’t make sense for you to want to have a big dick for your first time. I thought that might have been the only reason you picked me. Now I know otherwise. Don’t let it scare you. I wouldn’t hurt you. It’s above average, but I know what I’m doing.”

Shakily reaching out, your hand replaced his to stroke at his member in slow, unhurried movements. It had his head dropping back, the vein at the side of his neck slightly bulging and you smiled, “It’s thick.”

“I know,” Negan commented, lowering his head back down to sweep his thumb over your jawline. There was an amused expression over his features when a big, toothy smile pressed in over his lips. Taking initiative, you got up on your knees and heard his breathing grow uneven. At first, you pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses at his hips until bringing your lips to the base of Negan’s cock to start there. Peppering kisses down the length of his shaft toward the tip had him bouncing his hips forward toward you. “You’re just jumping in?”

“You’ll let me know if you don’t like something,” you breathed against his sensitive flesh having him shake against you with the way your words vibrated against his cock. Flattening your tongue out against his flesh, you licked at his body like he was your own personal lollipop and his moans were glorious. You traced at the prominent veins, circled the ridges over the tip and started to kiss at the underside where the head and the shaft met.

“That’s good,” Negan groaned, his fingers cradling the back of your head when you dropped your head back to look up at him. “Are you okay with this?”

“Very much so,” you whispered licking your lips when Negan firmly curled his fingers around his girthy length to bring the tip to your wet lips. First, you started to kiss at the tip eliciting the tiniest of moans from Negan’s throat, but you loved the way it sounded. Each caress of your mouth over his manhood grew wetter until you finally took him between your lips. Lapping at the tip had him sucking in sharp breaths of air, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat.

“Fuck,” he hissed out allowing you to take your time with things since this was all new for you. Once you started to lower your head down taking his length further into your mouth, he helped aid your movements. They were slow at first. Wanting to experience this in the best of ways, you did what seemed to have Negan moaning out. Those were what had this whole thing worth it. You had the leader of The Sanctuary in the palm of your hand dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock when you’d pull your head back before dropping forward again. Wet sounds filled the air with you pleasuring him, leaving you thankful that he was there to help your movements. “Okay…you have to stop…”

With a wet popping sound he had you pull your mouth from him. Negan was panting, his head shaking when he started to wiggle out of the material of his boxer briefs. Kicking out of them, Negan gave you a look with your lips wet and your eyes full of lust and want, “I’m going to come if you keep giving me a blowjob and who knows if I can make this good for you.”

Nodding your head, you allowed him to lead you back against the bed with a nervous sound when Negan moved in over you. Looking between the two of you, you stole another look at Negan’s cock and it made you breathless, “Don’t overthink it.”

Dropping his hand between your thighs again, you felt his fingers pushing back inside of you working to have you relax. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan wanted to make sure that you were focused on him and not the act.

“You’re so wet that we aren’t going to have a problem,” he insisted pulling his fingers from your body. Mewling out at the loss of contact, Negan brought his fingers up to lick at the tips of them before starting to stroke at his cock again. The warmth of his body pressed against yours felt amazing. You could hardly catch your breath with Negan’s eyes locked on yours. “Just let me know if you want me to stop.”

Bracing his weight on his left hand, Negan pressed his forehead to yours. Pressing his hips forward, he led his tip to your entrance and it had you sucking in a sharp breath of air, “It’s not going to feel great at first, but I’ll take my time, okay? I know it’s thick, so we’re not gonna rush it.”

The tip was nestled at your entrance with Negan holding back as much as he could from just going forward with everything. Pushing forward, Negan focused on you when the bulbous tip pressed at your tight hole. It had your lips parting, your eyebrows tensing and when he did get the tip in the both of you moaned in unison. Looking for your hand, Negan hooked his fingers with yours and pressed it to the bed keeping his weight braced on his left arm. Watching so intensely had Negan swallowing down hard when he slowly moved a little more allowing you to take more of him.

The sensation was new, slightly uncomfortable with the fullness that you were feeling as he pushed forward just a small bit more, “Negan…”

“It’s okay,” he hushed you, hovering his lips over yours. The lines in his forehead growing when he stole a quick look between you but forced himself to look up. “Fucking fuck…”

“Please,” you whined wondering if the agonizingly slow movements were really delaying the inevitable. Giving you a nod, he rolled his hips in closer to you sinking a significant amount of himself into your sex. Your tight walls clung to him and a raspy moan escaped his lips. Holding tightly to Negan, you buried your nose against the side of his neck and kissed there. Right now it really was just a full, stretching feeling, but knowing that it was Negan inside of you made it worth the slight amount of pain. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” Negan tipped his head back, wanting to keep his eyes on yours when he filled you completely. It had your head tipping back into the pillows and he shakily released your hand. Palming in over the side of your face, Negan laid over you and you noticed that he seemed incredibly focused as well. With a moan, his long eyelashes fluttered to a close and he cussed under his breath. “I’m trying so hard to make this perfect for you.”

“It is,” you assured him, brushing your fingers through his dark hair appreciating that he was focused solely on you.

“You’re so fucking tight and I don’t…” Negan pressed his forehead to yours, stroking his thumb over your jawline. Gathering himself, Negan brought your lips together in a lingering kiss that had you eagerly meeting him. Each caress had you relaxing beneath him and when his hips pulled back, you were almost worried that he was going to leave, but you whimpered when he slowly pushed his hips back up toward you. It had you clinging to him, hooking your arms around his shoulders. It seemed like he wanted to desperately keep kissing you through this, his hips gradually building speed with every thrust he made inside of you. Your nails bit at his shoulders having him dropping his head back, his eyes closing tightly when he moaned. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

Leading him back to your mouth, the two of you kissed with winces starting to fall from your lips when the strength of his thrusts started to grow. Pressing his right hand between the two of you, Negan’s fingers connected with your clit caressing at your body in tempo with his thrusts. That extra added stimulation had you moaning out against his lips. That was when things started to feel better. You still felt full, but it started feeling exceedingly better with your hips arching up to meet every single one of his thrusts. Whimpering against his lips, you started to feel a fire burning at your belly but Negan was quick to cover your mouth with kisses again.

“Negan,” you whined noticing that you were starting to tremor beneath him. Smacking up harder against you, every plunge of Negan’s cock into your warmth had you crying out at the side of his neck. Kissing at his neck, you gasped when you clung to Negan as he undoubtedly got you to another orgasm. Pausing his movements, Negan’s moans were raspy with your tight walls contracting and relaxing around his body. Pulling his hips back and away from you allowed his cock to pull from you fully for the first time and you whimpered. It didn’t feel right not having him inside of you, but Negan laid in beside you helping you turn to face him. Bringing your bodies closer together, your legs tangled to. Negan’s hands settled at your sides helping to bring your thigh up over his hip.

“You feel okay?” Negan confirmed with you, his left hand sliding up over your side toward your neck to get you to look at him.

With a smile you nodded, reaching between you to curl your fingers loosely around Negan’s girthy length to stroke at it. Lifting your hips enough, you led his cock to your entrance again lowering them once you felt comfortable enough. A muscle in Negan’s jaw flexed, his lips parting to release a moan when you took him into you with a fluid movement.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you cried out with him kissing at the side of your neck, his palm lowering to caress at your ass. His hips started rolling up toward yours and you pressed in closer to him. In this position, your movements weren’t as even, but it still felt good being wrapped up in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact felt amazing.

“Negan,” you purred out his name with his fingers curling around your neck giving it a tiny squeeze. His eyelids were heavy with lust, his moans matching yours with your movements.

“Who do you belong to?” Negan slurred, nipping at your jawline. It had you wincing, but you liked the way he held onto you.

“Negan,” you said what you knew he wanted and it made him smile. Pushing at his chest hard enough got him to roll onto his back when you took your time to crawl in over him. You wasted no time in reaching between the two of you to lead him back inside of you and the moan he let out was so sexy that it had chills running down your spine.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll last,” Negan informed you, his hands settling at your hips with you getting more comfortable over him. Rocking forward, you raised your hips up to the tip and then lowered back down. Testing your positioning and the speeds, you found what felt the best. Doing your best to rock over his erection in more confident movements. His hands caressed up over your back and toward your breasts palming at them while you bounced yourself over his body. “Fuck…”

“Do you like the way my tight virgin pussy feels?” hearing you say that elicited the best moan from Negan thus far showing that he liked you dirty talking with him. Pulling himself into a seated position, he wrapped his arms around you helping you to roll your hips over his length.

“So fucking much,” Negan slurred against your lips between wet kisses that you were both frantic to have. Winces fell from both your throats. Having Negan angle your body a different way had that same familiar feeling he had drawn out from inside of you earlier when he was fingering you. Wanting to have that feeling again, you put forth more strength with him biting at your bottom lip giving it a tiny tug. “Go on honey. Do it for daddy.”

Negan’s right hand fell to your lower back, his left hand curling around the back of your neck while you firmly rocked your hips to his. Whimpering out, you pulled your hips from his and heard him moaning out when his cock pulled from your body. It was another earth-shattering orgasm, that was short lived when he rolled you back over onto your back. Smacking his hips forward against yours, Negan’s thrusts were fast and you knew that he was searching for that same kind of release.

Hooking your arms around him, your hands pawed at his back when he pressed his forehead to yours and his movements started to falter. Winces fell from his parted lips, the throbbing of his cock inside of you alerting you that he was reaching his orgasm. It was a strange feeling, but you clung to him wanting him to be close to you.

“Fucking hell,” Negan panted, lowering in over you. Small movements of his hips continued until he groaned against your lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you snickered, stroking your fingers through his wet hair. Lifting his head, Negan’s hazel eyes looked worried and you dragged your hand down over the side of his face. “That was perfect.”

“I could have lasted longer,” Negan admitted, his brow line creasing. “I just haven’t been with a lot of virgins. And I was rock hard for a long time before we started…”

“It felt like a good length to me,” you were weak, enjoying the weight of him over you. Everything was sore, but from the orgasms that he gave you, you were more than happy.

“It wasn’t as long as you think it was,” Negan snickered, lifting up to meet your lips in a passionate sweep. Pressing his forehead to yours again, Negan smiled and shook his head. “So you’re happy?”

“Very,” you assured him, caressing your fingers over his freckle covered shoulders.

“That’s all that matters,” Negan hummed, adjusting his hips while he grew soft inside of you. “I uh…I haven’t slept with a lot of virgins. I was afraid of hurting you.”

“I mean I hurt,” you confessed, looking between the two of you and he did the same. “But I wouldn’t turn down this hurt if it was offered again.”

“You’ve already been through the worst of it,” Negan stammered, his hand palming in over the side of your face with his thumb sweeping against your cheek. “It won’t hurt like that again unless you’re with an asshole who is intending to hurt you.”

“As I said,” you whispered, stroking your fingers through Negan’s wet hair having his eyes connecting with yours. “I belong to you. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I don’t want you to want anyone else either,” Negan confessed, his words vibrating against your lips when he cuddled in closer to you.

“Then we will have to find a way to make it work,” you announced wondering what the hell was going to happen from here on out. Negan explained to you why he didn’t want you to be a wife. But now you knew that you were addicted to him and you wanted to be endlessly his from here on out. And nothing would change that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

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@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[ylangelegy]

haven't we met? ♾️ minghao x reader.

“wherever you are in the world, i swear i'll find you again.” # day one of (the)8 days of minghao.

☆ includes: mentions of death/calamities. soulmates, body swapping, time travel, delayed ripple effect, references to chinese mythology, light angst. this is inspired by & heavily references makoto shinkai's film kimi no nawa/your name, but it's not required to have seen the film to understand the plot. word count: 9,000+

It’s a Wednesday when Minghao wakes up in a room that isn’t his.

He doesn’t immediately register it. His senses come to him slowly; the sun is warm on his face, supposedly streaking through the windows. 

But then an alarm blares, and it’s an alarm that’s decisively not his. It’s loud and oppressive. The complete opposite of the gentle tinkling of bells that he sets for his mornings. Minghao peels his eyes open before blinking blearily up at a ceiling that’s in a shade of dark green. 

Odd. His ceiling is supposed to be beige. 

Minghao finally manages to sit up, to glance around. The room he’s in is not his. It’s much more disorganized and the furniture’s a bit more old-fashioned. He lets out a slight exhale. 

A dream, he thinks wearily. I’m dreaming. 

Minghao can’t help but think that it’s a particularly realistic dream as he unsteadily gets to feet. As he pulls aside the sheets that had covered him, he notices snatches of a body that isn’t his, either. Lithe legs, painted toenails. 

I’m dreaming I’m someone else, he thinks. It happened, didn’t it? One might sometimes dream from the perspective of a stranger, a friend. 

Minghao’s attention is drawn to a half-full water carafe on the bedside table. Without much thought, he reaches for it— before smashing it onto the floor. Free will, baby. 

Except—

He feels it. The wetness lapping up at his feet. The shards of broken glass flying in all directions. Something closes up in his throat. Did he usually feel things in his dreams? Had he eaten something weird, drank something the night before, to have him dreaming like this? 

The door to the room swings open. 

A silver-haired woman stands in front of him, now, her face pinched with worry. She says a name— a name that isn’t Minghao’s— and asks, panicked, “What happened?” 

Minghao doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He just stares and stares as this wrinkled woman chides him in a motherly way until he realizes, ah. This must be his mother. Not his mother, but his dream self’s mother. 

He can work with that. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. His voice is different. Not his, not his. He tries again— softer, this time— like it might change things. Like he might be able to coax his old voice to break through whatever sleepy haze he’s in. “I’m sorry. I knocked it over by accident.” 

“You’re so clumsy,” his ‘mother’ chides, but she’s already getting to her knees to wipe at the puddle of water with her apron. That snaps Minghao into action; he stumbles across the room in search of a towel. 

What a crazy dream, he thinks as he delicately gathers up the shards, as he wipes up the spilled water. I’ve never had a dream like this. 

As his ‘mother’ heads back downstairs, Minghao figures he might as well play the part. 

He follows her down for breakfast. He’s struck by how visceral, how tactile everything feels. The creeks of the old staircase. The smell of seaweed egg drop soup. The crick in Minghao’s neck.

Am I going insane? Minghao briefly wonders as he settles into the dining table, where there’s already a spread of food waiting for him. He notes that it’s a rather small table, made for only two people. It’s a stark contrast to the long tables he usually shares with twelve other boys, to the family tables he reserves with his own family.

“Why are you being so quiet?” his ‘mother’ asks as she sits across from him. “We’ll just get you a new carafe, kiddo.”

Right. That’s definitely why he was being quiet. Minghao picks up the chopsticks in front of him and goes to try some of the braised potatoes. 

He can even taste it. This was probably the most detailed dream he’s ever had.

“Aren’t I always quiet, though?” Minghao manages to ask in the voice-that-is-not-his. It’s a higher pitched voice, one that has a distinct Seoul accent. 

His ‘mother’ lets out a snort of laughter. “Yah, in what universe are you quiet?” she says with a snicker, reaching over to flick Minghao’s forehead. 

He lets out a small sound of protest. 

“That’s more like it,” his ‘mother’ notes. “Now, eat up. You’ll be late for work.”    

Work. Something like unease begins to pool at the pit of his stomach at the thought of it. Not because he hates his job, no. Minghao loved being a dancer, an idol, an artist. But— he had a feeling that wasn’t the job he should be expecting this time around.

“I— I’m not really feeling well,” he mumbles, pushing around some seaweed at the bottom of his soup. When his ‘mother’ shoots him a scrutinizing glare, he forces out a cough to sell the act. “I’m not sure if I can go in today.” 

His ‘mother’ goes from looking skeptical to concerned. She sets her own utensils down. “Do you need me to take care of you? I can take off, too—” 

“It’s okay,” Minghao says hastily. “I think I just need to stay in bed.” 

The woman across from him doesn’t look convinced, and so he presses on, “How is work, anyway?” 

It’s a polite question, one meant to wheedle out more information. His ‘mother’ takes the bait, though, and goes on to rant about bad co-workers, about impatient patrons. She’s a grocery store bagger, Minghao gleams. And when she complains about other small things— the weather making it difficult to hang laundry, the lack of delivery shifts— Minghao realizes that his ‘mother’ has an array of other side hustles. 

He listens intently. He nods in all the right places. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, but his ‘mother’ falters mid-sentence to fix him a worried look. 

“You really are so quiet today,” she repeats, reaching over to put the back of her hand against Minghao’s forehead. He feels the touch, feels the warmth of concern wash over his skin, and it makes him shiver. “You really must not be feeling well, huh?” 

Minghao thinks he’s only about to feel so much worse.

He heads back to ‘his’ bedroom, and it’s only then that he catches a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror. It’s… the face of someone he’s never met before. 

Minghao once heard that the people you see in your dreams are never strangers. They’re all faces you’ve seen at least once or twice, and in Minghao’s line of work— well, he’s seen a lot of faces. He raises a hand to pinch at his cheek, to pat at his hair. 

It all feels so real. He doesn’t dwell on that. 

Instead, he starts to explore. Walking around the cramped bedroom feels both like a museum visit and an intrusion. There’s posters peeling off the wall, shelves groaning under the weight of books, clothes that look a little worse for wear. It’s honestly such a mess that Minghao ends up killing a couple of hours just cleaning.

He lets out a snort of laughter as he does. Even in his dreams, he’s picking up over someone. 

He doesn’t know how long he spends gathering hangers and sweeping the floor, but, at one point, the silence is broken by a high-pitched ringtone. He fumbles for the shabby cellphone on the bedside table. 

It had been password-protected, which is why he couldn’t open it. Now, though, there’s an option to answer the incoming call. 

BOSS MAN 👿, it says, and Minghao nearly cracks a smile. Yeah, he can relate to that, at least. 

When he answers the call, though, any and all humor dissipates at the yelling that assaults Minghao’s ear. “WHERE ARE YOU?” ‘Boss Man’ screams on the other end. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU ALL DAY! YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE, PUNK—” 

Minghao definitely sees now why the devil emoji was warranted. He has the urge to cut into the other man’s tirade, partly because it’s a dream where there’ll surely be little to no consequences. Something holds him back, though, as he puts some distance between his ear and the phone. 

Once the other man pauses to breathe, Minghao manages to get a word in. “I… wasn’t feeling well,” he says lamely. “Could I maybe work from home or something?” 

“WORK FROM HOME? ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT—”

At that point, Minghao just hangs up. When ‘Boss Man’ tries to call again, Minghao turns off the cellphone’s ringer and goes back to cleaning. 

He cleans until there’s not a speck of dust in the bedroom. And when that’s done, he goes to work on the grout in the bathroom, the oil stains in the kitchen. He’s not really sure what he’s doing. Occasionally, he’ll stop in the middle of a chore, wondering if it’s finally time for him to be shaken out of this mundane, long-winded dream. 

Night falls. His ‘mother’ texts about taking on an extra shift. She says something about food in the refrigerator, but Minghao can’t be bothered; he’s so exhausted that he blacks out the moment his head hits his pillow.

He doesn’t even have the energy to contemplate the mechanics of falling asleep in what’s supposed to be a dream. 

On Thursday, Minghao wakes up back in his dorm. 

When he hears the familiar chime of his morning alarm, when he opens his eyes and sees beige, he feels a wave of relief. It really had all been a dream. A very realistic one, sure. But a dream all the same. He was awake now, and he was ready to go about his Wednesday schedule— 

Except, when he checks his phone, it says that it’s already Thursday. 

Minghao blinks. How long was he out? Surely one of the boys would’ve dragged him out of bed if he’d been out of commission for twenty-four hours. 

He unlocks his phone to a dozen unread messages. Eyebrows furrowed, he decides to first go with Seungcheol’s texts. 

🍒: myungho  🍒: are you feeling better?  🐸: Hyung, hi. I think I just overslept a bit but I’m feeling ok. 

Despite the early morning, the three dots indicating that Seungcheol is typing pop up. 

🍒: are you sure???  🍒: you had us worried 🐸: Did I really sleep that long?  🍒: i mean, i don’t know how long you slept 🍒: was that the problem? were you hysterical yesterday because of lack of sleep? ㅋㅋㅋ

Suddenly, Minghao’s room feels a lot colder than earlier. Hysterical. That was the word Seungcheol had used. And yesterday— Tuesday? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened to Minghao. It was all the usual; he had practiced, eaten dinner out with Soonyougn, then went home. 

The dream had been the only unusual thing about the day prior. Minghao is jolted when Seungcheol sends another slew of texts. 

🍒: seriously 🍒: i was worried i might have to bring you to the hospital or something 🍒: but you say you’re ok now? 

Minghao can’t help it anymore. He dials Seungcheol’s number and puts the phone to his ear, his heart pounding in his chest all the while. 

Seungcheol answers on the first ring. In lieu of a greeting, Minghao jumps straight into “Was I really— hysterical, yesterday?” 

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When Seungcheol speaks, he still sounds a touch gruff, like he’s only half-awake. “I mean, kind of. What, are you worried about it? Do you need help apologizing to Mingyu?” 

Apologizing to Mingyu? “What— is Mingyu mad at me?” 

“Uh.” There’s some sounds of shuffling on the other end, as if Seungcheol is sitting up. It’s a pretty clear giveaway of his growing concern. “You might have to ask him that. But, Hao— you sure you’re better?”

Minghao swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know where to start without sounding insane.

“I think I’m still feeling a bit off,” Minghao says weakly. “Must be the flu or something.” 

“I can come over.” 

“No, no. I think I just need some rest.” 

Seungcheol lets out a contemplative hum. “Alright,” he says, though he doesn’t sound all too convinced. “I’ll keep the boys off your back for the day. Text me if you need anything, and maybe text Mingyu when you can.” 

“Text Mingyu,” Minghao repeats absentmindedly. “Yeah, got it.” 

The call ends without anything more. Minghao stays seated in his bed for a long moment, just staring at the call log. 

Seungcheol had called him hysterical. Mingyu was upset with him. 

Something was definitely not right. 

Minghao’s suspicion is only confirmed when he goes to check the texts he’d gotten from other members.

🐯: need to call u about choreo but preferably u dont yell at me this time 😒 let me know when’s a good time  🐱: Are u ok? Or did u actually ditch me for our dinner (bec if then, wtf)  🦖: i’ve been in the practice room for an hour now!!!!!! Where are you!!!

If Minghao wasn’t already sitting down, he might’ve collapsed. 

He yelled at Soonyoung. He ditched Jun and Chan. 

He had no memory of any of that. 

But he remembers the shattered carafe, the seaweed soup, the shrill shrieks of ‘Boss Man’ in his ear. 

For a moment, he’s convinced he’s just in another version of the same dream— except, this time, it looks a lot more like a nightmare. As Minghao finally musters up the energy to get to his feet, he notices something at the foot of his bed. 

He unfurls the folded piece of paper. The handwriting isn’t anything he’s seen before. His eyes inadvertently skip to the very bottom, and his heart nearly stops in his damn chest. Minghao drops the paper like it had physically burnt him. 

“What the fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he scrambles to his feet, as he puts distance between himself and the now-discarded paper. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” 

At the very end of the handwritten letter had been a name. 

The name that had been uttered by his dreamself’s mother. The name that ‘Boss Man’ had shrieked. A name he hadn’t heard before yesterday, before his dream— 

Minghao is finding it increasingly hard to believe that it had been a dream in the first place. Hell, he doesn’t even know what ‘yesterday’ is anymore. 

He paces his room. He does breathing exercises. He brews half a pot of tea. 

None of it helps. Hours later— with all his texts still unanswered and his tea depleted— Minghao stumbles back to the letter. 

I don’t know who you are, it starts. But I can tell you who I am. 

I’m from Umyeon-deong in Seocho. I live with my mother; my father hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. I work as an editorial assistant for a local newspaper. (It’s not exactly what I want to be doing, although that’s a story for another day.) 

For a big part of today, I thought I was dreaming. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back in my bedroom, but the hours have ticked by and I’m still here. Your friends keep contacting you. It’s driving me insane. I accidentally yelled at two of them because they wouldn’t stop calling. The Mingyu one got really upset about it, I think. Sorry. 

I’m writing this because I don’t know what else to do. If this is nothing but a dream, then this shouldn’t matter. But in the 0.000000001% chance that something truly insane has happened to me and you? Well, at least now you know. 

I’m going to try and go to sleep now, although I must admit: You have some pretty nice stuff. I ate some of your tea and snacks (sorry, again). This is crazy. None of this makes sense. 

The letter unceremoniously ends there. Minghao’s eyes flick again to the signoff, to the name at the very bottom. 

Your name. 

His head is reeling. He feels like he’s going to be sick. 

This is no coincidence, no practical joke. It’s— as you’ve said— truly something insane happening. 

Minghao is struck with the realization that it just might happen again, and this time, he actually does get sick. He ends up hurling into a trash can. 

After brushing his teeth, chugging some water, and running through one too many of the chips in his pantry, Minghao gets back to the letter. 

It’s still there, in his hands. The stationary that was locked away in his drawer, bearing handwriting that is not his. 

None of the boys would pull off a prank as elaborate as this. Minghao is fairly certain he would’ve noticed if any of them snuck in, too. So, now, the only logical explanation was the one that was left. 

And Minghao really didn’t like that explanation. 

For what feels like forever, he contemplates what to do. He considers calling up Seungcheol again. He debates the merits of apologizing to Mingyu and Soonyoung; he decides against it when he realizes he wouldn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. He knows what to say to Jun and Chan at least, but that doesn’t make it any easier. How would Minghao even begin to justify himself? Hey, sorry for ditching you; I think I body swapped with a complete stranger. Let’s grab dinner tonight instead? 

There’s a headache blossoming behind Minghao’s eyes at the mere thought of putting the words out into existence. 

In the end, he does what he deems to be the easiest thing to do. He picks up a pen and writes on the other side of your letter. 

Hello, he begins. I’m The8 Myungho Minghao. 

I’m an idol who’s part of a group called SEVENTEEN. They’re the friends who keep contacting me. Mingyu is a fellow member and good friend of mine. I’ll talk to him. 

My family is in a different country. 

As Minghao goes on to write the next parts, he feels a bit foolish. He doesn’t really know what to say, though he feels like he should say something. You had given him something to work with, after all. Slivers of context. He should be able to do the same for you. 

I met your mother. She’s nice. 

I talked to your boss. He wasn’t happy. He yelled at you (me?), and I may or may not have put down the phone. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what your work was so I ended up not going at all. 

I hope you liked the tea. Feel free to have all the snacks you want. 

And you’re right. This is crazy. 

If I’m lucky, you’ll never need this letter. 

Minghao wakes up on Friday to the realization that he is decidedly unlucky.

The loud alarm is back, and the ceiling is dark green again, and Minghao once again leans over to throw up. Luckily, there’s a bedside garbage bin that comes to the rescue. 

There’s no sun this time. It’s fairly gloomy outside, the overcast skies peeking through the windows. 

Minghao immediately notices that there’s a folded piece of paper on the pillow next to him. He unfurls it so fast that he almost tears it in half. 

This is a precaution, you start. Maybe, come tomorrow, I can just chuck this out and chalk it all up to a one-off freak incident. 

The thought of this phenomenon not being a one-off nearly has bile rising up in Minghao’s throat all over again, but he forces himself to read the rest of your words. 

First off, I guess I should thank you. My room has never been this clean in my life! And you should have seen the look on my mother’s face when she saw that ‘I’ cleaned the entire apartment. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was possessed, for the lack of better term, by someone who is a much better person than me. 

That almost makes Minghao smile. Almost, because the next part sends a pang of guilt through him. 

Secondly, though, you almost cost me my job. I can’t believe you hung up on my boss, Donghyuk. I had to do some serious damage control. I managed to get today off, just in case. 

Minghao is struck by your foresight and, adversely, his absolute lack of it. The most he had to do was appease a sulky Mingyu and message back the rest of the boys. His brain races to figure out if he has any schedules for— Friday, was it? A practice, maybe. Or a recording. 

Either way, he’s screwed. You’re screwed. 

Minghao his face in one hand and quietly prays that you know how to dance. 

He skims over the rest of your letter. 

I don’t know why this is a thing. I don’t know if it is meant to be a thing. I’m going to try and look for some answers, whether or not I wake up as you/myself. 

Wish me luck. 

A small part of Minghao feels a tug at the thought of both of you ending your letters with the concept of luck. That feeling is quickly replaced by something akin to dread, because he’s fairly convinced that this is no longer a dream. 

Minghao has woken up in a body that isn’t his. Minghao has woken up in your body— the body of a person he’s sure he’s never met.

He has to live a day in your life with nothing to go by but the notes you’ve left and a handful of context clues. 

For a moment, Minghao contemplates just going back to sleep. Maybe if the both of you just slept right now, the switch would trigger. Maybe he could just spend the whole day in bed until you have to swap again.

The latter seems like the best idea until knuckles rap against the bedroom door. 

Your mother pops her head through the crack in the door. “I’m going to leave early today. The rain isn’t looking so good,” she says with a slight grimace. 

Minghao glances out the window. It’s all he can do, really, to keep himself from not going insane then and there. 

“Take care,” he says. 

He’s suddenly acutely aware of your voice— the cadence and timbre of it. He knows what you sound like, how you write, and he wonders how the two might combine. What might be the right thing to say in this situation. 

Because your mother has that look again, that openly dubious expression. 

“Are you alright?” she asks cautiously, not quite stepping into the bedroom just yet. 

A flash of panic rises up in Minghao. What would you say? What would you do? 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His tone’s just a little haughty now. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Minghao nearly winces, but he persists. “Go on, don’t get caught in the rain.” 

Your mother lets out a huff of a laugh, mumbling something like ‘ungrateful kid’ as she retreats. Despite that, it seems to work; she takes her leave without another protest. Minghao lets out a shaky breath.  

His— your stomach, really— lets out a low grumble. A part of him wonders if you’ve been just on edge as he’s been. Unable to eat properly, losing sleep over this whole thing. 

Regardless, the least he can do is take care of you. He pads over to the kitchen and rummages through the refrigerator for some leftovers. All the while, he’s thinking of what he has in his own kitchen. 

Will you be hungry? You did say you liked his snacks. Would that be enough? 

The questions rattling in his head turn into considerably more stressful ones. 

Is this going to happen forever? Will he have to spend the rest of his life swapping bodies with you on a day-to-day basis?

He thinks of the group, thinks of your mother. Thinks of his demanding job and your terrible boss. 

Minghao nearly panics again. He manages to keep it together enough to make a sandwich and sip some coffee. 

He tries to meditate, even, but it’s like your body knows that it’s not a practice that you frequent. Your hands twitch in the stillness; your heart only slams harder instead of calming. You need to catch a goddamn break, Minghao thinks as he grits his teeth and tries to relax. 

Something good comes out of his attempt, at least. It comes as an epiphany of some sorts— how he suddenly remembers a portion of your letter. 

I’m going to try and look for some answers, you had written. 

He might as well do the same. 

Once he’s changed into outerwear that’s slightly more acceptable for the rainy weather, he spends a good amount of time searching for your wallet. When he goes to check it, he inadvertently lets out a grumbled “damn.”

Your wallet has nothing but a couple of loose bills. 

Minghao can’t blame you, not really, but you’re certainly giving him very little to work with. A part of him even feels kind of bad for you. Not only did you have a demon for a boss; you were also severely underpaid. He makes a mental note to bring that up in his next letter to you. 

He can’t go far with the lack of funds, though that’s not the only thing hindering his quest for answers. It’s pouring outside, the rain coming in heavy droplets. 

Minghao braves it with a raincoat and an umbrella, hoping against hope to find something. Anything. 

As luck would have it, your neighborhood has a local library. 

When he steps in, the librarian doesn’t pay him much heed. Minghao is momentarily amused by the thought. Did you not come here often? 

It’s a quaint place with a scarce collection. A lot of the novels are on the older end— published nearly a decade ago— but they remain in pristine condition. Minghao skips over the best-sellers and the manga serieses, instead opting to sift through the psychology textbooks. 

He’s not surprised when he doesn’t find anything of use there, when he spends nearly four hours reading and reading to no avail. The lack of non-fiction about a body swapping phenomenon is to be expected. This wasn’t something that just happened, after all. 

And yet it’s happening to me, Minghao thinks with frustration as he grabs at his sixth book of the afternoon. The unexpected force knocks some of the surrounding books onto the floor. 

The librarian gives him a vicious side eye. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao mumbles as he immediately gets to his knees. 

His hands close around one of the books he knocked over. It’s a heavy hardbound with a gorgeous deep red cover and metallic gold lettering. There’s a dragon featured on the front and the familiar iconography of it nearly bowls Minghao over. 

While still crouched down on the floor, Minghao flips through the pages. The images that go flashing by are not strangers to him, but there’s one in particular that he’s looking for. 

He finds it on the thirtieth page. Almost out of instinct, his fingers trace over the characters. 

月老. Yue Lao. 

Suddenly, Minghao is a child again, listening to his mother’s stories. He had been young and wide-eyed, sprawled on her lap as she talked soothingly about the god who presented himself as an old man under the moon.  

The god of marriage and love. He’s the reason why your bàba and I met, his mother would say amusedly. Yue Lao made it possible. 

How? His younger self had demanded. How did he make sure? 

His mother had laughed, then. Had stroked Minghao’s hair out of his face as she told him about the myth. The magical cord may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. 

And, oh, how Minghao had prayed back then. He prayed to Yue Lao the hardest— his eyes squeezed shut, his hands clasped to his chest. 

I hope I find love. 

It doesn’t matter when, or where, or how. 

Qǐng, Yue Lao. Please, please, please. 

“Are you going to check that out or what?” 

Minghao is dragged out of his memories at the sound of the librarian’s sharp tone. “I—” 

The words stick in his throat. Eventually, he manages a meek, “I’ll put it back.”

It’s still pouring as he leaves the library and makes the short walk back to your apartment. The rainwater pooling in the gutters has muck and grime sticking to the bottom of his— technically your— rain boots. Another thing to apologize for, Minghao thinks wryly. 

He seeks temporary shelter underneath the corner store near your apartment block. The vendor looks up expectantly. 

“The usual?” the woman croaks, and it takes a moment for Minghao to register that he’s being addressed.  

“Not today,” he responds with a tight smile. 

The vendor lets out a bark of laughter. “When have you ever said ‘no’ to me?” she says with a tut of disapproval. Before Minghao can protest, the stranger is already shuffling over to her cooking station. 

Minghao watches in silence when he realizes what’s being made. Some fruit is speared onto a bamboo skewer, then dipped into a simmering syrup. It emerges coated like a clear gemstone before it’s shoved into a bowl of ice. 

Tanghulu, Minghao thinks dazedly as he accepts the snack. “Thank you,” he says softly.

The vendor smiles. She’s already missing a couple of teeth. 

Minghao takes a tentative bite. Tanghulu was a familiar enough delicacy, but the fruit he'd been given— your ‘usual’— is something he hasn't seen in quite some time. 

The date-plum persimmon is soft and glutinous, wrapped in a thin layer of crisp sweetness. Minghao can't remember the last time he had black jujube this way. 

“You’re still the only one who likes that stuff.” There’s an edge of fondness to the vendor’s tone. A clear indicator that you have some sort of camaraderie with her, something that Minghao isn’t entirely privy to. “Do you know how hard it is to find stock of that darn fruit?” 

It seems like a rhetorical question, like something that you’d probably take in stride. But Minghao can’t bring himself to joke. His free hand is already fishing for your wallet, where he’s prepared to blow the last of your money on this dessert. 

The vendor shakes her head. “Not today,” she chirps, echoing Minghao’s words from earlier. Her gaze is fixed over his shoulder, where the downpour is relentless. 

Minghao is not quite sure what the norm is supposed to be. Do the two of you talk? Do you leave right after you’ve made your purchase? 

He doesn’t want to be rude, so he mumbles his gratitude and decides to stick around for a moment. The vendor thankfully chooses not to make conversation. 

Minghao spends a long time just standing there, making slow work of the sticky date-plum. He watches the rain that never lets up. He watches the lights of your apartment building flicker on as night falls. He watches, and he tries to commit it to memory as he finishes off his tanghulu. 

For what it’s worth, he’s glad to ‘share’ this with you— something sweet to get the both of you by. 

Come Saturday, Minghao wakes up with more questions than answers.

Your letter is within reach, resting atop his bedside table. He goes to read it despite the fact that he’s barely lucid. 

It’s shorter this time. If he strained, he could almost hear the words in your voice. A distant echo. 

I can’t believe you’re actually an idol. Have you met BIGBANG? 

That draws a surprised laugh out of him. It’s been years since he last heard of his industry seniors. The thought of you being a second gen fan is a little endearing to him. 

Anyway, I told everyone who contacted you that you were really sick. Like, throwing up levels of sick. ‘Coups-hyung’ said he would send a manager, but I assured him that you already had one on the way. You might want to corroborate that lie. 

I know I said I would look for answers, but I couldn’t really go far. I was scared of getting lost. And, man, your neighborhood is overwhelming. I’ve lived in Seoul my whole life and I don’t think I’ve ever been in this part of the city. 

I ended up spending most of my day just reading your books. Good taste. 

The compliment puts the smallest grin on his face.   

I promise to do better research when I’m back in my own body. ‘Till then. 

As curt as your letter is, it gives him an idea he probably wouldn’t have had otherwise. Better research. Back in his own body.

He fishes for your first letter, which he had kept tucked in his drawer. It’s still there, which means the past couple of days have not been a bout of psychosis. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or horrified. 

Minghao focuses instead on scanning your introduction, where you had mentioned your neighborhood. Umyeon-deong. 

While he’s in the back of the cab, Minghao texts back his members. He’s vague, still, but it’s not anything particularly new. Feeling a little better. Getting a check-up, just in case. Stop worrying. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

The heat is oppressive for July, almost beating down on Minghao’s back as he finally makes it to the district. It’s a full 180 from yesterday’s rain. He regrets the baseball cap and the hoodie, but both are necessary evils. 

He’s not entirely sure where to drop off, so he settles for one of the corners at the mouth of the neighborhood. Once he’s there, he just— begins to walk in a general direction.

Later, he realizes he probably could have pulled up Google Maps. He would have benefited from asking around, would have cut his time in half if he deigned to admit that he was lost. But, at the moment, he’s just taking it all in. 

The apartment complexes. The children’s park. The liquor store. 

Briefly, he wonders if he’ll run into you. Would you recognize him? 

Would he even want you to? 

Minghao is so busy mulling it over that he almost misses it. The streetside food stand advertising fresh tanghulu. It feels like yesterday— well, it was yesterday. His mouth is already watering at the thought of the candied date-plums as he wanders over to the stand. 

A rasping voice addresses him. He looks up from scanning the selection, realizing with a jolt that it’s the same vendor.

But it’s also— not. 

Something is off. 

Something he can’t quite place.

It almost steals the breath out of Minghao. He probably looks dumbstruck, looks stupid with his mouth hanging slightly agape, but the vendor asks again, “What do you want?”

Minghao forces an answer out of his chest. “Do you have— black jujube?”

A myriad of micro expressions flash across the seller’s face. It starts with recognition, but ends with something closer to tightness. She gives a labored grunt in response before going to make the snack. 

When she hands it over to Minghao, there’s a slight quiver in her fingers. She nearly drops it, even, but Minghao catches it just in time. 

“Sorry,” she grouses. “It’s an order that a regular of mine used to have.” 

There’s a low ringing in Minghao’s ears as he says “ah,” as he hands over his payment. The vendor busies herself with cleaning her workstation, and Minghao tries to enjoy the date-plums, but it’s not as good as he remembers it. 

Was it perhaps a difference in taste buds? 

No, he thinks. It’s the lump in his throat. It’s the seller’s words nagging at the back of his mind. 

An order that a regular of mine used to have. Used to. 

He saw her yesterday. You were supposed to have seen her yesterday. 

As he munches on the fruit, he asks almost too casually, “Is it your first time selling in this area?” 

The vendor shoots him a suspicious glare. Minghao knows he’s being a little odd with the line of his small talk so he fields his question, tries to make it come out more naturally. “I remember you used to have a spot somewhere else,” he offers. “In front of an apartment building.”

This time, it’s the seller’s turn to mumble “ah.” 

“That’s why you had that order,” she says with a humorless laugh. “You knew them, huh?” 

“Them?” 

The vendor says your name. The ringing in Minghao’s ear gets louder; his fingers, tightening around the skewer of his tanghulu. It’s the first time he’s hearing your name in his own body and it sends a shiver down his spine. 

The question is even harder to answer. Does he know you? Was he allowed to say that?---

No. No, wait. The vendor had said knew. 

The ringing reaches an almost feverish pitch. It’s a miracle that Minghao hears anything else, that he picks up the murmured words that the seller says next.  

“It’s a real shame,” she says with a voice so soft, so solemn, so small. “It’s been nine years, hasn’t it?” 

Nine years.

Nine years. 

Nine years. 

Since what? Since you? 

A lot of things haven’t made sense to Minghao in the past couple of days, but this— this is the one that baffles him the most. He saw you— he was you— yesterday. 

When Minghao finally finds his voice, it’s to ask for a favor. 

The vendor complies, albeit skeptically. She hangs a ‘be right back’ sign over her stall. It’s a short walk, not more than seven minutes. 

If Minghao’s ears had been ringing earlier, now, it’s just dead silence. A dreadful sort of quiet as he stares at the ruins of the apartment building he was staring at just the day before. 

The seller is watching his face carefully. “You didn’t know?” she prompts gently. 

Minghao realizes he has to come up with something. “We were friends. Me and—” He chokes around your name. When he finally says it out loud for the first time, he feels guilty. It feels so wrong to be saying it in this context. To have it be part of a lie. “But then—” 

He trails off. The vendor supplies, “You lost touch?” 

Sure. Minghao gives a jerky nod in response. That’s one way to put it. 

He’s not even looking for an explanation, but the seller gives him one. “The typhoon was so bad that it triggered landslides,” she says gruffly. She nods towards the direction of the mountain towering over the neighborhood. “I think the death toll was around eighteen people.” 

Minghao resists the urge to scream. If he were a lesser man, he might have fainted. Instead, he quietly says, “Nine years ago.” 

“Nine years ago,” the vendor confirms. She pauses before adding, her voice just a little sadder, “A tragedy.” 

“Tragedy,” Minghao repeats. That doesn’t even begin to cover it, he thinks. 

Neither of them say anything for a long time. He can feel the pity rolling off the seller in waves; still, he can’t bring himself to turn away. He stares, and he stares, and he stares at the rubble, at the derelict building. At the mere echo of what had been so loud and alive to him just yesterday.

After what feels like forever, he asks another question. “Is— is the library still around?” 

The vendor leads the way. At the door of the library, she attempts to give Minghao a reassuring smile. It’s all just gums, now. No teeth. There’s an endless refrain of nine years, nine years, nine years screeching through Minghao’s head as the seller bids him goodbye with “I’m sorry you lost your friend.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” he responds with a solemnity that doesn’t need to be feigned. 

The librarian isn’t the same one. 

This one has a calmer demeanor, a more restrained smile. Somehow, that only makes Minghao feel much worse. He knows what he’s looking for this time; he goes straight to the neighborhood records and scrolls all the way back to nine years ago. 2015. 

It’s a lot of information to digest all at once. There’s the news clippings about the heavy rainfall. The flash floods, the landslides. Class action lawsuits. Landmine threats. Government incompetence. 

Minghao feels like he’s drowning in information, but it’s still not what he’s looking for. 

He finds it in a directory. There’s two people with the same last name and Minghao nearly loses it then and there, at the thought of your mother, too— 

He focuses on you for now. His quivering finger traces the cell that contains your name, your date of birth. 1997. The same year as him. A couple of months younger, though. 

Nine years ago, Minghao had been 18. Just about to debut. 

Nine years ago, you had been an editorial assistant. Not exactly what I want to be doing, you had written in your first letter to him. There was no way for you to know that you would never have the chance to be anything more.  

Minghao’s eyes fall on the date of death. 

Except— 

It’s not nine years ago yesterday, not nine years ago today. It’s tomorrow. 

In that very moment, he understands what he’s meant to do. 

When Minghao wakes up in your body on Sunday, he knows he has only one chance. 

He had read up all about it the ‘day’ prior but the details were vague. None of the news reports mentioned when exactly the landslide would happen. The most he gleamed was that it would be due to an unstable slope from the nearby Mount Umyeon. 

A wall of mud three storeys high hit the building, one article had said. It’s the only information that Minghao has to go by as he drags himself out of bed, ignoring the blare of your obnoxious alarm. 

He goes straight for your mother’s room. She’s already awake, standing by the window. 

Outside, the storm rages on. Your mother turns to face Minghao. “It’s not looking good out there,” she says disapprovingly. “The news said it’s the heaviest rainfall in nearly a century.” 

Back in his body, Minghao had contemplated how he would go about this. He thought he might try to coax your mother, might be logical and rational in urging her to evacuate. 

In that very moment, though, he instead finds himself blurting out, “We’re going to die.” 

A beat. Your mother looks unfazed. 

“You’re always so dramatic.” 

The panic simmers in the pit of Minghao’s stomach. “We’re going to die,” he repeats, his tone on the shriller end now. 

It wasn’t like him to give in to hysteria; he was you, though, and your mother seemed nonchalant enough about it. He’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. “It’s just a little bit of rain,” your mother says dismissively as she squeezes past Minghao and heads towards the kitchen. 

Minghao is on her heels, his hands wringing together. “We can’t stay here,” he pleads. “We have to leave.” 

Your mother shoots Minghao— you— an exasperated look. “Where are we going to go in this weather?” 

“No. No, no. We have to go somewhere safe.” 

“We’re safe here—” 

“We’re not—”

It’s almost like a crack of thunder, the way your mother says your name. The sound shuts Minghao up immediately. It’s a familiar warning, an intonation that all mothers seem to wield over their children.

“What’s going on with you, really?” your mother questions, her hands at her hips. She’s eyeing Minghao with mild annoyance but he sees it for what it is. Concern. “You’ve been so odd these past few days. Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

And how is Minghao supposed to answer that? 

I’m not actually your child. I’ve swapped bodies with a man who lives nine years in the future. Our survival hinges on whether or not you’ll hear me out. 

When Minghao stays silent for a little too long, your mother shakes her head. “Get it together,” she says sternly. 

Maybe it’s that. Maybe that’s what finally gets Minghao to say—

“Please.” 

Your mother pauses in the middle of rifling the refrigerator. For a long, terrible moment, the only sound is the rain. 

Minghao’s hands are shaking at his side. “Please,” he repeats. He knows he sounds more like himself than you. He knows he’s being out of character, being obvious. 

But he needs your mother to understand. She’s looking at him now like he’s a stranger. 

Like you’re a stranger. And you are— at least in that moment. 

The words tumble out of Minghao before he can contain them. “I want to live.”

He doesn’t know where it’s all coming from, this rush of emotion. Your voice wavers; he pushes on. “I want to live,” he gasps out. “I want to move us to an apartment that’s not next to a damn mountain. I want to not work in this damn job. I want to live until I’m your age, until I’m even older than that, dammit—” 

Your mother crosses the room, the refrigerator long forgotten. When she raises a hand to Minghao’s face, he doesn’t even realize that some tears had escaped. 

These are all things he wants for you, he realizes.

He wants you to have a good job. He wants you and your mother to be out of harm’s way. He wants you to live a long, full life. 

“Please,” Minghao says a third time, his voice cracking around the word.

There’s a softness to your mother’s gaze; this time, her worry is undeniable. She holds Minghao’s face— no, he thinks. She’s holding your face. Her child’s face. Her child, who’s crying, who’s begging. 

That’s likely the reason why she acquiesces. “Alright,” she exhales, using her thumb to wipe away some of Minghao’s tears. “We’ll leave. We’ll go.”

That’s only half the battle, though. 

Minghao mutters something below his breath. Your mother raises her eyebrows in a silent question, and so he clears his throat before speaking louder. 

“We have to evacuate the entire building,” he mumbles. 

It takes time to convince your mother, which stresses Minghao out beyond belief. Time isn’t a luxury that he has. Not when he has no idea when the landslide will hit. Not when the rain is only worsening, making it less likely to persuade people to leave the comfort of their homes.

By some grace, he manages to get your mother on board. Sure, he had to spew odd specifics and statistics about the dangers of landslides, but it works. The two go door to door. 

They’re met with initial resistance. Minghao doesn’t care. 

He badgers the elderly. He negotiates with the children. He almost gets to his knees when a family with a baby refuses to budge. 

The entire apartment complex is bewildered. 

But when somebody is batting so hard for safety, when somebody is so desperate in what seems to be just a little more than paranoia— you listen. 

The landslide hits just as Minghao is helping the last resident out of the building. 

He’s never felt anything quite like it. He’s experienced earthquakes and their aftershocks. He’s been in stadiums that have shook with the sheer amount of people, the pulse of their music. 

This one starts with a rumble. Low and deep, like it’s coming from the very ground. He hears the trees crack, the boulders knock together. And then— 

Your mother is grabbing him by the arm. She’s screaming, screaming, screaming, the sound drowned out by the storm, by the shrieks of all the other evacuated residents, by the mud that suddenly crashes down on the complex in one fell swoop. It’s everything, everywhere, all at once. 

Minghao is soaked from head to toe. Some of the mud flies and sticks to his hair, his clothes. He can almost taste it, too. The earth. The rain. He feels the chill to his very bones.

Despite that, he laughs. Your mother is dragging him, you, away from the calamity, the tragedy, and all that Minghao can do is laugh. 

Because he made sure that no one was left in the building. 

Because he’s alive. 

You’re alive. 

Later, when everyone is gathered in an evacuation center— shivering underneath blankets, talking about how it was all such a close call— Minghao falls asleep at your mother’s side. He feels like a kid again, with his hair being stroked, with soft words being uttered to him. 

He drifts off and dreams. 

Minghao is sure that this is a dream because his surroundings take on the hazy quality of one. 

It’s just a little too bright to be real, the setting bathed in a light that feels almost like a bulb had exploded. Minghao has to put one hand over his eyes— 

It’s his hand, he realizes. He’s dreaming as himself.

His sight adjusts. He’s at a dining table. It’s a two-person dining table. Much smaller than he’s used to.

“It’s you.”

He drops his hand and braces it against the edge of the table, because your voice— he should be used to it, shouldn’t he? He had used it for a bit, formed words like sorry and thank you with a lilting tone. 

When he responds, his own words are imperceptibly soft. 

“It’s me,” he confirms. 

You’re seated across from him. He had caught glimpses of your features in reflections, in photographs, but it’s something entirely new. To be taking you in from an outsider’s perspective. He sees how you would control your body, how you were inclined to react. It makes him dizzy, just how much he had gotten wrong about your mannerisms. 

The first proper words you speak are, “You have some good friends, you know?” 

A corner of Minghao’s lip twitches upward. The thought of the boys constantly checking in on him seems about right. 

“And you have a good mother.” Minghao pauses. He did say he would mention the next part. “Terrible job, though. You should quit.” 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Idol,” you shoot right back. 

He winces; you laugh. The sound has the edges of his vision growing fuzzy. A sepia of the past, the present, and whatever this moment is, all blurring into one. Minghao doesn’t want to wake up. 

“What happens now?” you ask, your own fingers tap, tap, tapping on the table between you two. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Why—?” 

“— Did this happen in the first place?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve wondered the same thing.” 

The edges are closing in a little more now. Minghao can feel it— the familiar warmth of his bed at home, the tug of his own time. He’s already asked so much from his mother’s old gods but he lets his eyes flutter close so he can make a final plea. 

Just one more minute. Give me one more minute, please. 

“I think…” he starts slowly. His voice already sounds so distant. “It’s my fault.” 

“Your fault.” Skepticism undercuts your tone, enough to prompt Minghao to open his eyes again. 

He looks down at his hands, the ones that had folded atop the table. “I prayed for you,” he admits quietly. “Every day, back when I was a kid.” 

Confusion drips from your every word. “For me specifically?” 

He laughs. “Okay, maybe not you specifically,” he amends. “But—” 

It’s getting unbearably bright now, so much that he can only really make out the silhouette of your form. He itches to reach, to touch, just to see if you’re real. He doesn’t want to push it, though. 

Minghao settles with holding up his hand. If you squinted, if you really, really tried, you might see it, too. 

The faint glimmer of a red cord— looped around his thumb, tied to your pinky. 

Every day, back when I was a kid. 

“I prayed for this,” he repeats.

And so, in some way, he supposes you’re right. 

He had prayed for you. 

The chime of bells. 

The beige ceiling. 

Minghao is fairly sure he had dreamt, but it’s the kind of dream you forget the moment you wake up.

He blinks once, then twice. Odd. It felt like a good dream, too. 

There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoming in his chest, though it fades just as quickly as it blooms. 

Minghao never wakes up as you again. 

The universe takes, and takes, and takes. It takes away Minghao’s memory. He’s not entirely sure what happened to him those couple of days. Seungcheol says he went to the hospital. Mingyu laments that they fought. 

Minghao borrows one of Soonyoung’s favorite words. Funk. He had been in a funk, probably. An off couple of days.

He’s back to regular programming so seamlessly that the others are forced to believe him. 

Still—

Minghao goes about the next couple of weeks feeling like something is missing. 

It annoys him to no end. It’s not any of his valuables, he’s sure. He double, triple checked everything. He turns his entire apartment upside down and puts it back together again. He goes for meals with all of his members, hoping to find the answers there. 

Nothing.

He falls into dreamless sleep every night, and wakes up every morning with that empty feeling in his chest.

It’s an unassuming Wednesday evening— one that he spends driving around with Vernon and Wonwoo— when it hits him. 

“Hey,” he says, throwing them a glance through the rearview mirror. “I could go for some dessert.”  

Vernon perks up at that. “Should we head to Myeongdeong?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Vernon throws out directions. Wonwoo queues the music. 

Minghao keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

The night market is an assault on the senses but it’s also a good cover for the three idols. They set out with their matching hoodies and half-face masks, in search of something to fulfill their cravings. 

Vernon goes to get some dragon’s beard candy. 

Wonwoo wanders off to purchase some hotteok. 

Minghao… He isn’t sure, really, which is a bit ironic. He had been the one to make the call, after all. He weaves through the crowds, his hands in his jacket pockets, as he scrutinizes the stalls. 

Kkwabaegi. Bungeoppang. Tanghulu. Dalgona. Bing—

He backs up a bit. 

“Hi,” he greets the seller. “This is a bit weird, but do you have black jujube?” 

The tanghulu vendor lets out a grunt of approval. “I think I’ve got one more stick,” she notes as he ducks to check her stock. 

What a weird craving, Minghao thinks to himself. But it’s the first thing that came to mind. 

A voice at his side addresses the seller by name.

“Got my date-plum persimmon, ajumma?” 

It’s not a voice that Minghao has heard before, and yet—

Frantically, he tries to sort through the hundreds of fansigns and fan meetings he’s had in the past decade. Could it be that? Could that be the reason why the lilt was so damn familiar? 

As he turns to look at the source, he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s not the case.

You’re already turning away, though, grumbling about the lack of the tanghulu that you want. Minghao hadn’t even heard the vendor respond.

There’s a ringing in his ears. 

“Excuse me,” he manages.

You falter in your steps. When you look up at him, he sees the same flash of confusion. One that’s borne out of recognition. 

The ringing has gotten louder. Despite that, he pushes out three words. 

He thinks he’s yelling them; in reality, they’re barely audible over the din of the night market. 

“Haven’t we met?” he breathes. 

For one dreadful, dragging moment, he’s convinced he’ll die if you say no, even though his mind is being terribly uncooperative. He can’t place when, or where, or how he met you. He can’t say if you’re familiar because he knows you or someone like you. 

All he knows is that he can’t, won’t let you walk away.

Your response makes everything in Minghao’s head go quiet. 

“I thought so, too,” you say, and something in his chest thrums. 

It feels a lot like an answered prayer. 

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔.

Soft Dom!Darrel Curtis x Sweet Fem!Reader

cw -> hold the moan, rewarding??, INTIMATE SEX!, body worship, lotus position, light aftercare

Word Count -> 2.9K

I wanna pamper him 😔

Effortless.

The hands of a young man disciplined into a mature adult were doing the dishes while lost within the neverending blimps of his thoughts. A man toughened and moulded into a sculpture of what he is as you watch him with concern.

Poor Darrel hadn’t got a break at all this week.

You watched silently from the dimly lit dining room table as he moved in tune to whatever humming tune was being played from the television. Something of Ponyboy’s, his brain helpfully supplied him.

It didn’t take you long to tip-toe your way beside him, the soft creaks of the old floorboards underneath your feet acting as an alert for him that someone was nearing. Once he managed to tilt his head in your direction, a soft grin formed on his pretty lips. Darry was glad you actually took the time to notice how tired he was despite not ever vociferating that thought.

“Hey sweetie..” He mumbled, gently snatching your chin within his fingers to press a peck to your forehead. How could you look so darn cute with just a hint of colour on your cheeks and a pouty bottom lip? You simply beamed at his little kiss to your hairline, maybe he was okay? No, you couldn’t just assume that and move on! Darrel had grown the ability to store all his stress away in a separate container and hide it when talking to people he loved, even if it leaked sometimes due to it being a bit overfilled.

“D’you want me to do the dishes for you? Maybe you should go rest with Pony and Soda for a bit, maybe even lend Johnny a hand and drive him home since he’s stayin’ with Pony.” You tried so hard to convince him while remaining as subtle as possible. 

You knew very well though, that this Curtis was a tough one to crack.

“You sure? I bet you’re tired too, honey.” He hummed, playing around with a silly strand of your hair that strayed away from the rest of it. You knew this would happen as well, he always managed to scoot away from what you were trying to get at.

“Darrel,” You spoke rather firmly, more than he was used to hearing. “Take a break, go sit down. I’ll handle the dishes, okay? Maybe go take a shower while you’re at it, you deserve to unwind.”

The brown in his eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, you really were some angel sent to Earth just for him. Even if he always tried to push away your kindness to take care of you, it would be a straight lie if he said he didn’t appreciate you helping pay off the monthly bills alongside him.

So without much hesitation, a rare smile graced his face, eyes crinkling happily as he managed to snag you into a hug. It erupted loud laughter from the both of you, and he couldn’t find it in him to let go until you started playfully berating him.

“Get off, get off! Go shower, you smell.” You teased, watching him nod and loosen his grip before he trotted off.

Your new chore of doing the dishes wasn’t actually as bad as you thought it was going to be. Helping someone who did so much for you, it felt like you were finally being useful. The time ticked endlessly, the sound of the aged clock annoying you over time from its duration of noise, but soon enough, the dishes were practically shining!

Darry was now out of the shower, the towel he once used to dry his body now hanging limply around his neck to make sure the water from his hair didn’t drip down and wet his shirt. He popped into the kitchen to grab a beer, specifically the kind Two-Bit and Steve disliked so he had it all to himself before popping it open and heading your way.

“Kitchen is damn near spotless, sweetie.” He chuckled dryly, but smiled rather shyly at you. 

In all honesty, he had to be thankful. You were doing the chores he knew she should’ve been doing, and yet your cute little ass always had to intervene. While he wasn’t complaining, sometimes he found himself being bored doing nothing, or maybe it was just his worker’s mindset.

You smiled pridefully up at him, happy with the work you managed to do in under 20 minutes. Clean dishes, clean counters and emptied garbage bins. Call it a bit overdramatic, but you were genuinely proud of what you had accomplished in that short span of time. 

“I can be a good little housewife once in a while, can I not?” You joked, smiling as he gave a warmer expression at your little playful comment.

“Whatever you say. You’re still the one that manages to leave clothes all over the floor of my bedroom, so I dunno ‘bout that.” He joked back, watching you feign offence at his comment before snickering softly to himself.

How had he gotten so lucky with you?

Soon the clock had reached 10PM, you shooed Pony off to bed since it was a school night. While Soda was allowed to stay up later than Pony, Soda was tired and trotted off not long after Pony had left. Johnny said his goodbyes before leaving, and finally it was just you and Darrel getting your much deserved rest.

Seated on the sofa sharing a cigarette with your dearest, the silence and dim lighting was somehow quite romantic despite your situation. His hand gently squeezing your waist, occasionally passing you the cig to take a drag all while he talked about his day and how tiring it was keeping his brothers in line. You felt nothing but admiration for the fact that he managed to work so hard under such conditions and never suddenly collapse or give up.

“Thank you again for helpin’ with the dishes. Thought that pile would never end, if I’m bein’ honest.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek as he put the nub of useless leftover cigarette onto the small navy ashtray. 

You nodded, smiling up at him with those pretty lips of yours and glowing eyes. Your hands gently pawed at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him just a bit lower for you to snatch a chaste kiss from his lips. Like your little reward, in a way.

Your lips tingled after that, and you giggled to yourself when Darry gave you a playful naughty expression. Soon, the giggles were turned into mild laughter as he grabbed your precious body and slung you over his shoulder, causing you to flail and kick rather helplessly.

“Darry, stop!” You laughed although quietly to not wake anyone up. But Darry didn’t listen to you, simply giving your rear a light slap as he hauled you into his bedroom. The door was shut once he was inside, and he oh so gently placed you onto the cushiony mattress of his.

Darry was grinning happily as you smiled up at him, hands gently rubbing the firm muscle of his shoulders and teasing underneath the fabric of his taut biceps. 

You really didn’t seem to understand how much he loved you, did he?

“Takin’ such good care of me, sweetie. What did I ever do to deserve you?” He hummed against the skin of your neck, peppering the softest kisses to the flesh while his big hands mapped out your precious body.

Every curve, every contour, every dip and bump that he’s come to admire so fully. A man like him, a greaser, an emotionally constipated man like him managed to snag something as precious, as porcelain and gentle as you. He questioned himself every time he woke up with you beside him in his bed. 

You smiled almost bashfully up at him, admiring every feature that laid perfectly on his face. Almond eyes as warm as ever, the slight Greek nose of his and that sharp jawline you wore could cut diamonds. Great heavens, he could have just about anyone with those looks, you thought.

“I dunno.. what did I ever do to deserve you?” You asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as your hands trailed down to gently knead at his triceps.

A groan, deep in pitch, vibrated from within the canal of his throat and falling onto your ear. It didn’t go unheard, and it made you giggle a bit. Poor man was probably so stiff and so tired. 

“Dunno sweetie, but I love you so much. Love you...” He murmured as he gently pressed his lips to yours. So tender, like he was scared he’d hurt you.

The soft kisses were like a balm to your lips, the warm saliva of his mixed with yours as your tongues started to entangle with each other seeming to ease the dryness of your mouth. 

Your fingers found their way into the soft curls of his hair, gently tugging on them for purchase as you practically kissed his lips off. Hungry, voracious almost. You craved him more than just physically. For once, you felt a deep, raging desire. Something that threatened to burn all of your senses with the taste and feel of simply Darrel.

But his lips escaped yours, and you tried oh so hard to get his lips back to yours. They were like a lifeline in a way, the way they breathed life back into the dullness.

But his lips made contact with your jaw, made a trail leading down your neck, suckling colourless marks into your shoulder as his big palms mapped around your body. Exploring you was an adventure he’d never get tired of, the mere touch of your soft flesh made him go crazy.

His hands managed to snag onto the elastic of your pants and panties, teasingly wiggling them off of you until you raised your hips for him to tug them off. Useless fabrics, they didn’t do anything to help him in your moment.

“So pretty, sweetie... Look atchu.” He murmured, mainly to himself but he hoped you heard him too. 

Cooing soft nothings as his hands wandered across your thighs, squeezing the flesh desperately as his kisses lingered along the lines of your collarbone. You were like jelly in his hands, putty even. You gave into his whims, soft moans and breaths escaping your mouth like whispers. 

Before you could even register it, his hands began to gently slide off your top and peel off your bra. But no words of disdain or discontentment for his actions seemed to be voiced. You let it happen. After all, you thought Darry deserved unwrapping you like a gift.

“Listen though, we gotta keep it quiet though, okay? Soda and Pony are in the next room, I really don’t want them to hear us. Last time they heard, Pony kept lookin’ at me funny.” Darry rattled you gently, getting a nod from you as agreement before he continued.

Like walking along an unknown path, Darry was more than happy to trail and trace every part of your body. Like worship, like you were some goddess. It wasn’t long until the tightness in Darry’s pants got uncomfortable, and what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t use what he had to please his beloved? 

Tenderly, his hands travelled away from your body to tend to his own. The ache in his lower abdomen felt like it was threatening to eat his insides, just from how aggravating the pain was. So he unbuckled the black belt he wore and tugged it off only to chuck it off and toss it to the floor with the rest of the unnecessary garments.

Your hands grasped steadily as his hands wandered down to unbutton the zipper of his jeans. You were so ready, you wanted to do it yourself. A man like him needed pampering too, right?

Nimble and flimsy hands managed to snag the zipper down, and you hastily wriggled his jeans down just so they were on the upper part of his thighs. A soft sigh escaped Darry, you presumed it was out of relief for his cock to be free from its tight confines.

Darrel wasted no time getting into a good position. He wanted to see you in your full glory, to see those lovely expressions cross your face or even feel how you’d use his shoulder to muffle the dulcet sounds you’d make. So he chose something comfortable, something that wouldn’t strain his already exhausted legs.

Patient, precise.

He handled you with grace, elegance. There was no need to rush such intimate and gentle moments when he was showing you his utter gratitude towards you.

Your bodies collided, moulded into one as you relished in the warmth emanating from under your flesh. Seeping into one another, your shared warmth spread all through you as Darry eyed you like you were the most precious piece of gold he owned. 

And in a way, you were. 

Gently, he weaved his way into the lovely tightness of that pretty cunt of yours. Rough fingers gripping his own base while he tried oh so hard to gently nudge his reddening tip up into your welcoming core. The little bit of wetness you produced had made it a bit easier, maybe foreplay would’ve made it better.

Ah, but you finally tried to sit yourself down properly onto his lap, trying to fit the fullness of his length into your dripping cunny. What a pretty sight. Nipples hard from the coldness, goosebumps along your arms and legs from him caressing you so gently. In what heaven did the Gods choose to send you to him?

Soft sounds of delight left you both once you fully settled down onto his lap. Darry could feel each little involuntary squeeze, the occasional squirm due to you adjusting to his size. Darry was no small man, he knew this clearly. But... you did make his ego inflate just a bit.

“Shh, I know, sweetie. Gimme a sec, yeah? ‘S gonna feel good, promise.” He hummed into your ear, hands finding the fat of your ass as he scooped it up for some leverage.

And soon enough, with the solid grip he had on your rear, he gently began rocking you. Up and down more than left and right, but regardless he was doing the work and it made you pout a bit. But great heavens, the way his length so perfectly knocked at your cervix and made your insides burn with glee...

Maybe you could allow yourself to let him do the work for a bit, right?

Soft noises escaped you both, grunts and huffs you were unable to silence even if you wished to. Darry was never one for things like bondage, blindfolds, all that junk. Just some real, raw enjoyment with you.

And that’s what he got. Your pussy, unwavering in its joy, didn’t cease to flutter or squeeze around him whenever he knocked at the little g-spot you had. In fact, he quite liked seeing your expression go from neutral to a scrunched eyebrow.

“You like it, sweetie? It’s all for you, take what you need from it. Been so helpful.. little minx in those damn shorts whenever you’re cleaning the livin’ room. Take what you need from me, want you to feel my thanks.” He huffed, ragged breaths causing the sentence to sound breathy and shaky.

You nodded lazily, lethargy making your legs ache but you kept yourself hanging onto him. Hips met his in a needy attempt to get more friction, and Darry happily complied to give you what you wanted. To give you what you needed.

And it wasn’t long after that you found yourself addicted to a rhythm that had your spine trembling and hands seizing onto any flesh of his you could grab. The warm skin helped to ground you, even if it wasn’t exactly what you needed. 

Darry was holding you so tight, resorting from gripping your ass to just simply holding you in a half-hug so he could still move you around. He managed to stuff his head into the crook of your neck, the area clear except for the little bit of natural hair growth on your neck. He had to stop himself from moaning somehow, right?

But he couldn’t hold on for long once he felt the aggressive tightness your cunt was squeezing onto him when you came, he just couldn’t hold on. And soon his cock was pouring out his fresh, fertile seed into your welcoming womb, the obscene noises you both tried to silence finally escaping as heavy breaths and low whimpers.

Good grief, that was a bone-rattling orgasm for you both.

Darry couldn’t pull his face away from your neck, a bit embarrassed for making such kiddy noises just from cumming. But once he finally pulled away to clean himself up and you in the process, that warm smile lining your lips was all he needed to confirm that it didn’t matter.

So like the gentleman he was, Darry gently pulled away from you and laid you back onto his mattress before grabbing some tissues and wiping away the excess mess in between your legs. So gentle, so tender. And once he cleaned himself off too, you both spent the night in each other’s arms.

Silent, but in a good way.

Hopefully no one heard...

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[diejager]

Johnny with a s/o that shy in the streets but a freak in the streets. She loves giving pleasure, doing anything he wanted. (Love your work)

Cw: smut, bdsm, rope, cuckholding, orgasm denial, sensory deprivation, collaring, puppy play, nipple play, rimming, pegging, anal fingering, riding, anal sex, dom!reader, sub!Soap, tell me if I missed any.

“She’s a shy thing,” were the first words Price used to describe you when Soap brought you to the base for a visit. 

You were glued to him on your short visit, yours softer hands locked between his calloused ones, clinging to him like a lost puppy after finding the perfect caretaker. You spoke with a hushed tone, eyes finding interest on the ground or the dirtied boots they wore so often that it felt like second skin, and smiled shyly. It was a small but adorable grin that made Soap’s heart throb with adoration.

You were a shy creature with people you didn’t know, preferring to keep to yourself - he knew that - but he’d gushed so often about his team and how’d you like them as much as he spewed about his lovely life with you in his arms, welcoming him in the best ways possible when he was off. You nodded at everything Gaz said, flashing him a little smile that made Soap so happy that you got along with them despite your insistence of sticking to his side. You listened intensely to everyone talk, small greetings and formalities before they got to the nitty-gritty of knowing each other. Even Ghost, Soap’s stubborn friend, had broke down and shared a bit about himself.

But Price was wrong, he was farthest from the truth about you being a shy thing in a whole. You were - in simplest words - a freak. When he expected you to be as soft and tender as you were in the kitchen, dining room or cuddling in his arms, you were a beast in bed, a wild and dangerous thing that left him panting and wanting without a lick of release if you felt particularly cruel. Truly, you were a bit timid, a loving person and the best he could ask to have as a lover, but you were also the strongest person he’s ever known. 

You could have him on his knees and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, lapping at your feet with his ass arched up like a birch in heat —he might as well be with how much he listened to you, letting you tie him up and string him however you wanted. You had him at every beck and call, a quick whistle from you and he’d come bouncing around the corner and into bed, stripped and prone for any manhandling from you. You would tie him to the headboard in the softest rope you could find, promising that you’d take care of him and that he was so pretty when he was restrained, his cock hard and angry between his legs, twitching and throbbing with precious pre rolling down his engorge head from the black cock ring. 

Sometimes you’d wrap a soft lace over his eyes, blinding him from seeing your after you strip teased him, leaving him writhing and panting around his ring gag. You denied him his release, testing him with every teasing touch over his sensitive nipples - he always was more reactive when blindfolded, depending on his touch to feel and understand the world around him - pinching and pulling at the piercings he impulsively got. You’d ride him to tears, wetting the blindfold in a darker shade, using his body as a vessel for your pleasure, fondling with his heavy balls or pulling his perky nipples until he milked him dry of cum, leaving his cock spurting thin ropes of water cum.

Other times you had him on a leash, a red collar wrapped around his neck that gave you leverage whenever you pegged him, splitting him in two on the thick strap on you wore to plough into him. All that led up to it was an extensive hour of foreplay that left him needily barking at you. You had him collared, on his knees and elbows, back arched and rutting back against your lube-soaked fingers. He moaned when you rimmed him, circling the wrinkled ring of his ass and feeling it twitch around the tail you plugged him with to ready him for a night of debauchery and pleasure. Foreplay: stretching him with your fingers and tapping his prostrate to loosen him up, and care were important part of your book, you vowed to care about your “cute pup”.

“Aye, ” Soap nodded, throwing an arm around you and pulling you closer by the hip, “Aren’t ye, hen?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[bunniesanddeer]

Hiiiii! I was wondering if I could request a fic with a sick reader? I'm currently sick with the flu and am looking for a bit of comfort :(

Hi! I am sorry for taking a bit to respond. Needed some sleep after work. I wasn't sure if this is exactly what you wanted, so I am sorry if it isn't. This is just some minor fluff from the perspective of Alastor.

Sick

Pairing: Alastor X Sick!Reader

Tags: Sick reader, fluff, minor angst, allusions to sickness and Alastor's past.

Word Count: 1,048

Alastor did not like when people got sick. He did not like seeing their snotty faces, or listening to their fevered rambles. He did not like getting sick, either. The Radio Demon hated it. It reminded him of being a weak child, and it was something he actively avoided. In order to do so, he avoided sick sinners, giving them an even wider berth than the average sinner. That is, until you got sick.

It had been a normal morning up until Charlie spoke up. 

Charlie had called your name as the group made their way to the dining room. Alastor had been setting the final platters down. They were heaped full of pancakes, and waffles, something you had requested recently. He looked up from the table, making eye-contact with a confused Charlie.

“That’s weird,” she said. “Normally they’re up pretty early. Has anyone seen them?” Charlie looked at the group, and got shakes of their heads in response. 

Yes, that was odd. Normally, by this time, you were up and following Alastor around the kitchen. He rarely let you help, but you always sat in the kitchen with him. Sometimes you would ask him silly questions about his life, and sometimes you would sit, sipping your drink, and listening to whatever music he played. 

Alastor realized that it had been quiet all morning. (Something in him twinged. He had completely forgotten about your morning ritual! How rude). “Well, my dear! You get everyone settled in for breakfast. I’ll go see if they have merely lollygagged in bed too long!”

Charlie thanked him with a smile and a thumbs up. He didn’t respond, merely making his way past her and towards the stairs.

When he finally got to your room, he knocked on your door with a flourish. Alastor’s ears twitched as he listened intently. Nothing. There was only silence on the other end. He knocked again. Still nothing. With a sigh, and a mild form of discomfort, (one did not just barge into another’s sleeping space!), he opened the door, and let himself inside.

The room was quite dark. The curtains were pulled tight across the window, and the room had a musty smell to it. Something made Alastor feel the slightest bit skittish. Hmm.

There, on the bed, was a lump swallowed by blankets. He rolled his eyes. Ah! You were merely avoiding the day. With little sympathy, Alastor ripped back the blanket, to be met with the sight of you curled into the fetal position, eyes barely blinking open.

“Al?” Your voice was rough, and nasally. “Wa’s goin’ on?”

Your eyes had crusts at the corner, and your face was flushed. Your hands twitched, and your breath seemed to whistle just the slightest.

Gross. Alastor was immediately on guard. He did not want to get sick. He wanted out of this room.

But the sight of your exhausted face, made him think twice. He pondered over the situation for a moment, before gently putting the blanket back on the bed, gently tucking you in.

“I will be right back, dear. I am just going to go get some water and a thermometer,” Alastor said, taking off from the room before you could respond. His hands itched. If he was being honest, the drive to send someone else to take care of you was definitely there, but… You were ever so sweet on him. He couldn’t understand why, but he wasn’t about to repay that shred of kindness by abandoning you.

Alastor made his way to the kitchen, and to the medicine cabinet tucked in the corner. He pulled the thermometer, and after briefly reading over some labels, one of the medicinal syrups. He grabbed a cup, a plastic one he was not about to give a sick person a glass that they could drop, and filled it with water. On his way out, Charlie caught his eye. Alastor merely shook his head at her, and made his way back to your room.

Back in your room, Alastor helped you sit up, and propped the thermometer in your mouth. The back of his hand settled on your forehead, a strange habit he would never break. Your face was full of exhaustion, and it reminded him of another face, and he needed to force himself to focus. 

“Just a moment, dear. Then I can give you this water,” he said, waiting for the strange thermometer to beep. He pulled it out of your mouth with a gentle tug, and read the number. “Ah. 102. You definitely have a fever. It’s not severe, but let’s help you get better.” Alastor handed you the cup, keeping the bottom of it supported as your weak grip held it. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he set the cup down on the bedside table. He settled down, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“M’ throat hur’s,” you mumbled, your eyes blinking slowly. “An’ I don’ think I can eat anythin’ right now.” 

Alastor hummed. “Yes, I suppose we can let you rest now. We will get some warm broth in you later. If you do… expel later, it will be much worse on an empty stomach. Plus! Some good always helps heal the body and soul.” His claws push back some hair from your forehead. You lean into his hand, making him pause. (He would pretend the way his chest suddenly ached at the sight meant nothing. It was better that way).

“Can I have a hug?” Your voice is rough, but you’re looking at him with such hope in your eyes. Alastor can feel his smile get involuntarily tugged wider. 

“Hmm. I suppose. He crawls up onto the bed, and settles besides you. You were much smaller than him, so he towered over you, even as he settled against the back of the bed. You immediately turn and nuzzle into his side, face tucked into his ribs. His arm wraps around your shoulder and back. Alastor decides to ignore the fact that you’re sweaty, because he’s being nice, not because the way your arms wrap around him cuts off his thinking. 

“Sleep, dearest. I’ll be here.” Alastor hums to himself as you fall asleep.

He doesn’t like when people get sick, but perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing.

Asks are OPEN!

[skipper1331]

A Bronze // Esme Morgan

Being Lucy Bronzes younger sister was fantastic yet hard at times.

Lucy was a loving, caring and proctective (!!) sister - she would do anything for you. You loved her with your whole heart and playing football at a professional level together has always been a dream of yours.

When you got your first call up, she was the first person you called. Same thing with your call up for the euros and same thing now with the world cup.

You were beyond excited. There was only one problem.

With Lucy being in Barcelona and you being in Manchester you haven‘t had the chance to tell her that you were in a relationship. It wouldn‘t feel right telling her through the phone - your excuse. At some point there was a (high) chance that she would jump into a plane and fly straight to you.

To be honest you haven‘t told her yet because you‘re scared. Scared of her reaction or rather of her behavior towards Esme. She would rip her head off. And you really-really liked Esme. Nobody besides a few of your City teammates knew about you.

"Not kissing you all day long will kill me" Esme whined as she pulled at the hem of your shirt. Your arms looped around her neck "Don‘t be so dramatic" you chuckled. Esme fake gasped while clutching her heart, making you laugh. Her favorite sound.

Arriving in camp was a relief. You and Lucy were glued to the hips, updating on your lives. It was nice to see and talk to her in person again. Until now you never realized how much you missed her.

The first few training sessions went smooth. Esme and you kept things professional - acting like friends. Yet sometimes you caught yourselves staring a moment to long at each other. You would sneak lingering touches when nobody was watching or kiss in empty rooms. You couldn‘t help it you were just so in love with one another.

"What would you think about if we told Lucy?" you asked as you sat down at the table. The table was still empty only Esme and you already sitting there with plates in front of you. "Tell Lucy what?" Said person asked. Esme chocked on her water. She didn‘t mind telling her yet she feared Lucy kind off. "Luce! Hey" you smiled through your nervousness. "Tell Lucy what?" her tone was rough. She hated when she didn’t know things- especially when they involved you, her little baby. "Oh nothing! No worries" smiling, you tried to convince the defender. Of course with no luck. "Y/n" she grumbled. "I‘m dating your sister" Esme blurted out. The whole dining room went silent. "Does she have death wishes?" someone gasped. Jordan was standing behind Lucy who was about to explode. "Come again?"

"I am dating Y/n" she took your hand to emphasize her words.

Something clicked inside Lucys mind. You dating someone? No absolutely not. "Do not touch her!" aggressivly, she parted your hands. "Y/n? Is this true?"

"Yes" you looked down, not because you were ashamed but because you felt horrible. You knew Lucys eyes would tell you that she‘s hurt because you didn‘t tell her. And you also knew that her eyes would be full of fury. "Lucy I-" abruptly, lucy shoved her plate to Jordan and grabbed Esme by the collar of her shirt. Even though the blonde was tall enough to have her feet on the ground it was still intimidating as hell. "Lucy!" you yelped. "You better leave my sister alone or you will have some real trouble. Understood?!" your attempt to break them apart was as successful as a shark trying to climb up a tree. pretty much impossible. "I'm not afraid of you" the audacity to talk only made Lucy angrier and made you smile bright. Nobody ever tried to fight your sister for you.

"That‘s enough!" Millie and Rachel grabbed Lucy and shoved her the other way. Lunch was over for her. "Fuck. Are you okay?" Worry laced your voice as Esme was free. Her hand rubbed her neck while the other one was shaking. "Ye-yeah" you pulled her down to sit. "Jordy, could you - you know?" Jordan gave you a nod before your attention was back on Esme.

Lucy was sitting in the gym trying to calm herself down. It was hard. You‘re her little girl how could she not be mad. She was hurt that you didn‘t tell her. She was mad at the fact you were dating someone. not because of a relationship but of the risk of you getting hurt. The worst pain for her isn‘t any physical, seeing you cry/hurt that‘s the worst pain.

One of your first matches for the senior team ended with you being hospitalized due a head injury. The cry of pain which left your mouth was horrific. It haunted Lucy for months. "Hey" a calm voice said. Jordan. "Here‘s your food" carefully, she sat the plate down. "Thanks"

While they ate in silence Lucy appreciated Jordan being there. "I‘ll tell you that because i'm your friend", the villa player started as they finished their meals, "that was such a shit move" which ended with a smack to the head for the Barcelona player. "It’s your sisters girlfriend"

"She‘s too young for a relationship" Jordan looked at her with her 'seriously?' expression. "Esme is not good enough" again, Jordan looked at Lucy with the same expression. "Well. Let‘s look at it from this perspective: would you rather have a total stranger to be with y/n?" No reply. "That‘s what I thought."

"Doesn't mean I approve it"

"You don't have to approve it, at least for now but for starters you can respect them."

Only a grumble was heard.

"For what it’s worth, I think they‘re good for each other"

"I don't"

The next few days Lucy didn‘t talk to either one of you yet she watched from afar. It stung. After not seeing each other for months she was now ignoring you for who knows how long. It made you sad and angry.

"You look hot" you said to Esme as there was a water break. "Than-" she started, her cheeks turning crimson. you didn‘t mean that kind of hot in the moment. Yes, Esme was hot in your eyes but - "Let me help you" with a quick squeeze of your bottle you splashed her face with water. "Hopefully, you don‘t become a mermaid" you laughed referring to H2O, a series you love. A loud gasp escaped the blonde who was chasing you by now. "Arghh come here" the defender smacked her arms around your hips, turning you around so you could face her "that wasn‘t nice, baby" she tried to have a stern face but was failing miserably. "ooopsie" catching her off guard as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, you entangled your body from her arms and ran away again.

Beach day with the team; while some of your friends were walking to the ocean others were talking or playing in the sand (tooney and lessi) whereas Esme and you sat in the sand enjoying the sun. The blonde was hugging you from behind as you laid your back on her chest. Under the sun rays she looked like a goddess. You fell in love with her all over again. "You should stare at the ocean not at me" your girlfriend whispered so she wouldn‘t ruin the vibe "you‘re way more beautiful" was your only reply. As she locked eyes with you you saw the way they lit up after your confession.

Even though you were with Esme and/or the team most of the time your heart was still broken. You missed your best friend. And your girlfriend could tell. She saw the way you would look at Lucy - she would never look back at you. She saw the way your mind was spinning, thinking about If you should approach Lucy. When Chloe (your roommate) told Esme that she heard you crying in the night the defender decided to take the problem into her own hands. It was hurting you - so it was hurting her.

"Lucy! Wait" the blonde pleaded as she saw Lucy alone. "What?" her voice wasn‘t angry or rough, it was normal yet her facial expression was stone cold. "Look, If you don‘t like me that’s fine but ignoring y/n isn‘t. It‘s her first world cup.. you should support her." Lucy didn't want a lecture so she turned around, ready to walk away. "Do you know she requested number 12 on her jersey because of you?" That statement made her stop in her track. "It was your number at the World Cup 2015. She admires you and it hurts her that you don‘t talk to her." Deep breaths, Esme, you can do it. What Esme was about to say took a lot of courage to say out loud but she knew she had to tell Lucy. "I love her, okay? I really do. She- she doesn't know that I do but I do. And I want to make her happy but she‘ll never be fully happy If you aren‘t in her life. So please.. just talk to her."

Lucy thought about Esmes words and how true they were (If someone asked her, she would never admit it). As well she talked to Jordan about them who agreed with Esme (like everybody would) and as the night went on Lucy was determined to work things out with you.

After training was finished the next day you found yourself sitting on the pitch, staring into nothing. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally.

As soon as you felt a presence beside you, you knew who it was. It was the one person you desperately wanted to talk to you. There was a silence for a few minutes. Lucy had to sort her thoughts before she could start her apology.

Esme was standing with Hempo, Chloe and Alex. Even though she knew that Alex was talking, she couldn‘t listen. She tried but her gaze kept glanzing to you. "Are they gonna make up?" Lauren asked as she saw Esme looking towards you. "I hope they do."

"I‘m so proud of you." the Barcelona player started "and i‘m sorry" she wasn‘t looking at you and you weren‘t either. You both stared straight forward. "You were a bitch" you stated. "All- all I wanted was your support" tears started to build up but you didn‘t dare to let them leave your eyes. "I know and i‘m truly sorry but you have to understand-"

"What?! What do I have to understand?! You should love me unconditionally! Not matter what," your voice started to get louder with each word.

"Stop right there! I won‘t be accused of not doing so. I was there when you had your first football match. I spent hours playing with you. I was there at every important game of yours." by now her voice was also loud. "It was me who was there every step of the way. It was me!" Well, the tears you tried not to spill were running down your cheeks faster than you liked. "Then what do I have to understand?" your voice was back quiet. Small. "I am your big sister. I need to protect you" her voice level back to normal. "Esme won‘t hurt me" you laid your head on Lucys shoulder while her arm went around your back. "I know. She‘s a good one" your gaze wandered to your love who was already looking at you with a smile on her face. "She is"

Maybe things weren‘t fully solved yet, but for the beginning it was a step in the right direction. And with the Bronze sisters back as a team and a World Cup ahead it could only get better.

—————————

[bumblesimagines]

this wasn't supposed to happen.

i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

we should do that again sometime.

Fiona Gallagher

we should do that again sometime.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

As consciousness seeped into his body and his senses slowly awakened, he was hit with a few realizations that quickened the process of waking up. He couldn't hear Génesis babbling away in her crib nor the loud strays he often fed mewling for food outside. The springs in the mattress beneath him dug slightly into his skin and the smell of cheap booze and perfume lingering in the air invaded his nostrils. The mattress abruptly dipped slightly and strands of hair tickled his shoulder, startling the exhaustion fully out of his system.

The room around him was unfamiliar. The walls were covered in chipping paint, there were enough clothes on the floor to give to twenty people, random bottles of water and beer were sat about in different places, and there were odd stains on the barely visible rug. The chaos and mess of the room made his skin itch. (Y/N) exhaled quietly and tilted his head to look at the owner of the bedroom. Shit.

"I can't wait for ya'll to meet them. I swear, they are the kindest people in this whole city." (Y/N) hummed, absentmindedly listening to his cousin's girlfriend go on and on about their neighbors, the Gallagher family, as he raked his fingers through his eldest daughter's hair and detangled the small knots that had formed. Veronica held his other daughter at her hip, cooing and clicking her tongue to keep the toddler entertained whilst they made their way over to the tall house right next door. 

"V's right, (Y/N). You'll love 'em. Debs and Talia are gonna get along great." Kevin piped in and scrunched up his face at Génesis, a wide smile breaking out on his face when she burst into giggles and gleefully clapped her tiny hands together. Talia clutched her dolls close to her chest and tentatively peered up at the house when they entered through the front yard. 

"I bet Carl's going to be tripping over himself when he sees Talia." Veronica giggled and gently pinched one of Talia's reddened cheeks, listening to her boyfriend pound loudly on the front door until it swung open and a teen's freckled face greeted them. He looked between them all curiously and a fond smile appeared on his lips when he noticed the bundled-up toddler in Veronica's hands. 

"Hi, I'm Ian." He introduced himself a bit meekly and stuck out a lanky arm to shake (Y/N)'s hand before stepping back and allowing them to enter the house. The house seemed bigger with an archway connecting the living room to the kitchen and dining room. There were two staircases on opposite sides of the house leading up to the second story, nearly each step covered in toys and beer cans alike. It looked like a tornado had rampaged throughout the rooms but (Y/N) tried to contain his judgment and put on a smile for the family. Veronica had mentioned there was only a twenty-one-year-old managing all five of her younger siblings with their drunk father occasionally crashing on the couch. 

"Oh, a baby!" A little girl not much older than Talia squealed and sprang up from the couch, nearly trampling her brother in the process of reaching them and earning a swift glare. She jumped up onto her toes and smiled widely as she delicately ran her finger over the back of Génesis's hand, cooing softly and introducing herself. "Hi, baby. I'm Debbie." 

"Guys, I'd like you to meet (Y/N) and his daughters, Génesis and Talia. They're going to be stayin' with us next door for a little while so make them feel at home, alright?" Veronica called into the living room, barely drawing the other teenager and his little brother's attention away from the action movie playing on the television. She scoffed quietly and muttered under her breath before flashing the woman heading down the stairs a smile. The pretty brunette returned it and gasped softly at the sight of Génesis in her arms. 

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" She cooed warmly and chuckled sweetly at Debbie's fascination with the baby, one hand rising to comb back the hairs sticking out from Debbie's ponytail. He assumed she was Fiona Gallagher, the eldest daughter taking care of all the kids. Fiona was tall and slim, almost lanky like her brother but held a more at-ease air to herself than he did. The bags under her eyes were subtle, just barely noticeable, and her hair had been tied up into a messy ponytail that barely restrained the wavy locks. She looked up from Génesis and met his eyes. Her brows slightly lifted and her lips parted and closed, a hint of red spreading across her cheeks. 

"Nice to meet you, Fiona."

He'd promised himself before leaving Kentucky he'd stay in his lane, that he wouldn't involve himself with anyone again for a while. Talia's mother had been one thing, someone he couldn't bring himself to be resentful despite her refusal to be in their daughter's life. They'd been two naive fourteen-year-olds messing around who faced the consequences of not being more careful. Becoming involved with Génesis's mother, however, had been his fault. The lengthy criminal record and history of short relationships should've been big enough red flags to abort ship before they could be tied together permanently, but he'd ignored them and her own recklessness led to her incarceration. Two failed relationships, two motherless daughters. With his shit luck, he could only hope Fiona was on some sort of birth control.

"Fucking hell." He sighed heavily and rubbed his palm over his face, making vain attempts at ignoring the subtle throbbing in his temple. (Y/N) pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge, picking his briefs up from the floor and slipping them on. Fiona groaned quietly behind him and he peered over his shoulder at her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched out across the small bed, the mattress beneath her creaking with each movement. 

"Jesus, I did a number on your back. Sorry about that." She chuckled and tucked some of her frizzy hair behind her ear a bit sheepishly. Fiona sat up and leaned back against the wall, one arm reaching out to rummage through the nightstand until she found a cigarette pack and pulled one out. Dangling one between her fingers in his direction, she said, "We should do that again sometime."

"No, Fiona, this wasn't supposed to happen. I- I have too much on my plate right now to deal with... whatever you want this to become. I don't need the girls getting confused either. I appreciate the warm welcome into the neighborhood but... for your sake and mine, we should just stay as neighbors."

[corriganatheart]

When will you publish the next part of if he was mine can’t wait so excited

if he was MINE Pt. II/ João Félix x reader

Synopsis: You’re secretly in love with your best friend, who is in a toxic relationship.

Pairings: João Félix x fem!reader x Mbappé

Genre: One sided romance, and love triangle.

1 month after the World Cup

“Bro, come here. I need to spill something,” Achraf Hakimi says as soon as his best friend, Kylian Mbappé, enters the locker room. His other teammates, who pay no attention to the duo, were too busy talking and preparing for practice to care. It has also become customary for Hakimi to tell Mbappé the latest gossip, and most of the time, it is useless, so no one really cares about his “teas.” “If this is about babysitting your kids so you can have some quiet time with your wife, I reject,” Mbappé says immediately, knowing his best friend's motives. “No, you asshole, this one is even juicier,” Hakimi says and pulls his friend's arm before anyone can hear. Glaring at Neymar, who was curiously staring at the duo, Hakimi leaned into Mbappé’s ear, “Y/N has requested I give you her number,” he said while wiggling his eyebrows. Mbappé surprisedly yelped back, but he was grinning. “Seriously? Then what are you waiting for?” Mbappé excitedly says and shoves his phone to his friend. The others saw a shift in Mbappé’s mood and looked at each other, wondering what the gossip was about this time. “Do you know why they're not friends anymore?” Mbappé asked. Hakimi looks around the locker room and leans in, “they got into an argument about Magui again, and he’s back with her.” Mbappé stares at his friend in disbelief, it has been a almost a month since the drama started, and there were rumors that João has finally moved on, but now he’s potentially back with her. That can’t be good.

“What the heck are you guys talking about this time?” Neymar asked while approaching the duos, Messi following behind. “Oh, you know, the usual,” Hakimi sassily said, causing Neymar to roll his eyes. “You need us to babysit your kids again so you can get laid?” Hakimi angrily throws a water bottle at Neymar, causing everyone to laugh. “You guys are the worst kind of teammates!” Shrugging, Neymar waits for Mbappé to answer his previous question, but the man just shrugs. “You’ll know it later. It’s a surprise.”

1 week later

Breaking news: João Félix's best friend Y/N, who was once caught up in cheating allegations with him, has moved on. She was caught dining with PSG star Kylian Mbappé and was seen leaving the restaurant together, holding hands. Mbappé, best friend of teammate Hakimi, was seen cheering when Morocco beat Portugal in the quarter-final. Could Mbappé hang out with Y/N to add more fuel, or could this actually be a true romance?

2 minutes later

The Golden Boy: I can’t believe you would do something like that to spite me. I have been trying to talk to you for a month, and you pull this shit. Now my name is brought into the drama because you’re known as João Félix's best friend; leave me out of this drama. Good luck fucking that womanizer.

Incoming call from Kylian

“Hey,” you said, leaning up against your bed.

“Tired yet, bèbè?” He asked, and you could hear video games being played behind him and a couple of his friends snickering and teasing him in French.

“No. I saw the articles; I didn’t expect them to come out so soon,” you shrugged. Mbappé laughs, “that’s how fast the paparazzi are. Sometimes they know shit that even I didn’t know about myself.”

You smile and hear the background noise finally getting quieter, meaning he’s now in a secluded area. “I had fun tonight,” he says, causing you to smile. “Same; thanks for dinner.” Mbappé hums, and you hear him sigh a relief. “Look, I mean what I said about being interested in you, but I get it your feelings aren’t going to go right away. And I would be up for this relationship,” he says. You stay quiet and think about the potential of harming Kylian and João’s feelings. During the dinner, you talked about what happened because Hakimi had spilled the tea. And Mbappé understood that you’re doing this to get over João and make him jealous. At first, he was disappointed, but he likes you, so he volunteered to fake date you. “That’s going to be a lot of drama, you know. I don’t want you to be harassed for it.” Kylian didn’t say anything for a quick minute, but then he cleared his throat. “As embarrassing as it is to admit this, dating you would also clear up rumors about my sexuality. People have been saying weird shit that I’m into men, but let me tell you, I’m really into sleeping with Women.” You laughed because you’ve seen TikTok’s being made about that, and you wouldn’t even care if he was or wasn’t. But you had an idea that he’s pretty straight because so many women have complimented his style in the bedroom.

“You can always back up whenever you want,” you said. “I don’t want you going into something that will potentially harm your reputation.” Mbappé shrugs, obviously finding no harm in faking a relationship with you. “Same goes for you. If you feel like you’re falling for my charms, feel free to back out,” he teases. You laughed and thought of all the possible consequences that could happen. Mbappé is said to be a womanizer, but he has not made a move on you like you thought he would, but he is a flirt. If anything, people would assume you guys are just casual and wouldn’t be surprised it didn’t last. On the other hand, your friendship with João might never be the same. He was already upset that you were photographed with Mbappé, so imagine if you confirmed your relationship with him, you might never be best friends again. “Hey, ima let you get some sleep,” Mbappé says softly. You smile because his voice is just so charming, and if your heart didn’t belong to someone else, you would’ve folded immediately. “Thanks, Kylian, goodnight.”

Breaking News: João Félix and Magui Corceiro confirms to be back together. The duo took a short break after a cheating scandal but seemed happier than ever from the Instagram pictures that Magui posted.

Kylian: Fly out to watch us Saturday? 🥺

You: N meet your nosy ass friends? Lol

Kylian: you are bound to meet my circle anyways😏 we are dating remember?

You: “dating” I suppose I should be supporting my “bf”🤔

Kylian: awe you hurt my feelings with those quotation marks 😓 I got a t shirt for you btw🥰

You: 😲 is it Neymar’s?

Kylian: fuck no! you’re wearing my name

You: jk😝 ig I’ll see you Saturday then!

Kylian: okay bébé🙌🏼 I’ll book you a plane ticket, and you’re staying at my place. 😌

You: why the heck would I do that? 🫥

Kylian: because I am ur man. And besides it’s safer for you to stay with me. 😇

You: fine. but no funny business👀

Kylian: what funny business?🤔

You: don’t act all innocent Kylian.

Kylian: ahhh😱 Y/N! I am a child of god🙏🏻🛐. Why would you think I’ll do such a thing?😤

You: 😑…….🙄

Kylian: hahahahha promise no funny business. Unless you of course ask. I am a gentlemen, I would never say no to a lady😶

Kylian: hello???

Kylian: bébé come back!!

Kylian: alright fine ig u do have a life. See you Saturday love❤️

“Can you believe it?” Magui asked while zooming into the news article of Mbappé following you on Instagram. “They might actually be dating.”

João stares at what his girlfriend is referring to and immediately looks away when the photo of you and Mbappé holding hands appears again. Ever since you guys basically ended your friendship, he hasn’t been the same. Every day and night, he would think about what you said and the possibility of you being together. All these years, you’ve hidden those feelings, and looking back, it was pretty fucking obvious that you are in love with him.

João groans and lies back on the couch as his notification goes off. Ever since Magui posted the photo without his permission, he has been getting text and hate comments. Everyone thinks he’s a sore loser for getting back with his ex, but even he didn’t know they were back together until he woke up in bed with her. Last week when he finally decided to give up on speaking to you, he went out and drank with his friends without knowing that it was a setup and Magui was there. Everyone ended up taking shots, and the next thing he knew, he was in bed with Magui doing everything he could to get you out of his mind.

You were his best friend, everything he ever wanted in a friend. But the idea of dating you never crossed his mind because he did not want to lose you. João knew he was always attracted to you, but he shoved the thought deep inside his heart because he didn’t want to ruin the friendship. If he had known that you liked him for a while, maybe things would’ve been different; perhaps he would’ve considered it. But then he met Magui, and she became his world. She was everything he wanted in a girlfriend, but he still needed you. There were so many arguments in his relationship about you, but he couldn’t choose just one because you’re his best friend and she was his dream girl. But since you left him, his feelings have been very complicated, and he wasn’t sure. He has missed you more than ever, and even the idea of being with his dream girl wasn’t enough. He needed you, but he didn’t know how to tell you without hurting everyone else.

“Babe, I’m talking to you,” Magui whines, frustrated that her boyfriend has been drifting off lately. “Sorry, what did you say?” João asked. Magui frowns and rolls her eyes, “I asked if you knew she’s been sleeping with Kylian?” João just stared at her, wondering where she got the idea of you sleeping with Mbappé. He knew you were friends with Hakimi, but you’ve never mentioned it to him about Mbappé, and you tell him everything. “She’s not like that, so it has to be serious,” João says bluntly, the thought leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “Oh please, do you think Kylian Mbappé would want a girl like her?” Magui asked with disgust. João narrows his eyes, not liking how she is talking about you. “A girl like her?” João asked for clarification. “Yeah, you know, hoeing around footballers to be relevant,” Magui shrugs. João sits up and glares at his girlfriend, “like what you did when you were with me?” This causes Magui and himself to be shocked because he has never mentioned their past. When João forgives, he let go of the pain, because he doesn’t want confrontation, but he has had enough of her treating him like trash. “Honestly, I don’t fucking know why you cheated on me so many times. The idea never occurred to me once, and the fact that you did it so many times only shows how little you care about me and this relationship.” João aggressively stands up and grabs his jacket and car key. He then starts heading to the door, but Magui wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him. “You know how much I struggled because you keep having her around. Things will change because she’s not here anymore. You only need me. It’s me, you need and want. I love you so much, João; no one else but you.”

These were the words he had always wanted to hear from her. She was everything he wanted, but being treated like shit can only reach a specific limit, and he has reached it. But before he let her go forever, he needed to confirm something. João turns around, and without warning, he presses his lips on Magui’s. She accepted it with a moan, mouth savoring the way he lusted for her. She holds on to his t-shirt and starts backing up to the couch, wanting to dominate him. João let her, and the next thing she knew, he was on top of her, looking down at her, anger and confusion written all over his eyes. “You taste like shit. You don’t taste like the girl I fell in love with. I deserve better than you. Go find someone else to be your puppet because I am done,” he says disgustingly. She whimpers, but he doesn’t care; he gets off her and starts walking away, never looking back.

Saturday: PSG vs. Borussia Dortmund

Hakimi: Fuck you for not telling me that you were coming.

Y/N: Hello to you too. And it was a last min decision lol.

Hakimi: whatever. Anything happened last night at Kylian’s house? 😉

Y/N: no you sinful child. we slept like a baby.

Hakimi: whatever😒 anyways party at my place after the game.

Y/N: bruh u confident asf

Hakimi: bitch if I lose I’m not going to eat ice cream and cry. I’ll just party and drink in misery 🥳

Y/N: damn are you always this pleasant before your games?

Hakimi: my bad😬 I haven’t been laid for two weeks, so I’m in a pissing mood.

Y/N: I can tell. Since I’m in town, I’ll just babysit so you can have ur date night.

Hakimi: Fr? Awe you’re the best! I’ll make sure to dedicate a goal to u😉

Y/N: yeah whatever. Goodluck!

You join Hiba and her two sons in the VIP section. They’re sporting Hakimi’s number as you wear Mbappé’s t-shirt. Hiba had told you that Hakimi had told everyone you’re here to cheer for Mbappé, and the whole team has been teasing him. You’re sure they probably asked about João too and wondered if you guys are still friends. If anything, this was entertaining to them because Mbappé has never publicly brought a “girlfriend” around them.

“Look, it’s Jude Bellingham’s wife and their two twins!” Hiba said excitedly as she pointed at a really attractive lady with two adorable children. “Wow, they’re so cute,” you said in awe as you watched the little girl jump up and down, wearing her father’s shirt. The boy stood there like an adult with his head high, and he looked just like Bellingham. “They’re young, but they seem to be happy and have the perfect family,” Hiba says with a huge smile. “It doesn’t matter when you find the right person.” You mumbled. You then look at Jude Bellingham, who is staring at his wife and kids in awe. He looked so in love, and you hope one day, you’ll find someone that looks at you like you’re the most perfect thing in the world. (Reference to Jude Bellingham x reader “If I Should Stay”).

As you admire how Jude Bellingham looks at his wife and kids, you think of the chances you could have if you let go of this ridiculous feeling for João. Maybe you’ll find someone who loves and looks at you similarly. Maybe your Mr. Right is waiting for you while you chase after a guy that doesn’t want you. You smile sadly, and then your eyes drift to the PSG side to see Mbappé staring up at you. His eyes smile at you, and his mouth curves upward when you make eye contact. Your stomach twists, and your face heats up from his stare. You awkwardly wave, and he places four fingers on his lips and sends them your way. The crowd starts going wild, and you’re left stunned as Mbappé smirks and walks away.

Your phone was going off wildly as the news made it around that you’re attending PSG’s game and are supporting Mbappé. Everyone has concluded that you two made it official because, on his first goal, he dedicated it to you by sending a heart your way after he scored. The crowd obviously went wild, and people were telling one another the news, and you’re now labeled as Kylian Mbappé’s girlfriend. Even though this is fake, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. He was flirtatious and knew what he was doing. It almost felt real, and for a moment, you forgot the purpose of faking a relationship with him.

“You know he’s down bad for you, right?” Hiba asked while staring at you. You awkwardly chuckle and shake your head, “it’s nothing that serious,” you mumble. Hiba smiles and looks back at the field. “I have known Kylian for years, and he has never brought a woman around us. If he is showing you off for the world to see, it’s obvious he wants you and wants to tell everybody to back off.” You stare at Mbappé, dumbfounded about what Hiba just said. You’ve known the man briefly, but you realize he has known you for years because of Hakimi. Everything Hakimi knows about you has been passed on to Mbappé, who later took an interest in you. For someone whose always hyper and happy, he is one of the most mysterious people you’ve ever met. From pursuing you secretly to fake dating you, he has a side of him you don’t know but want to know.

“You enjoyed the game, bébé?” He asked as soon as you entered the PSG waiting room. “Yeah, it was good. Congratulations,” you said and hugged him. He gladly accepted it, causing his friends to snicker and whistle in the back. “Kylian, you going to introduce?” Neymar asked with a smirk. Mbappé glares at him, “this is my girl, Y/N.” Your face once again heats up from the sound of that. “Cute name for a pretty girl,” Neymar says and shakes your hand. “Mbappé’s a lucky guy.” You giggle, causing Mbappé to glare at you and Neymar; it was pretty cute seeing him jealous. “That’s enough,” Mbappé warns, causing Neymar to shrug and back off. “Oh, come on, be mature,” Neymar says while rolling his eyes. Ignoring Neymar’s comment, Mbappé quickly grabs his stuff, along with his car key. “Let’s go. I got some plans for us.”

“You assholes, don’t forget about the after-party!” Hakimi calls after you and Mbappé as you guys rush out of the room. “Use protection!” You heard someone else shout, causing Mbappé to laugh and you to blush. Like expected, a couple of paparazzi were already waiting outside to catch a glimpse of you and Mbappé. Mbappé and a couple of his security guided you to his car; many people were already snapping photos and screaming their questions.

Y/N how do you feel about João Félix and Magui getting back together?

When did you and Mbappé meet?

Are you guys official?

How do you feel about João Félix unfollowing Magui?

You entered the passenger seat, staring at the person who shouted that question. It has been a while since you’ve been on social media, so you haven’t heard the news of João unfollowing Magui. If it were true, you would be shocked because that is a step to moving on, and he has never taken that step. But then what would be of your relationship with him? Would you guys be friends again? And what would happen to your fake relationship with Kylian? Would you guys have to end it faster than expected?

“You good?” Mbappé asked while staring at you. You smile and him and shake off the weird feelings. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you smiled. Mbappé tucks a strand of hair behind your ears, “you looked great, by the way. How was your first time experiencing being a WAG?” He grins while pulling out of the parking lot. You chuckle; being a girlfriend of a high-profile sportsman was better than you expected. Besides sitting in a VIP seat, the experience of watching someone you are with play the sport they love was unique. Of course, this experience wasn’t new; you’ve been to a lot of João’s game and has supported him, but you were never the person to whom he dedicated his goals. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. I know exactly what to cheer you up!”

“Kylian. Omg, when did you do this?” You asked while looking at the setup in front of you. It was beautiful. He has a huge comfortable couch on his balcony with pillows and blankets laid out. A coffee table was placed on the foot of the sofa, with all your favorite snacks and drinks. Five feet from the couch stands a movie theater screen. Candles were light and lined up on the edge of his balcony, and the Eiffel Tower could be seen from his balcony. It was incredibly beautiful.

“Achraf parties always end up with everyone passing out, so I wanted us to spend time together,” Mbappé says while guiding you to the couch. You still admired how beautiful everything looked; you almost wanted to cry because of his effort. “Come on, I don’t want you getting cold,” he says, and you lay on the couch as he lays next to you and covers the both of you with a warm blanket. The movie starts, but you guys don’t focus; both of you want to get to know one another on a deeper level. “Tell me about you, Y/N,” he says while grabbing the bucket of popcorn. “Tell me things people don’t know.”

“Are you asking for my favorite color?” You laughed, causing him to smile softly. “I will take whatever you give me,” he says, and you didn’t miss your heart jumping. No wonder people call him a womanizer; he knows exactly what to say. “Well, people don’t know that I’m secretly in love with my best friend…former best friend,” you said. Mbappé nods, waiting for you to continue. “Ahum, people don’t know that I’m insecure about being labeled as João Félix's best friend or now Kylian Mbappé’s girlfriend.” Mbappé stares at you, not looking the slightest offended by what you just said. “And people don’t know that I have a very important position at my job. I’m not just a pretty face.”

The movie plays in the background as you continue to tell Mbappé about yourself, even things that João might now even know, and not once do you think about the drama that is occurring in your life. “And yeah, that’s how Magui ended up hating me.” Mbappé watches you fidget with your fingers and bite your lips, his heart pounding from your effect on him. “Why do you like him so much? Why do you….love him,” he asked seriously. You glance at the screen and then back to Mbappé, “because he was the only person I ever had.”

Mbappé stares at your uncomfortable form, and he softly rubs his thumb across your cheeks. “I wish I have met you earlier,” he says softly. “Maybe then, I would be an option.” You gulp, realizing he’s referring to being with you without a reason. You’ve known he’s interested in you, but you thought it was just an interest that would disappear after spending some time with you. “If you were this sweet to a fake girlfriend, I can’t imagine how you would be with a real one,” you muttered. Mbappé smiles and gently places a kiss on your forehead. “Why don’t you find out?”

You stare at him; he carefully examines your face, waiting for you to say something. Mbappé asks you to be his real girlfriend, but what about João? Your history with him hasn’t been resolved yet, and after hearing that he has unfollowed and dumped his girlfriend, things might change. Would he apologize and ask to be friends again? Your feelings for him are still there, and it wouldn’t be fair for Mbappé. You needed to resolve things with João first before thinking of another man. But the way Mbappé was looking at you only makes you want to forget about João and leave everything behind. Clenching your pants, you slowly lean forward while staring at his lips. Mbappé does the same, and just when you guys are inches apart, your phone rings.

You awkwardly back up and reach for your phone. Looking at the user, your heart starts beating fast. Mbappé glares at the username, knowing who “The Golden Boy” is. Without meeting his eyes, you answer the phone. “Hello?” You asked. “Y/N, I need you,” João says; your heart beats fast because he sounds broken like he just finished crying. “Fuck I miss you so much; I need you right now, please,” he begs. Because you were used to responding quickly to his pleas, you immediately jumped up from the couch and started walking away when Mbappé grabbed your wrist. “Stay,” he says, and there’s pleading in his eyes. Your voice was stuck in your throat, and you listened to João’s pleas for you to be there for him and Mbappé’s eyes begging for you to stay. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled and pulled your hands away before exiting the balcony, leaving Mbappé behind.

Getting into the taxi, you glare up at Mbappé’s home, the balcony now dark. He didn’t come down when you hurriedly packed your belongings and booked the earliest flight home. You feel guilty, of course, but you’ve known this man for a short time, and you’ve known João your whole life. Although your friendship wasn’t perfect, he was there for you when you needed him, and you weren’t ready to let that go. With a heavy heart, you look away from Kylian Mbappé’s place and look forward to your journey home.

2 weeks later

Breaking news: Kylian Mbappé and Y/N officially call it quits after only a few weeks of dating. Many fans were suspicious of their relationship and suspected they were only short-term. Mbappé is now only focusing on his career and has no interest in starting a new relationship, whereas Y/N has reconciled her friendship with João Félix, and many fans think that might be the reason for the breakup.

Part III is coming! Are we team João Félix or team Kylian Mbappé?

Part III

@poopyloofy @simpingmyassoff @smiley-roos @untitled23430 @ts1mp0ne @forevernightmare @sad1esgf @kakuchosbff

[pierofilm]

𝐍𝐢𝐢-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

2023 | 18+ | S. SERIES | KOGA YUDAI × READER | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: a decade without a mother to tend to your maternal needs had instilled a broken trust inside of you, but atleast you got the warmth of your wonderful father who persisted by your side. thus came the day, where a woman with eyes of the stars came around—bestowing rays on his days and you were more than delighted to accept her into your arms, but to your surprise, you were not only letting one person inside your home but two.

GENRE/WARNING yandere content, high school au, stepcest lol. (not a English native so prob plenty of grammar errors btw)

WC 7k / short series with three episodes with smut in the finale.

《 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟏 : 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 》

Playing house.

You've always adore playing house; as a child, you would sprint all the way back home just to play house with your little sewed toys and dolls. You couldn't care any less about peers your age or what they do, or what the recent updates going on about gaming or whatnot. 

For the very reason was because of a present you solely grew to adore with all your little heart could contain; which was your little playhouse your Papa had given you as present, leaving it on the table in your room on the very night of your birthday just before the midnight strikes.

Your eyes fluttered open and that alone, the sight alone was what melted your heart. And you'd never grew bored to repeat this no matter how much days, months, and years had passed.

The pure joy of placing your dolls in their respective seats, tiny teacups and porcelain plates in the purest white laid out neatly on the round small table, as you sat on the comfiness of the cushion on your knees while you talked about your day and everything little thing that occurs with the widest grin spread on your face. A tea party, or more specifically, 'an exclusive tea party'; where only the most trusted and important members could attend and dine in, they could even stay as long as they want even when the host had excused themselves which was very explanatory who it was.

You'd served them imaginary tea, or sometimes an exquisite wine when you feel like it. And depending on the time of the day, you'd serve them a plate of sandwich or bowl of soup. Sometimes the topic of the conversation with your little dolls would go as far as saying that you'd totally love to have your own little family someday, a perfect man like your father, be the perfect mother of your babies just like your mother.

Perfect, perfect; you lose count of how many times you repeated this word but how could you when you've been blessed with such perfect parents with flaws nowhere to be seen?

You happily enunciate each word to your little dolls, deeply sure that their animated yet still face are nodding along with your words.

Just like they always do.

They were much very trusted that you could talk about your imagination and your tiny aspirations of becoming a mother, just like your mother—where she could be seen from the kitchen, preparing tasty meals that left your mouth watering and heart palpating in doses of excitement. She was your inspiration, you wanted to be like her, to have your own babies and care after them with the utmost affection you could ever give; bath them, cook meals for them, give them a glass of milk, play with them, and then tuck them to bed as you read fairytale story books to them or sang a good night lullaby, ending the routine with a tender kiss on their cheek and forehead.

You would care for them, love them, embrace them, and tell them how much you love them every single day of their life. How wonderful would it be? How perfect it would be if it could come true?

Perfection. The frame of perfection binding the forms of your parents together with the little you in the center as you hold their hands with the widest smile and pride. Like the hard cover of the fairytale book you stumble upon a bookstore, displayed on the very front of the big glass window just enough for your little orbs to see. 

Lavender ink spilled through the hard letter carvings, and onto the exquisite art of their main characters, their shadows just enough to display their very personalities. That's how you imagine your little perfect family, and that's how you would like it to be in the future as well.

Innocent, untouched and untainted, sheltered with affection and love, just and justice, and a happily ever after carved on the end of the page.

Yet unfortunately, your happily ever after was nowhere to be found on the last page. Heck, you didn't even got into the last page before the one character you envisioned to be the definition of perfection was the cause of chaos and the embodiment of a rotten apple. 

It slam you the page of reality, ripping through the edges like silk turning into mold; contorting your face into expressions you've never knew existed, and stirred your hearts in emotions you've knew would be so ugly and terrible—leading you to believe that a perfect family of three would never existed at all. The rosy lenses obscuring your eyes finally ripping away to see the reality in front of you, that your dream isn't always going to come true.

That a family won't be as perfect as it is like it does in fairytales.

Until one day—

"You found someone?"

"Was she nice?"

"How does she look like?"

—was the question you bombarded your dad once you found his face smeared with a suspicious grin, one that you knew ain't anything related to his playful tendencies to you.

Strolling around the kitchen counter he did, as he dodged each and one of your question with;

"I'll tell you soon."

The sun peered through the glass pane, reflecting your childish pout you threw at your dad. Sighing relentlessly as you huffed through your room, throwing yourself on the bed. Pulling your phone out of your pockets, punching the password keys as you scrolled through your socials—ultimately stumbling on a picture of a family, a perfect picture of the widest smiles adorning their lips.

A wave of sadness washes over your soul, yet you breathe a sigh out—scrolling down to get that picture of your sight.

Refreshing and refreshing in a constant loop, with a lingering hope floating in your heart.

Days had gone like usually, yet not a day had gone by without you asking your dad though. Another pout emerged from your lips as your munch on your noodles, slurping in a spoonful of soup, relishing yourself in the delight of freshly cooked ramen.

The warm broth had you wondering when was the last time someone, or more specifically, a woman had cook for you and your dad? All this time, it was your dad that tried his best to serve good food for you, opting with simple menus from online and copying them as best as he could, just so he can replicate the warm meal your mom used to make.

Little did he know, his presence itself was the warmth enveloping you.

Going about your usual days with your usual errands, you grabbed a basket of laundries—throwing them inside the washing machine, punching each buttons with your fleeting thought. You've did this a thousand times enough to know, more than your peers might say or do. A life you've been working so well with ever since your mom left you and your dad. A tragic event that perhaps had instilled your beating heart a spiraling hatred towards her. 

You barely even remembered her face, nor you would call her mom. And you couldn't care any less. But you remembered one thing, and it stuck in your head like a superglue—stubbornly refusing to peel away.

Or more like a bloodsucking leech that devours your thoughts whenever it resurfaces. 

She said it herself with her pair of eyes that you used to cherish ever so lovingly, looking down at you with utter contempt as if you weren't her own flesh and blood, "This family has done nothing but bring me down," and her eyes fell on your little form. "And that child, do whatever you please. Get rid of her, place her into any adoption center, or just dump her any where you'd like. Just never call me again."

You despised her, you'd wish she had stayed and persisted to be with you and your dad. But reality seem to be wholly different than what your favourite fairytale literatures showcases. Yet as ugly it had became, your love for fairytales remained---the proof of it being your shelves filled with dozens of thick books of them.

Hoping that your dreams of simple, comforting, even if not perfect---but atleast complete and not with these hollow, hollow void.

That's why you didn't mind, and was more than elated to find that your dad has found someone. Someone that would make him happy, someone that would show him that it's okay for him to enjoy his life now. He did his everyday best for you, for ten years with no complaint. And you'd wish someone would do the same thing for him. You truly wish.

The one that would truly stay unlike that woman did.

Thus came the day, your dad finally broke the news with this lovely woman who was apparently a Japanese. He met her on a rainy day, after his work, under the pavilion in the park. It was short of nothing but two adult stranger having a brief talk, but that was all it takes for your dad to know that she was the one. Atleast that's how he feels, your dad clarified. 

Yet they clicked instantly, your dad grins—looking down at his sweaty palms. He baffles at how he might sound like a teenage boy in love, but that's how it spills into his heart like butterflies shooting up in confettis. 

She was lovely, sweet, and caring; a poet at her young age, and a well-loved and respected school teacher in kindergarten. From then on she built herself a solid foundation throughout her life, just like everyone but just like your dad, she was a widow but in a different circumstance.

Every description of the lady had your lips tugging up in a small, satisfied smile. Hoping that this was really it. The desire grew stronger and bigger the more your dad talks about her with his lips almost reaching his ears.

"And ah, by the way she had a son. One that is so like her, kind and gentle. He's a few years older than you."

The growing inches of the your lip's corner was interrupted with the mention of an older step-brother. Eyes widening in few centimetres, trying to take in the new information you barely expected.

"A son?" You repeated, and your dad nodded twice in response. That's what all it takes for you to utter a 'what the fuck' in the back of your mind.

You've lived your entire life as an only child, opting to play with a few neighbour kids down the street once in awhile yet it never came to you to desire for a sibling, you were far more contented in your own. But to have an older step brother at this age? You didn't know what to expect of it. 

It had you thinking that you have to try and have a good relationship with him if this truly did work. What are you even supposed to do with him? Act like friends or straight up treat him like a brother? A boy you barely knew? A few years older even?

"How.." you tilted your head in mild hesitation, "Exactly old is he?"

"Twenty."

Great, a wonderful twenty year old step elder brother, truly wonderful!

You sighed exasperatedly, mind running in circles and wondering why are you even troubling yourself so much with it when it wasn't crystal clear yet that this blossoming relationship would even continue to bloom till winter.

A ting of curiousity surfaces over your mind, "What's his name then?"

"Kei, but that's his nickname. I'll leave it to you to ask him yourself when the day comes." Your dad gave you a playful wink at the end, obviously he's truly indeed waiting for that day where he could introduce you to the sweet lady that caught his heart, and of course for you to meet your supposedly new step brother.

So much for a guessing game.

"Don't stress yourself about it, he's a good boy."

"Hmm.." you hummed in return as you lie on the couch with your arms on your head, pondering of what to do. But judging by how your dad also swoons over the boy, then he doesn't seem to be that bad, isn't he?

Then what could go wrong?

"Whatever it is, i'm happy for you, dad. That's all."

The widest grin adorned your dad's lips, and this was a memory you will strive to keep in forever in your heart.

Quite a few months had passed since then, and you'd hear nothing from your dad but news about how the relationship grew more serious and inevitably sweeter; your dad would meet up with Ms. Koga—which he revealed as her surname a few days ago—twice or thrice a week due to their respective careers with tight schedule but that never deter them from having dates eventually.

He'd talk about how their little dates went on, or what kind of conversations they had and how she was the one and that they'd clicked instantly in almost anything and he said all that as he did a little dance across the kitchen with you as his audience, chin on your palms as you let out an amused chuckle.

Those little stories coming out from your dad had your belief in true love surfacing back again, just like those romances in fairytale books; first meeting and a doses of love floating in the air, which will soon follow with the promise of loyalty and true love, and at last—a ring that glistens under the spherical summer sun; one that represents eternal vows as it slips on the groom and bride's ring finger.

And so it finally did, the proof of it appearing on one fateful day with your dad sitting on the couch. A pretty red little box on his palms, opening the cover once in awhile to showcase the shiny diamond ring fitted nicely in the center. He gave you a brief peck on your forehead, asking you to wish him good luck before he went out for a dinner date with Ms. Koga. Coming back later he did as he entered the door with the widest grin stuck on his cheeks, to be greeted with that same wide grin every day would be your one and only wish.

Bliss.

Your dad's eyes was brimming with bliss, constantly spinning in circles and asking you which tie would fit his dark blue suit the best. And you couldn't help but shake your head at him, helping with the barrage of folded ties inside his closet.

"This one." helping your dad with the troublesome tie, you imagined how this would be the last time you'd help him, and how sooner and later---someone would come and will no longer let him stay alone like he did for the past few years. You finished with straightening the tie down, telling your dad to fix his hair up a bit with your lips curving up in a soft smile before you went to the mirror, checking your last fit one more time; a plain white dress but with a small bow your back, adding a delicate touch.

At least you wanted to look presentable to the lady who's about to be your dad's wife, and of course, your future stepmother. First impression always sticks.

The place where you're going to meet by the way was in the famous coffee shop in the city, a place being the favourite of Ms. Koga and her son—your dad clarified.

However the moment you heard the word 'coffee' though—was enough to send blaring alarms in your head, as it meant apparent death, unfortunately.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans wafted from the kitchen, spilling in an almost visible and hazy smoky trails that enveloped the entire inner cafe—might be soothing to some, but for you—as soon asit hits your nostrils, it had your nose immediately scrunching in return, almost gagging.

Coffee was nowhere your favourite, and you'd prefer not to stumble on any coffee shop as it only had your soul draining in utter nausea. Might even kill you that is, if you could've leave then you would've, but a little sacrifice here and then for your dad ain't that hard to do, right?

You took your seat beside the glass window, earning a pretty view of the street outside where a bunch of other stores and shops are lined in a row, crowds passing through like hordes of ants to their respective destinations, and the luminous blue sky bestowing it's rays on the greenery plants adorning the entrance of the coffee shop.

For awhile, you thought it would probably take long before they would come as you turn on your phone to check the time, but you were proven wrong.

At last, you met her; the very lady your dad compliments to the moon and back, with her eyes sparkling like stars, he often mentioned to be her most prominent feature.

"You're (Name)?"

"Hi, Ms. Koga." You bowed down slightly when your dad mentions her arrival, too disturbed by the spiraling smell of coffee in the cafe that you failed to notice her beside you at first.

"You're so lovely, beautiful even." She takes in your hands in hers, brushing her fingers tenderly on yours. "I'm jealous that you had such a gorgeous daughter."

The sweetened lullaby emitting from the lady had you curling inside in shyness. Yet it didn't deter you from observing the way her hair were let down in wavy curls, framing her face in such a loveable portrait which exudes in dripping motherly vibes. Her aura had you instinctively leaning in to give her a hug, a tighter embrace than you'd imagine. The lady was obviously surprised by your approach, yet as quick as she got surprised, it was also the same for it to dissipate like a breeze passing over your frame. Her motherly hands brushed across your shoulders and down your hips, her fingers returning the same warmth. 

Your chin buried on her shoulder, leading you to sniffed in her comforting scent—which had you wondering just what type of perfume she was using as every other person you stumble on had a bold and thick scent it had you in nausea just like coffees do.

You pulled away, quite regretfully with a lingering desire to embrace her more. 

"Your daughter is very sweet, I have to say." 

Your dad agreed, patting you on the back. "Glad to see you two going along well."

The lady nodded in returned, a tender smile adorning her lovely features, one thing you particularly notice about her was the prominent feature of her pair of boba orbs. The sun rays reflected off her eyes like marbles, even. With her fluttering eyelashes adding to the animated portrait as she converse with your dad. She truly was gorgeous, in fact. You couldn't help but agree how your dad could fall for her, and just like that you can't help but imagine the events your dad had told you about their first meeting like a romantic retro footage in your head.

"So where is Kei?" Your dad asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, he's running late. He had club activities to attend to, so.." She glanced down at the watch on her left wrist, "It might be around—oh, there he is."

So the son of the devil has arrived, isn't he? 

You cleared your throat, preparing to introduce yourself to the boy who might be very well your elder brother from now on, might as well make the first impression as perfect as it can be so it won't be as that difficult to meet him every now and then on once you two started to live together. Heck, you'd certainly die if it were to become very awkward. But you weren't just sure how to address him depending on how this first meeting played out, calling a boy a few years older than you and one you barely knew "older brother" had your body engulfed in utter cringe. You'd go as far as to suggest to just call him by his name, if he agrees that is. But why were you so invested and concerned about this? You haven't even talked to him yet, seriously.

"Kei, come here."

And so that was the first time you lay your eyes upon on the boy, one that you were curious of along with his mom. Your jaw parted slightly in surprise as you took in his towering height—it's almost intimidating but his innocent features spreading all over his face like a fresh breeze in the summer rain were a stark contrast from his height, and his sense of fashion utterly being different from what you've initially imagine or him.

You've imagine him to be an embodiment of a delinquent or a bad boy, that is, despite your dad's description of him being kind and gentle. Not this neatly ironed white buttoned up shirt with a black tie adorning the collar and black pants. The black frames of his glasses perfectly fitted on top of his nose, and his hair neatly combed down his forehead making him perfectly presentable to any formal meeting, or just simply introducing him as a perfect candidate for marriage.

Like a doll that was very well taken care of, and treated with the utmost care and attention.

Huh, what was that last words for even?

Your eyes met his behind those glasses, and the first thought you had was—he surely is the son of his mother. They had the same pair of eyes resembling the breath of animated verdure, his nose—not really, but his full lips certainly resemble hers. They had the same hair colour, although his was more in a darker shade. You held your breath as you saw tiny stars shimmering on his boba like eyes, was that even an imagination? Or perhaps a trickery orchestrated by the sun rays drenching on the brown tiled floor and the sudden appearance of light rain pit pattering on the concrete road outside?

"Hi, I'm Kei. Pleasure to meet you, little sis." His faint pink lips pulled up in a small polite smile, as if he was so delighted to see you. His introduction was nothing but simple yet it was his addressment towards you that had you visibly taken aback, the heck him with adjusting so quick? Surely, his voice was dripping in honey tones and almost as melodic as the bird's chirps but it was almost as if he enunciate those words in mischievous tone. Were you just simply imagining it because of your over-the-top concerns? 

"Uh, hi." You forced an awkward smile as you raised your palms waving a brief hi, which you hope weren't that too visible.

He greeted your dad shortly after, bowing down 360⁰ degress like the ideal model student which the vibe he obviously emitted since he stepped inside the cafe.

The chair emitted a slight creak across the tiled floor when he pulled it and seated himself in front of you, his bangs swaying back and forth like silk—you almost wanted to touch it. A hiccup escaped your throat, pulling you back to a logical state as to what the heck is wrong with you today? These mother and son, it was almost like they had casted an invisible magic spell on you and your dad. Or was it simply because you've never stop indulging yourself in thousand fairytale literatures to compensate for your so-called mother issues? 

Four cup of coffee were later served and placed neatly on the table, their colours completely contrasted each other; yours and your dad were pure white, and Ms. Koga along with her son; being pitch black. The only main resemblance they had was the golden rim, adding an exquisite look on them.

Yet as pretty as it look, it didn't do nothing but to have your insides churning in disgust and nausea at the wafting smell of the coffee in front of you.

Your dad and Ms. Koga went on with the conversation, talking about you and Kei's childhood and per se. Some of it leaving you with your jaw dropping immensely as your dad exposed an embarrassing childhood photo of you, pulling it out from his wallet. Of course that didn't leave you being the only audience being heavily embarrassed here as the latter had been pulled into it as well.

Yet he remain unfazed much to your surprise, only pulling up a gentle chuckle as he nodded along. Like really? Does these childhood photos of him doesn't stir a bit of shame in his old folly days as a mini human trying to figure out life for the first time?

The way he acted is a tad bit similar to those princely characters in the books you read, as if he was fabricating a whole new character that are based on perfection. It gave you the ick, unable to ignore these growing weird sensation crawling on your skin but what if you were just too deep into your childhood traumas again?

Shortly after, your dad and Ms. Koga excused themself for a moment, saying that they're going for a short walk down the street which left you screaming inside cause you for sure don't want to be left alone behind with this boy. Well yeah of course, not really alone in almost packed cafe but still. You silently protested by raising your hand, hinting that you want to follow along but all of it was shut down in a matter of second when your dad added that you should try to get along with Kei.

And it didn't help that Ms. Koga told her son, with her lips curved up delicately, even. "Treat her well, and try not hit her up so much with nerdy stuffs."

A pout forms on Kei's lips, his glasses lifting up slightly. "I'll try, but can you really blame me?" He turned his eyes from his mom to you for a second, and then back at your dad and his mom again. "Have fun, mom. I'm sure we'll get along very well."

Your eyebrows knitted slightly in a frown, shrugging at the way he was so confident in his words. But oh well, maybe the feelings are mutual and he is just saying that to keep them in a good state of mind.

With the summer rain still pit pattering outside, your dad pulled out an umbrella in the round container, pushing it open and hanging it above their heads. You almost sighed with the sight of your dad and Ms. Koga exiting the cafe, their perfect picture as a couple walking past the huge glass window, not missing the tiny gestures of your dad interlacing his fingers with hers and the rosy hues dusting off Ms. Koga's cheeks despite her hair almost covering it.

The sight alone melted your heart and washes away the ten year submerged in nightmares into the ocean, making it still and serene. Like spring, frame of cherry pink petals blossoms and floats down their figure, and your heart prayed nothing but for their happy end to be not only at the last page but at every single page from now on.

A warning, a sense of dread engulfed every thumping vein beneath the depths of your skin, fingernails crawling across your bare skin even though you were fully clothed. As if..

Someone, someone, was undressing you with their pair of eyes.

You gaze at the window for a moment longer before turning away only to realize the boy; still seated, with his eyes fixated on you for god knows how long it had been. This uncomfortable sensation of his eyes on you had you burying yourself deeper into the seat despite it being totally impossible.

The dozens pair of feet scattering beneath your peripheral vision seems to slow down, beyond what a human could take. As if a footage playing in a slow motion, the audible sound of the pointed arrows on the clock as it moves down resonated through the entire space, and the space seems to grow larger but then it returns to its focal point; suffocating your figure in claustrophobic state, numerous pale arms with visible crimson veins emerged from the floor—clutching your legs in carnal desires to pull you down into the spiraling hole that resembles one of the prominent stories you've once read as a child.

Your neck remain stiff as you raised your head to met those pair of marbles looking down at you up and down. He had the smile of an angel, but the overwhelming dread consuming your body with his presence says otherwise. 

"I don't look like I eat people, do I?" The pearly white of his teeth emerges as his lips slightly parted with a mild amusement.

As if a magic casted on you has been broken, his voice pulled you out from the frozen and hypnotic trance you've been falling in.

"Don't be scared, I don't think I'm even capable of that."

"I am not scared." You replied, trying your best to smile a bit.

"Sure," Kei tilted his head, eyes fixated on the rim of your cup when he notice how you deliberately avoided to look into his eyes, anywhere but him. A brief silence follows after that, a very awkward one apparently. But it didn't deter him from keeping the conversation going even for a bit, "I have to compliment you for going this far though, you're such a good daughter to your dad. Kind of rare to see that nowadays."

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, finally looking at him but rather with a wary expression etched all over your face and eyes. "What makes you think of that?"

"Your cup," He gestured at your white cup with his eyes, "You haven't taken a sip yet." 

You look down at your cup of coffee, the content completely filled up to the rim, not once touched at the slightest. "Well that doesn't mean anything."

"Sure." He stirs the coffee in his black cup with a tiny spoon, slowly but with tender care. "But it sure takes an effort to only breathe through your mouth, I must say. If you'd like, we can go outside to take fresh air."

Taken aback by his observant eyes, you simply answered. "It doesn't matter, it's fine.."

"Then if you'd like, we could order something else."

"It's a coffee shop."

"Coffee isn't what it only offers."

A heavy silence forms between you two, thickening into an imaginary border which had you squirming uncomfortably on your seat, desiring to get this to end once and for all.

Getting caught once but not thrice, it sure does bring a hell lot of awkwardness for first time impressions. But are you even to be blame about not having any knowledge of it when you don't even have the slightest experience in being one for the last ten years in your life? Even so more so, you realize you didn't contribute anything to the conversation at all due to your huge distrust at strangers, especially the gut instinct crawling on your skin with this boy's presence being the main reason of it most of all.

Maybe this won't go well after all. Apparently it should have been, if not because of his initial addressment towards you. It doesn't sound right at all. Or maybe you were simply just not used to it?

"If coffee aren't anywhere in your list of favourites," Kei suddenly spoke much to your surprise once again, although rather slowly as if he was heavily choosing the right words to say but curiosity follows along despite it, and you waited in patience with a ting of uneasy, that is. "What do you love then?"

A harmless question.

"Books." You simply answered, yet added with an afterthought that you might be being too cold and wary around him. "Fairytales, and if it seems too childish for you, oh well—I couldn't care any less."

Or maybe not.

"Who says it's childish? That's like me saying that I love math, most people don't like it—much less find it entertaining enough to last with three minute video of it, but does it make any less worthless, or childish as you say or those people who said it?"

A mild pause in silence.

"It's short of nothing but a petty remarks made by less smart people, you see." A genuine smile you feel, made its way on his lips for the first time. "Take joy in what you love with less care of others."

Surprised by his unexpected words, "Well, I guess." Your shoulders drooped down after an extended time of being wary, your back leaning comfortably against the chair as you took a nice breathe in after awhile. "What do you do then? Math, you said."

"I majored for computer science, specifically programming. All those coding and stuffs."

"Looks like it." You replied nonchalantly, yet added with another afterthought. "That sounds cool, you really seem like it."

"You think so?" Kei slightly chuckled as he lapped his tongue at his lower lip, spinning his thumb around the golden rim of his cup. "I'm flattered, then. It took me quite awhile."

Your heart made a slight jump at the sight, which doesn't make sense. Surprised at your not-so-good reactions, you cleared your throat and tried to put in more effort into the conversation that it's now starting to ease up a bit.

"You'd make hell a good of mon—" You bit your tongue, maybe that's not quite a nice way to put it, you silently cursed at yourself. "How do you, I mean, what got you into numbers? Like, those complex stuff."

"Simply because they're complex."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I like it when things get complex." Kei looks into your eyes, stars shimmering on his chocolate brown eyes like it did awhile ago again, but this time the sun rays illuminated the edges of his hair—down to the edge of his cheeks perfectly; like an illustrated portrait breathing the soul of verdure into it. "It makes it fun and worth the prize. Easy is not my thing."

Fascinated by the trickeries of the damn sun rays again, you cleared your throat as you nodded—altering your position in the process.

"Isn't it that way in fairytales? Happy ending; efforts are needed before you can get to the last page with it's fruits laid out rightfully for you?"

"They are, happy endings are everyone's favourite anyways. Who wanted the latter? But I'm more a middle type of person." You corrected him, which made him raised his eyebrow in curiosity. "The journey."

"You mean?"

"Those little stuffs that happened in the characters' daily abouts of life. Like playing house, each person in the family plays their respective roles." With the topic of your interest, it naturally gravitates your attention to the window—catching the animated scene of tiny beads of droplets racing down the glass window, you added. "The little things, that's what make it worth it."

Kei lets out a breathless chuckle before raising his cup, looking at you through the lens of his glasses; taking a few seconds to observed the motion of your pupils following the trails of the droplets before a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, taking a sip in. "We're quite the same then, but in different ways."

"What makes you think of that? Doesn't sound like it though." Your focused attention breaks apart upon hearing those words, snorting disbelief as you turned your attention back to him.

"You mentioned no one wanted the latter, the bad ending." Placing the cup back on it's saucer, his fingers returned to brushed across the black frame of his glasses, pulling it off, folding it neatly as he placed it on the side of his table. "I like it though, I prefer when it tells the dark side of reality."

Your eyes lit up with his words, it piques your interest quite a bit for you to asked. "Oh really? Why?"

With his eyes no longer obscured by the lenses, you were able to get a much clearer view of his eyes. They are perfectly round, yet quite big in size which make them very much adorable. You swore you've never seen those eyes like his.

"They're way more fascinating, everyone desires for a perfect happy ending where everyone forgives each other, or perhaps for lovers to reunite together again, or perhaps.. because no one is truly ready to hear for the unnerving and sinful desires or actions of humans, or how far would they take something if it didn't go their own way."

"That's interesting." You breathe out a chuckle, realizing that you haven't taken a blink, you tried to blink a few times to get rid of the dryness consuming your eyes. His words truly pulled you into a deeper understanding of the topic, although like he mentioned, it's certainly unnerving. "Good for you I guess, but that doesn't make us anywhere the same, at all.

"Maybe," He tilted his head down on his right side playfully, the loose strands on his forehead following along like silk. He pushed his cup against your one; the pitch black and pure white contrasted one another, yet the golden rim perfectly blended as if it belong together. "—Or maybe you were reading the wrong book of fairytales all along this entire time."

"Please, of course I'm well aware of the real dark fairytales, those gory type of stories with endings like that. Sure, but not my kind of taste." You shrugged, remembering a recollection of your memories of those days when you tried to read those so called real and dark fairy tales you stumbled deep into the library. "They are not the very least comforting at all. Reality's already so dark like you said, so why intentionally put yourself into it more?""

"Of course, no?" Kei gave you a reassuring smile, "Why would it be anything wrong to only want for good stuffs?"

The soft rain had finally subsided, letting his voice turned clearer alike the grey lump of clouds breaking apart for the luminous sky to make its appearance.

"Just saying," Kei stares into your soul with a glimmer on his eyes yet obscured with faint obsidian hues. Like stirring an ink block on an inkstone, hypnotizing. "You already know that real fairytales aren't as pretty as we might think. But have you ever try to think that the correct term would be intriguing? The protagonist wouldn't let off the evil ones just like they do in those friendly latter, yes. Gory, of course."

He pauses, letting it sink into your mind.

"But that's what makes it exceptionally intriguing, don't you think?"

Amused but interested at his words, "Maybe? I'd never thought of it that way."

"C'mon, reality aren't so friendly, but that doesn't make it any less intriguing. I might say, it grew more tempting."

"Tempting? That's a new way to put it."

Kei leans in closer, resting his chin on his palms as his lips curved up in a delicate smile resembling his mother, pair of eyes that resemble objects you could describe. "Yes, temptation, aren't we all but a greedy, insatiable beings? Those characters, aren't they very much an almost perfect replica of us in real life?"

You briefly scrunched your nose playfully at him, gradually easing up to him despite the dark tones of the conversation since after all—fairy tales are the very thing that tugs your heartstrings and it's not once in awhile for you to find someone delving deep into the subject even if not exactly the same. "Bold of you to include me, I am not greedy at all."

"You sure?" Kei looks at you with mild disbelief, yet with a faint mischievous smirk etched on the corners of his lips. "Where there's a want or need, there exists the spectrum of greed."

"Like I said, I only want simple things, the little things."

"What do you want then?"

"A family." You answered the question with no hesitation at all, pride visible on your eyes and the smile on your face not only remains but grew wider, "Of my own."

A few beat of silence surfaces through the air, yet the ambient noise of the coffee shop replaces it instead. Soothing enough with the clink clanks of the plates, the lapping voices of the customers almost forming an orchestrated instrumental, adding the heavy scent of brewed coffee spiraling into the air in visible trails of smoke.

A slight chuckle soon squeezes its way out of the boy's lips, a small grin threatening to form on its corners. His palms made its way across his hair, ruffling the top of his head with his fingers---turning his once neatly combed hair to a disheveled one. "That's wonderful, I'm sure you'll be a great mother."

His now disheveled hair stirs quite a feeling in you that you couldn't fathom, but you smiled in return, thanking him. "Still, that doesn't prove your point that we're the same."

"Maybe?" Kei spoke in such a feathery tone that it brushes against your skin despite the obvious distance, you notice that he had his eyes on your cup before he spoke again. "How about you just give me yours, since you don't like it anyways?"

Your eyebrows raised in mild surprise, looking down at your white cup, the brown coffee still untouched "Oh, this? You can order another one though."

"Well, if you aren't going to drink it, it's all gonna be a waste."

He was right, what's the point in keeping it with you till it grew cold? You breathe out a sigh, "Alright, here."

You pushed your white cup to his side, his fingers subtly brushing against yours as he pulled it closer—having you pressed your lip in a tight line as you pulled away. You observed as he stirred its contents with the little spoon from his own cup—in a delicate motion. Raising it to his lower lip, he took a glimpse at you, "I like coffee anyways."

You watched as he drank the cup, finishing the coffee in one gulp down his throat. A scene that doesn't quite feel right, yet you brushed it off as another mere uneasiness of yours, "Can you suggest me some dark fairytales books you like then?"

"Of course. Why not? It would be my pleasure."

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission. / 02112023

[cjsmalley]

Wished Away 7:

Happy Thanksgiving (Early, I Know, Shut up):

“Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker wish to invite you to our Thanksgiving meal,” Damian said.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, “we’re a lot.”

Even without Damian, Bruce had many children and cooking for all of them was sometimes a tall order.

Damian smiled, “We are aware. You are not the only family we are inviting. Every child Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker has taken in we have invited along with their remaining family if they have any. Even the non-Americans have been invited.”

“We’d be delighted to come,” Alfred said for his family, “should we bring anything?”

“You may,” Damian agreed, “however, the chefs and cooks of the Palace will be preparing the main meal. It will be mostly meatless. Seitan mostly, in observance with mine and Mother’s dietary needs and our beliefs. It will also be made in-line with kosher regulations.”

“Cookies,” Jason said, looking at Alfred, “we can make vegan cookies.”

“Very well, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded, already planning for such a large batch, or several batches.

Damian grinned.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and the portal opened.

They filed through and were greeted by Sam, the younger Sam on her hip, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Sammy just waved shyly, gaining fond chuckles.

They all echoed the sentiment and were led through the palace to one of the ballrooms, “Not even the large dining room is big enough to hold our horde,” she said with humor.

“Oh?”

“Everyone invited came,” Sam explained before visibly remembering, “Oh, and any red wine you see? Not red wine; we have a vampire in attendance. He eats human food but not really.”

“Of course,” Bruce nodded; only Dick was of age to drink, of his children, but neither one really drank. Still, it was good to know.

“’m assuming the vamp’s friendly?” Jason voiced.

“Friendly as in doesn’t eat humans anymore, yeah,” Sam nodded, “but, well, Spike’s Spike. You’ll understand once you meet him. Don’t go after his humans and he’s nice enough.”

“Fair enough,” Stephanie nodded.

“Also in attendance are a Vampire Slayer, several witches and wizards, two magic superheroes…basically everyone you met at Damian’s birthday party’s here. I know Spike wasn’t there; he had to babysit the Hellmouth that day, so he’s really the only new face. Him and his daughter, Hope.”

“Vampires can have—”

“She’s adopted, from a separate dimension. Danny brought her to the Hellmouth group to hide her. She’s being raised by Buffy and Spike.”

“Oh.”

They finally made it to the ballroom; the doors were wide open; servants rushed forward to relieve the Waynes of the platters of cookies they carried before they entered the room.

Most of the room was divided down the middle by a cartoonishly long dining table, bench seating on either side of it. Settings were already in place.

In one corner was a padded and gated off area where Anakin and the baby that could only be Hope played. Well, played as only young babies could, which wasn’t much.

Dotted around the room were small clusters of regular chairs and beanbag chairs, some of which were already occupied, surrounding small tables with pitchers of water and juices and, yes, blood.

Spike the vampire was easy to pick out from the masses because he had a glass of what looked like red wine in hand. Nobody else did.

The Waynes spread out, first finding Damian to say hello, then mingling and visiting with the friends made at the birthday party.

Bruce made his way towards the vampire.

“’Lo,” Spike greeted lowly over his drink, Buffy at his side.

“Hello, Buffy,” Bruce said before smiling with a closed mouth, “and you must be Spike. Bruce Wayne.”

“Not an ape, mate,” Spike snorted, “won’t attack if you smile at me. Sit down, take a load off. Hear you’re Batman. The real deal one.”

“I am,” Bruce took a seat, reaching to fill a cup with orange juice, “where did you hear it from?”

“Dawn was excited; her little brother’s bio-dad is Batman,” Buffy explained, rolling her eyes fondly, “one of my friends, Xander, is a big comic book nerd.”

“Ah. I assume there won’t be any problems?”

“Not from us,” Spike agreed, nudging Buffy with a smirk, “my girl here’s a superhero too. Won’t be any trouble from our lot. Right, Slayer?”

“Yep. No problems from us. If Danny and Sam are good with you being…you know, you then we’re good,” Buffy nodded, “just as long as you don’t put Dawnie or Hope in a suit.”

“I don’t want them out there,” Bruce grumbled, “but if I didn’t help them, they’d all be dead by now.”

“We get it, honestly,” Buffy assured, “Dawn’s given us enough gray hair,” she grinned mischievously at Spike, “she’s even given Billy Idol here some.”

“Slayer, you know that pissant stole—”

Bruce laughed.

Everyone mingled and chatted for a few hours before the meal began; servant after servant carried food and drinks to the main table as everyone found seats on the benches.

Spike and Danny placed the babies into highchairs.

By the time everything and everyone was ready, the table was fairly groaning with the meal.

Danny gained everyone’s attention, standing and grinning, “Welcome to Thanksgiving Dinner at the Palace. Thank you all for coming, even our non-Americans for putting up with our silly traditions.”

The non-Americans laughed fondly, nodding; even Alfred cracked a smile.

“For those who’re probably wondering,” he continued, “our essential living staff celebrated at lunch and most will have the day off tomorrow. Everyone else had the day off today. Now, normally we’d go around and say what we’re thankful for but we’d be here forever if we did that tonight. So, while we eat let’s just think about what we’re thankful for and enjoy the food and the company. Oh, and just so you know, everything’s kosher and most of the ‘meat’ is actually Seitan. Real meat is on the green platters. But before we begin, let’s give a round of thanks to the kitchen staff for making the food!”

Everyone applauded.

“Now, tuck in!”

They all did so with gusto; the meal was magnificent and it was clear the Palace staff had put their all into it.

Most of the Seitan was shaped into meat product appearances, looking indistinguishable from the real turkeys and hams. And it tasted almost like the real things too.

The meal lasted well into the night and everyone went home stuffed and with leftovers.

[layla4567]

Teach me ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Adam warlock x fem!reader

Summary: You were a guardian of the galaxy but when your team broke up you decided to stay in Knowhere attending to other types of tasks. Now Adam, Kraglin, Groot, Cosmo, Phyla, and Rocket are part of the new team. And while you help with Nebula and Drax to take care of the children, Adam has an eye on you.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3k

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Since you left the guardians things had changed a lot. Although, well, it couldn't be said that you really "left" the guardians because you were still working in Knowhere, only now you were doing less dangerous missions. Now you were in charge of taking care of the rescued children and some animals as well. Your specialty was teaching them basic things like reading, writing, etc. Thanks to that, you were now nicknamed "Knohere's teacher" and you could only laugh sweetly when you heard it.

But you weren't the only one who helped with the care of the children, occasionally Drax and Nebula also gave you a hand, but you soon discovered that the children adored you more than the other two, maybe it was because you had more patience or instinct Motherly, you weren't sure. You still remember that time a girl approached you happily saying something that makes you smile to this day.

(flashback)

You left your room always well ordered and full of several different species of plants that you watered daily. Even though you no longer went on missions with the team, you still wore your special suit because it was comfortable and beautiful. You walked out the door tying your hair into a messy bun ready to greet the kids and teach them something new today. You were reunited with Drax and Nebula when a girl with close-cropped platinum hair and purple eyes approached smiling with a notebook in hand.

"Well?, are you ready to learn about animals today, Ulani?"-Drax said

The girl in response began to jump happily while nodding her head fervently.

"Good, Come with me and Drax so we can teach you.."-Nebula said as she took Ulani's delicate hand to gently drag her towards a room, but the girl stood stoically in her place as if she was bolted to the ground and looked at them with a frown.

"I don't wanna"

Nebula was puzzled looking at Drax as if asking for an explanation. He crouched down to be at the height of the little girl.

"What's wrong? Don't you want to come with Uncle Drax and Aunt Nebula?"

Little Ulani shook her head with a pout without breaking eye contact and then to your surprise she pointed a chubby finger at you.

"I want her to teach me"

Now Ulani was looking at you with those beautiful little purple eyes shining with enthusiasm while a big smile returned to her face. Nebula crossed her arms in confusion as Drax patiently asked why she wanted to study with you.

"Because she has a nice smile and she always draws pictures for me"

you couldn't help but cover your mouth to hide your laughter as you grabbed the girl by the hand and took her with you to study.

(end of flashback)

This is how all the children of Knowhere, especially Ulani, would visit you in your room so that you could teach them numbers, colors and other things that seemed to be fun and useful to them. Meanwhile, the new guardians kept traveling through space fighting aliens and all that stuff you used to do. Of course, the newest member that got everyone's attention was Adam, especially your attention. Several times when they returned from missions and went to work on Knowhere, you had noticed how Adam would look at you while you played teacher. Even sometimes when he stared at you and you noticed it and turned to see him, he quickly turned his head and looked in another direction pretending that nothing had happened.

You were heading towards some tables and chairs that were outside the Knowhere dining room with your bag with everything you needed: pencils, papers, etc. There were already four excited children waiting for you and clearly among them was Ulani. You had grown fond of the girl and she with you. She was the most energetic of all the kids you taught and was always the first to ask when she didn't understand something.

"Hello miss (y/n), we are ready!"

you smiled at such a cordial welcome and sat down in the chair next to them ready to teach them how to write. You took out a couple of papers and several pencils for them while you dictated a few simple words. They obeyed you, paying attention and copying the words in big, messy letters. While you was reading what they had written and correcting them, a somewhat deafening noise accompanied by a fresh blizzard that made the papers fly was present. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how the guardians' ship landed near you and Captain Rocket and the others came down from it. They got out and people came up to them surrounding them and cheering like they were rock stars. They was always received like this and it seemed that the mission was successful. Rocket thanked and retired to his room drinking from a glass with a straw, the others stayed greeting the people of Knowhere. You smiled admiring them from afar. Suddenly you couldn't help but see Adam, he was greeting an old woman listening to her praise while he gently held her hands, you tilted your head a little and an "aww" escaped your lips without even thinking.

Ulani noticed your sigh and raised her head from the paper to look at you. You had lost sight and smiled like a fool. The intrigued little girl followed your gaze and noticed that you were looking at the sovereign.

"They're amazing, don't you think?"

You shook your head in confusion with raised eyebrows looking at her.

"What do you say, little one?"

Ulani pointed to where the guardians were. "They, are the best warriors in the galaxy, especially that tall golden boy"

Your smile became small while Ulani smiled, it seemed that the girl knew how to hit the nail on the head or she just couldn't imagine that you had some kind of crush on Adam. You blushed, muttering a vague statement, you felt ashamed for having been caught red-handed. But just like that, you looked at Adam again only to find his gaze fixed on yours, now he was looking at you with a tender smile. You felt your ears redden and you smiled nervously greeting him with one hand, he returned the gesture.

When the class ended and the dictations were corrected and scored, you announced that the next class you were going to read them a story so they would learn to read. They squealed with excitement while you laughed in amusement. So much fuss caused the sovereign looked at you smiling delighted. You collected your things while you said goodbye to the children with a kiss on their foreheads. Adam put what he was doing aside and turned to you. You put your backpack on your shoulder and you were going to go to your room when you saw him approach you with a happy step, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

"Greetings (y/n), how are you today?"

Adam hugged you leaving you speechless, he always used to hug people including you but every time he did it you felt a roller coaster in your stomach, of course he didn't know

"Hello Adam, I'm very well thank you. In fact I just finished a class with the children"

"Yeah, I saw you guys. It looked like fun"

Thousands of thoughts passed through Adam's head and they were all about you. The sovereign couldn't stop thinking of you every time he went on a mission and when everything became dangerous and they were at risk of being seriously injured, he thought of you, and your sweet face filling his mind comforted him and gave him strength to continue. Go ahead and tell himself that he would finish the mission so he could see you again. And now seeing you educate the children his heart melted, your patience and the love you gave to those kids made him feel things in his stomach, he remembered that someone had told him what that was called… butterflies? Yes, that was it, he felt butterflies and he couldn't help it.

"The effort he puts into the education of these children is beautiful"

The words came out of Adam's mouth like a torrent, he didn't want to say them but they escaped. You looked at him surprised, not really knowing how to react. When he realized it, he looked down with regret and blushed, placing his hands behind his back and kicking an imaginary stone with his foot like a child would. At this behavior you giggled

"Thank you so much Adam, it's nice that you say that"

Now you looked down and they both blushed like two college teenagers. Why did you behave in such a foolish way when you were around him? Couldn't you act like a normal person? And why did he have to look at you with puppy dog ​​eyes all the time? He was about to say something when a scream interrupted him.

"Adam come here! the roof of a house fell again!"

It was Kraglin, Adam looked at me as if apologizing while you just nodded smiling. He floated away and you went back to your room with your pulse racing.

🍀💮🍀💮

The next day you woke up and remembered that you would read something to the children today, so you grabbed a children's book from a shelf, "Little Red Riding Hood". You were sure that the children would find that story curious. You smiled and left your room smiling with the book under your arm and your backpack hanging from your shoulder. You saw out of the corner of your eye that Adam was helping Rocket with some boxes. He looked at you and greeted you, you greeted him back and kept walking. Adam felt in the clouds every time he saw your eyes, that's why with a lost look he didn't realize that he had a box in front of his feet and when he wanted to take a step forward he tripped and fell with his red cape throwing on his face ahead and covering his head. You stopped, startled by the noise when you saw Adam lying on the floor and covered your mouth laughing in embarrassment. Rocket who was next to Adam did it too, but less subtle.

"HAHAAH, what's wrong Adam, did you want to kiss the ground?-Rocket exclaimed throwing his head back while slapping his knee.

Adam stood up quickly as he pushed the cloak away from his face with a flushed face as he watched you walk away shaking your head and smiling, surely now you thought he was a fool. You went to the usual place and you met your faithful student and two other children.

"Hi miss (y/n)! They are Ciro and Eber, they are my friends. I told them to come to hear the story!"

The two boys seemed more shy than their eloquent friend but they smiled at me with kindness and devotion. You greeted them gently and began to tell the story. You stood next to them so they could admire the drawings on the pages and continue reading with you.

"Once upon a time there was a sweet girl who loved her mother and grandmother very much. He helped them in everything he could and since he was so good on his birthday his grandmother gave him a red hood. Because she liked it so much and went with her everywhere, soon everyone started calling her Little Red Riding Hood."

you would read and point to the images, they would pay attention to you with eyes wide open. You never considered yourself a good storyteller, to tell you the truth, you didn't like your voice, but these kids seemed to like it. As you were turning the pages, you were pointing to the words so that they could repeat them slowly. You emphasized each letter and separated them into syllables to make it easier. Also, if they didn't understand something or didn't know what was mentioned in the book, you patiently explained it to them. Adam from afar looked at you curious and enthusiastic again, when he had finished his work (and after some reproaches from Rocket) the sovereign came a little closer to where you were to better listen to what you were saying.

"...The wolf sent Little Red Riding Hood the longest way and arrived before her at granny's house. So she pretended to be the little girl and knocked on the door. Although what he did not know is that a hunter had seen him arrive. "Who is it?", answered the grandmother "It's me, Little Red Riding Hood," said the wolf. "How good my daughter. come on, come on" The wolf entered, pounced on the granny and ate her in one bite. She put on her nightgown and got into bed to wait for Little Red Riding Hood to arrive."

A gasp came out of the mouths of the little ones who looked at the book with surprise, you smiled delighted by their attention. Adam seemed surprised and amused as well.

"..When Little Red Riding Hood entered, she found Granny different, although she didn't quite know why. "Grandma, what big eyes you have!". "Yes, they are to see you better, my daughter". "Grandma, what big ears you have!". "Of course, they are to hear you better". "But granny, what bigger teeth you have!". "They are for eat you better!!" As soon as he said this, the wolf pounced on Little Red Riding Hood and ate her too. His stomach was so full that the wolf fell asleep"

With each part of the body that Little Red Riding Hood named, you pointed to the eyes, ears and mouths of the little ones who laughed with amusement. But when the part came where the wolf ate Little Red Riding Hood, you growled as if you were the animal from the story and you began to tickle them and the children kicked their feet laughing happily. Adam also chuckled softly with a tender look. Ulani, Ciro and Eber were impressed by the story and above all by the way you told it, you gesticulated a lot and you knew how to interpret each emotion as if you were a theater actress. Suddenly the youngest of the children became serious and with a trembling voice said

"I don't think I like this story, the wolf is very mean"

You looked at him like a loving mother and caressed his cheek

"But don't be sad, the story isn't over yet"

This is how you reached the end of the story when the hunter found the wolf and filled its belly with stones, throwing it into the river, thus saving Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother. The children clapped happily and cheered, while you laughed lovingly. And again you promised them another story for the next morning, since it seemed that they adored it. You went back to pick up your things and Adam came over to help you.

"What a sweet voice you have to tell stories…"

You were surprised by his presence so close and his words charged with love that you awkwardly dropped the book you had in your hand. You and Adam reached under the table to pick it up when your hand accidentally touched his. They stared at each other for a few seconds until you looked away feeling your cheeks burn. You got up from under the table but not before Adam covered the edge of the table with his big hand so you wouldn't hit your head, he smiled innocently at you and said "careful". You thanked him, still blushing, and brushed an unruly lock away from your face, placing it nervously behind your ear.

"It seems that the children love that you read them stories…and I do too"

This last he said in a low voice, hesitating whether to confess it or not. You were getting redder, was he…flirting with you? It just can't be.

"I really don't think I have that good a storytelling voice.."-you whispered lowering your head

Adam stared at you stunned with a frown in confusion, did you really think that of yourself? The sovereign was about to reply "Oh if you could see yourself as I see you…" but he bit his tongue and didn't say it.

Since he didn't know what to say, you were about to leave when in an attempt to keep you longer he grabbed your wrist. your breathing quickened a bit

"Is it true that tomorrow you will read them a story again?" You nodded "Then I think I'll be there too, I want to hear you"

You smile perplexed, you were supposed to teach children to read, not adults, but you thought it was a tender gesture.

🍀💮🍀💮

As you promised, now you were heading back with another book in your hand, "The Little Prince". But this time you were a little nervous because you knew that among the children would be Adam, who was not a child. When you arrived at Knowhere Square there were at least 15 children waiting for you. You swallowed scared, you had never read for so many people. You thought that there would only be three or four children like the previous days but this time it was a whole contingent and not only that, now instead of reading in a small and private room or at a table outside the cafeteria you would have to do it in the middle of the square where people passed. Your palms sweated.

Nebula walked over to your side and looked at the children who were already sitting on the floor in a circle.

"I think you have a great audience today"

But you were pale and serious and you were squeezing the book as if it were going to fly away, Nebula noticed it and placed a hand on your shoulder rubbing it.

"Don't worry, I know you'll do well. I've seen how you read to them, you really do well and they love you. I'll be around if you need anything"

You nodded gratefully and when he left you sat on the floor next to them, you opened the book and were about to read but the words got stuck in your throat, unconsciously you searched for Adam with your eyes and there he was at the bottom of the room. He rounded sitting like a Buddha with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his chin, looking at you and encouraging you to continue. His presence gave you the courage you needed, you began the story with more relief and encouragement.

"isn't she fantastic?"-Adam whispered with a lovesick face to a boy who was sitting next to him.

- - - - - -

[the1975attheirverybest]

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 8- Sorry Bout The Bomb Thing….

A/N: okay so wax play will be in the next chapter cuz plot reasons. Two more chapters to go!

Warnings: kinky smut.

———

Matty’s ears rung with a persistent pressure and the faint echoes of last night’s live show. He could still hear the crowds cheering, calling out his name; remnants of Waugh’s saxophone honking, muffled, as though filled with water, played in the background of his mind. This was a soundscape that Matty had grown accustomed to– welcomed, even– but in the solitary confinement of his hotel bedroom, he found it unnerving. Trapped him in a liminal space between the stage and reality.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting down at the dining table to resume his idle scrolling.

Not Matty Healy trying to justify his white savior complex with a rant onstage…Lmao, homie didn’t even make sense half the time.

Matty Healy playing the victim talking about almost getting imprisoned in Malaysia. What else do you expect when you disrespect their culture? A colonizer thank you card?

MH just tryna cover up the fact that Malaysia was a temper tantrum over TS

Matty felt the bile in his stomach rise back up; his chest tightening; his vision blurring. He couldn’t bring himself to click on the ‘news’ articles that he was tagged in– their titles containing his name– and find out what industry professionals had to say about this whole thing, so he changed to his messages instead.

Matty:

hey

in town for msg soon

you around?

Lilly

Yeah! For a couple days anyway… wanna come over for a drink sometime?

Matty

Are you free right now?

****

Matty watched, proudly, as Lilly’s legs twitched around his arm. Judging by the fact that he’d rendered her breathless, he was pretty satisfied that he’d done his job right. He pulled his fingers out of her and brought them to his lips for a taste, sucking wetly. She reached out, lazily grabbing at his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

“Your turn now.” she whispered, before pulling him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

Though Matty had been receptive to her touch, responding to the kiss with eager lips, his mind raced with panic. He couldn’t feel anything. And not just below the belt, he just wasn’t excited at all. Why wasn’t he excited? Is there something wrong with his body? Is he physically ill? Is he gradually losing all of his drive?

Lily unbuttoned his jeans and Matty wondered how he’d found himself in this same situation with two different women. His body stiffened, he attempted to reach for her hands, but it was too late.

“Oh.” Lily looked down at his lap then back at him. “I- sorry. I didn’t realize that…you didn’t wanna- ummm. I’d just assumed you wanted to have sex. Cuz, you asked to come over and-“

“I did! I do! I want to….i just might- need a minute?” His eyes darted around the room as he spoke.

Lily smiled, “oh, alright. I can help you relax.”

Her hands roamed his body, running her fingers down his chest, sensually, before deciding to undress him. Matty closed his eyes, laying down and attempting to focus on the present moment. Despite his (and lily’s) best efforts, though, he couldn’t get out of his own head.

“Still nothing, huh?” Lily had asked when she’d finally kissed her way down his body. Something, she’d assumed, would’ve given him enough time to get into the right mood.

“I mean, hey, if you’re not in the mood, it’s no problem, really! We could just watch tv-“

“No! No, no. I am in the mood. Erm, but could I ask you to do something- I mean…can we try something different?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

Matty pointed to his discarded jeans. “Do you see my belt over there?”

***

“Are you sure it won’t be a problem? You’re already pretty bruised.”

Matty flipped over onto his back, briefly, to assure her one last time. “Those bruises are old now. They look more dramatic than they feel, I promise.”

She shrugged. “If you say so…alright. Ready?”

Matty closed his eyes, burying his face into the bedding as pain rained down on him. He tried to conjure up memories of the last time that someone had whipped him bloody, thinking back to Amelia. His hand reached between his body and the duvet, grabbing himself and trying not to call out another woman’s name in Lily’s presence.

***

Matty stared up at the ceiling fan as it rotated, on low mode, and tried to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Lily had approached him with a glass of water, but he hadn’t yet regain full control of his body again. He couldn’t will himself to move. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Happy to accommodate him, she sat on the bed next to him, arranging a wall of pillows to prop him on. “Can you sit up for me?”

The question, surprisingly, made him nervous. He snapped out of his ceiling-fan-induced hypnosis and quickly jolted, sitting up before she could lend him a hand.

“Yeah, yeah….thanks.” He accepted the glass of water, gulping it down. “Sorry.” He mumbled, leaning over her to set the now empty glass down onto the nightstand.

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Don’ know.”

“What’s going on with you?” Lily placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and it took everything in him not to brush it off.

“Nothin’s goin’ on. Just…tired. And- I— think I need a cig. And a glass of wine or something.”

She laughed, shaking her head and shuffling off the bed once more. “Coming right up. And then you’ll tell me what’s really going on cuz that wasn’t what I was asking about.”

***

“So…” Lily exhaled the smoke out of her lungs, putting the end of her cigarette out in the ashtray between them. “Let me get this straight…you’re in love with her, but she’s with someone else?”

Matty blushed, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

“She offered to break up with the guy. But you made friends with him. And now you like him too much. So you gave up your guitar — which was like the equivalent of half your soul— just so he can surprise her and take credit for the surprise?”

Matty took a large sip of his drink just to have something else to focus on.

“Oh, and also you guys are sleeping together because one time your dick didn’t work and you cried about it in front of her. Am I getting this right?”

Matty’s eyes evaded her, smiling in embarrassment, “that’s…the gist of it, yeah.”

“Okay, I’m glad I got it right cuz,” she picked up a pillow, throwing it at his face, narrowly missing her target, “what the fuck is wrong with you, dude?!!! Why are you even here? In my bed instead of hers??”

“Oh, so you want me to leave, then? Fine, I’ll leave.” Matty attempted to move but she instantly grabbed his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere….and what do your friends think about your genius behavior?”

“Who? the boys? Well…..they’ve all given different versions of, like, ‘you either tell her how you feel or you move on’ sort of.”

“And you’ve done neither.”

Matty nodded.

“Instead, you guys are sleeping together.”

Lily fell silent. She refilled her glass first, then she topped off Matty’s as well.

“I can see that you’re dying to say something.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Out with it!”

“You’re just so dumb.” Lily smiled. “Men are so dumb. Speaking of men…..have you seen a doctor about your….’bedroom issues’ ?”

“Mhm”

“And?”

“Well, I haven’t called about test results. So, I don’t know.”

“Matty-“

“I know, I know….”

Matty’s heart raced, his face felt warm; he blamed it on the wine. Spoke again before he could stop himself. “It’s just….i think I know what they’re gonna say.”

“The results?”

“It’s all in my head. It’s…it’s stress or psychological or whatever the fuck.” He sighed. “I mean, not to be that guy, but look at me. I’m the picture of health. I got that shit under control for tour and stuff-“

“I have noticed the, shall we say, ‘fitness level’ ?”

“Lily, are you flirting with m-“

“No. Don’t- change the subject!”

Matty chuckled. “Not changin’ anything. I’m just- I know that it’s my state of mind. I haven’t been….well- I haven’t been myself.”

Lily snatched the wine glass out of his hand, setting both of their drinks, and the bottle, aside to get his full attention. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I-“

“Besides ignoring it completely, I mean.”

Matty shrugged.

“Have you been to therapy? Have you….seen a psychiatrist?” She watched the look on his face. “Don’t! Don’t you roll your eyes at me. Don’t do that. That’s what guys do. It’s so childish!”

Matty had been determined to ignore her remarks until he heard the word ‘childish.’ Now, he was invested. “What the fuck do you mean ‘childish’? Just cuz I don’t need everything that’s ever made me an individual to be pathologized and medicated, doesn’t mean I’m being childish.”

Lily had had this conversation too many times before. She’d lost count of how many men get offended by their own flaws. She was over doing the gentle thing, holding their hand, and walking them through the thought process to help them come to the realization on their own. “Has it ever occurred to you that, oh- I don’t know- that maybe .your new show, your repressed love, all of the self punishment, and all that is just because you’d rather be dramatic and theatrical and do a huge arena tour than say how you feel?”

“You underestimate me, Lillian.”

“My name is Elizabeth.” She giggled.

“What?” Matty’s eyebrows shot up. “No fuckin way. ‘Lily’ is short for Elizabeth?”

“Yeah it’s mostly that I think ‘Elizabeth’makes me sound like a 76 year old widow.”

***

Amelia bit her lower lip smiling at Matty from across the room. He knew what that sly look meant.

“Come with me.” Giggling as she led them towards the storage room in the back of the venue.

Matty liked giving her complete control, doing as she says, being a mess at her feet. He relished in the opportunity.

“Whe-where would you like me this time?”

“Just stay standing.” Amelia surveyed the cramped room full of boxes for a moment, “you can lean against the wall if you need it this time.”

Reminding him of the last time that she’d sucked him off in the party bathroom, causing him to fall to his knees.

“Thank you.” He squeaked. He was already slipping into submission. Already pliant and malleable for her.

“Lose the clothes.” She demanded.

“A-all the way?”

“Yes. And hurry. Tobias will probably be looking for us soon.”

Matty stumbled as he kicked off his shoes, and rushed to peel his jeans off, aware of her eyes on him.

“Matty? Turn around for me, would you?”

His heart sank, dreading what was about to happen. Reluctantly, he did as she’d asked and turned all the way in a circle.

“These marks….they look fresh. What- when-“

“I- have to tell you something.” He pulled his pants back up, wincing as the fabric brushed his bum. “I- erm, I broke one of the rules.”

Amelia already knew where this was going. “Which one?”

“I- I had an orgasm- without your permission.” Matty looked down at the floor as he spoke. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his mouth felt dry.

Amelia’s face remained unreadable. “When?”

“La- last night.” He wished the earth under his feet could split and swallow him whole.

“Is that what those marks are from?”

He nodded slowly.

“They look pretty bad, have you looked after yourself? Disinfected the places with deeper cuts and-“

“No. I… I sort of, erm, stayed the night at her place and then came straight here. Haven’t had a chance to do anything.”

“She did this to you and then left you there? No aftercare?”

“No, no! Don’t say that! She’s not like that! She tried- but, erm, I wouldn’t let her.”

Amelia didn’t like the tightening in her chest that she felt as she listened to Matty defend another woman. She couldn’t quite figure out what she felt, but she had bigger, more important concerns at this moment.

“There’s a first aid kit in the tour bus bathroom, right?” Her face and tone unchanged, withholding.

Matty nodded.

“Let’s go then.”

***

Amelia gathered her supplies and set them on the bed in Matty’s tour bus bedroom. “Right then. Drop your pants and turn around.”

“I can do this myself, you know.”

“I didn’t ask. Turn around, Matty, c’mon.”

Not wanting to defy her any more than he already has, Matty complied. Amelia used her most delicate touch throughout. Slow and gentle, careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain, and pausing multiple times when she felt her hand falter. Matty pressed his lips together tightly, swallowing any and all whimpers or expressions of pain. He didn’t want her to feel bad. Not when she’s going out of her way to take care of him.

“Who is she?” Amelia heard herself ask.

“Just- ah! Shit…” he let out a groan as the antiseptic touched an open wound. “Just a friend I see whenever I’m in New York.”

“Do I know her?”

“N-no. She, erm….you two have never met.”

Amelia l withdrew for a moment as a sharp sting of jealousy washed over her. She didn’t know what she was most upset by, the fact that he slept with another woman, the fact that he’d let another woman hurt him — given her control

Over his body, trusting her to do what he needed— or the fact that she’d made him cum and got to see his beautiful, vulnerable body experiencing pleasure. Amelia was well aware that she had no right to be upset here. After all, she has a boyfriend. It wouldn’t be fair to expect Matty not to date or see anyone else while she carried on with her life. Still, she felt an unsettling ownership over him. And, she was now learning that she did not like to share.

She resumed her disinfecting, accidentally heavy-handedly, and saw Matty’s whole body flinch, a whimper of pain escaped him despite his best efforts to remain quiet.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled.

To his surprise, Amelia ran a gentle hand down his leg, attempting to comfort him.

“I know it hurts. It’s okay. Promise we’re almost done, alright?”

“Thank you.”

She smiled “let me know if you need me to stop, yeah? We can take a little break if you need it.”

Her words brought tears to his eyes.

“You’re mad at me.” Matty simply stated. “You’re mad at me. I broke the rules and you’re upset with me.”

He heard her unpack the bandages in silence.

“I’m gonna be punished for this, right?” He asked when she wouldn’t speak.

“I don’t know yet.” She pulled his clothes back on for him, delicately, making sure the waistband doesn’t come into contact with any of his sensitive injuries along the way.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what? Sleep with someone else? Why not? I do it!” She turned away from him, contemplating leaving the bus.

“Should’ve at least told you. Or asked you for permission. I- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t bring herself to walk out on him. She sighed, turning back around. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Let me decide on my own. Now, since you didn’t get any aftercare, are you feeling okay? Do you need anything? If you’re experiencing any sub-“

“I’m okay. I promise. I’m perfectly fine. And I’m so sorry.”

Amelia stood there, frustrated, her head spinning, not quite knowing how to feel, or how she should feel.

“Would it - be okay if I hugged you?” Matty asked, his eyes pleading with her.

He took the small smile on her face as a yes and rushed to cling to her.

“You’re just so…” she felt speechless, wrapping her arms around him.

“I know, I know. I’m the fuckin worst.”

***

Several days, and tour stops, went by without Matty and Amelia crossing paths. She still attended every show, watching him come to life onstage every night to perform for his audience. Often getting caught in a moment with someone in the crowd, crying or laughing with them. Always, without fail, having the boys behind him. Even on his worst days, Matty always gave his job everything that he could. That much was guaranteed. It was off-stage Matty that troubled her. And troubled him. So, while they both did their jobs, attended meetings, carried on with business as usual, she hadn’t found herself knocking at his door late at night in quite some time.

Matty laid in bed late at night, still waiting, hoping tonight would be the night that she’d come back to him. As more and more nights went by with his hopes still unfulfilled, he would fall asleep thinking about Lily’s suggestion —or accusation, really — that he wasn’t channeling or processing his feelings with work, but repressing them. He wondered if his night with Lily fell into the same category. He wondered why he’d even gone over there at all. He would give anything to undo it. To have Amelia back in his bed.

Struggling to fall asleep, he decided to go down to the hotel lobby, get a drink, and if his brain was still functioning, perhaps do some work. He grabbed his leather jacket out of the closet on his way out, patting his pockets to check that he had his room card and cigarettes before leaving. When Matty opened the door, he found Amelia, standing there, looking up at him.

“Amelia!” He could burst with joy. “You’re here!”

She looked behind her, to make sure nobody could see them, then rushed into his room.

“Amelia, I- I have wanted to apologize, but I just can’t find the words to-“

She placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I didn’t come here to talk, I came here so you’d get me off, so shut up and get on your knees.”

Matty wasn’t sure if that meant that she’d forgiven him or not, but he wasted no time in doing as he told. Eager to please her, and to show, if not tell, her how sorry he is.

***

A content Amelia reached between her thighs, grabbing Matty by the roots of his hair and pulling his head back, away from her cunt. She was still slightly out of breath from the orgasm that his mouth had given her and she enjoyed seeing his lips and chin glisten too.

“Look at me.” She commanded.

Matty’s eyes instantly met hers, his gaze unsure, humble.

“There’s my good whore.” She smiled, “it’s what you are, isn’t it? A whore? That’s what they call someone who’s happy to be spanked with his own built by just about anybody. Isn’t that right?”

Matty panicked, his thoughts racing. No! That’s not right! It’s much more complicated than that. Besides, it’s not like it was all the same to him. What he feels with her is different. Much more intimate. With Lilly, it was just sex. An attempt to prove to himself and his body that he could still feel it with other people. He learned the opposite of what he’d hoped to learn from sleeping with someone else. But he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to defend himself. Besides, she said she wasn’t interested in discussing this, and he didn’t want to risk her leaving again.

“Y-yeah. I am a whore.” It pained him to say. “Your whore.”

She let go of his hair, but he stayed in place.

“Oh don’t play that game with me, Matty.” She scuffed. “I bet you say that to all the women who force you to submit to them.”

Briefly, he considered prostrating himself on the floor and begging her to believe him. To accept his apology. But before he could throw himself on the floor, she’d reached into his underwear and pulled out his half-hardened cock.

He gasped, feeling her wrap her hand around his length, and squeeze, ever so slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw slack.

Amelia leaned forward and spat, using her own saliva as lube, she quickened her pace, pleased to see his arousal grow.

“Tell me something, Matty.” She spoke, still stroking him. “Did she jerk you off too? Hmm?”

“Wha-what?” His eyes shot open.

“The girl you slept with. You let her take control; what else did you give her? Did she suck you off? Did she fuck you? Did you fuck her?”

Matty struggled to remain focused, his self control was all dedicated to not cuming before she allowed him to. “What- no, no. I - promise- none of that….fuck, Amelia, you’re gonna make me— I didn’t— she didn’t. No fucking… nothing happened… ah, darling, please believe me- fuckkk I’m so close!”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“I- promise… Amelia. Please, Angel, may I come?”

“No.”

“I- promise. No matter what. No- ohhh shit- matter…who I’m with or not….you call and I’ll come runnin.’ You’ve got me. You- please!!!- can have me whenever you want.”

“You wanna cum?”

“So, so bad. Please darling may I?”

“Go for it.” Amelia instantly took her hand away, leaving him with a ruined orgasm.

She left him to writhe on the floor, listening to him cry out and beg, as she got dressed. “That’s for cumming without my permission.”

Barely coherent, Matty nodded. “Thank- you, for my punishment.” His legs still twitching.

“Oh, you think that was the end of your punishment? Sweet boy; I’ve barely started.”

As she made her way out of his room, Amelia wondered if what she’d done crossed a line. Was she hurting him with malice? Laying hands on him in anger? He always told her that was the basic rule of dominance and submission. You never do it out of aggression. She wasn’t entirely sure if what she’d put him through was for his sake or out of jealousy. Deep down, a piece of her was still upset with him for sleeping with someone else. She hated that.

***

Amelia pushed him into the supply closet, wasting no time in crashing her lips against his.

“You heard back from the doctors yet?”

He shook his head.

“Cuz you’re already hard for me. You’re an anomaly.”

Matty chuckled. “fuckin tell me about it.”

His eyes shot wide open, his lips stifling a gasp as he felt her hand wrap around the base of his cock. “Remind me again what we’re doing?”

“Puh- pun- punishment. For me.” He managed between pants.

“And why is that?” She changed up the rhythm, grinning when the surprise made him jolt.

“Cuz- I- didn’t- i broke the rules. Let myself have an orgasm without your permission.”

Matty felt his knees begin to buckle. He pushed his head back, leaning against the wall for support. Amelia thought the look of his throat slightly bobbing as he swallowed harshly was the most mesmerizing thing she’d ever seen.

“That’s right.” She snapped out of her hypnotic state “you get edged. Everyday. And you have no idea when I’m going to let you cum. All you can do is beg. While you take it.”

“Please, darling, I- may I cum?” His droopy eyes struggled to remain fixed on her, but he tried his best, he wanted her to see the need in his eyes and to know that he was being genuine when he said that he really, really needed it.

Amelia’s free hand tugged on his balls, slightly, the sudden sensation making him moan and lurch forward. “Fuuuckk!!”

Matty’s knees buckled, he crumbled to the floor, but, rather than give him a break, Amelia simply crouched down in front of him, continuing to edge him. She circled his pre-cum covered tip, admiring the way that his hips bucked desperately.

“Please- please, please, my love. I- need it, Amelia- I’m so, so close…”

She smiled to herself. She knew he was desperate, but enough to pull out ‘my love?’ He was so adorable when he relinquished control.

“You better hold it. You understand?” She changed up her rhythm.

“Ahhh! Fuck!” He cried out. “I- I will, I’m trying.”

“Hush! You’re being too loud. We’re gonna get caught.” She wrapped her hand around his neck, tightening her grip in an attempt to silence him, it was the last push that Matty needed to get him over the edge.

He panicked, trying desperately to warn her, but his voice only a mere squeal as she choked him, he thrashed helplessly, using every ounce of self restraint left in his exhausted and overstimulated body to keep from cumming. Luckily, Amelia had learned his body’s cues well enough by now. She knew he’d reached his peak and she let go before he could lose control loosening her hold on his throat as well.

His rock- hard cock twitched against his stomach, the blood rushing through his veins, his entire body felt sensitive, from head to toe, the pain of a ruined orgasm almost unbearable. He mewled softly, his naked thighs trembling, tears welling his eyes.

“Awww, Matty.” Amelia couldn’t fight the urge to comfort him, feeling a bit too guilty for denying him yet another release. Her hand cupped his face. She was a bit worried when he flinched.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Matty nodded. Unable to speak. Still fighting for breath.

She settled next to him on the floor. Pulling him into her side, her arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You good?” She asked once his breathing had finally evened out.

“Yeah.” He smiled, tiredly.

“Was that….too much?”

Matty shook his head.

“I didn’t wanna go too hard on you. Cuz we’ve got to get back to work soon. We can’t have you being a mess right now…but, your eyes- you look a bit gone.”

Matty’s body shook against hers as he laughed silently. “It’s just what human eyes look like at arousal. I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you dressed.” She mumbled, reaching for his clothes and helping to button up his shirt over his chest.

Matty’s clammy hands struggled with the waistband of his briefs.

“I’ve got it, it’s okay. I’ll hold it for you.” She lent him a hand. “Got your shoes? Good. Let’s go.”

“Think I just need a minute. You go. I’ll be right behind you in a bit.” He smiled up at her hugging his knees.

“What? No. I’ll wait with you.”

“I’m okay, Amelia. I promise. I just need a minute to come down and collect myself.”

“Well.” She sat back down by his side. “Take your time. I’ll just keep you company.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it and laying it in her lap.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He kissed her cheek.

They sat in silence for a moment. Matty soon felt impatient and pulled out his phone.

“Memes already?” Amelia shook her head, “you’re the most unserious man I’ve ever met.”

“I- just- need something to distract me while I come down from all of this” he gestured, loosely, towards the marks she’d left all over his body. “You know I can’t sit still.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. His skin was hot, red, and he was still shaky.

“Wanna see some funny stuff?” He moved the screen to be in between them.

“Okay, but no minions. Only YOU find those funny.”

As they scrolled through, alternating between Twitter and Instagram, and giggling, they slowly found themselves stumbling over the wrong side of the internet. First, it was,

Matty Healy is ugly, racist, sexist, oh and did I mention ugly?

Then,

Matty Healy needs to stop speaking over marginalized people with his white guy “trying to help” energy. It’s giving colonialism.

Amelia rolled her eyes, interfering to scroll past, when Matty had paused to check the reply thread. But, soon enough, they stumbled upon,

The drugs that mh used to be on must have melted his brain cuz wtf is this?

“I suppose that’s enough screen time.” Matty chuckled, setting the phone down in his lap.

“Matty…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And that’s okay-“

“I don’t care. Whatever.”

Amelia looked down at his lap, the phone screen getting progressively dimmer. She grinned when a thought crossed her mind and picked up his phone.

“Amelia?”

Matty watched her thumbs move as she tapped the keyboard, seemingly typing something.

Matty Healy is ugly, racist, sexist, oh and did I mention ugly?

I’d make like your receding hairline and back away if I were you. You’re in no position to speak.

She smiled, satisfied, and scrolled on.

Matty Healy needs to stop speaking over marginalized people with his white you trying to help energy. It’s giving colonialism.

At least he’s helping. What’re YOU doing? Besides being an idiot on the internet, I mean.

“Jesus Christ, Amelia!” Matty attempted to claw the phone out of her grip, but she simply scooted away. “Amelia; stop!”

“What? This is a burner account right?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point!”

She wasn’t paying attention long enough for him to make his point, she’d gone back to typing.

Here, I’ve linked the definition of colonialism for you. Maybe your Twitter brain rot will actually teach you a new word today!

The drugs that mh used to be on must have melted his brain cuz wtf is this?

Using someone’s addiction against them? Not very woke activist progressive brave of you, is it? He could outsmart you in his sleep, btw. Don’t worry about his brain. Worry about yours.

“Alright that’s enough clapping back for you, give me that phone.”

“But I’m having fun!”

It occurred to Matty that he’s much stronger, and larger, than she is. So he hovered over her, doing his best to appear intimidating. But looking into her eyes always made him weak.

“Give me that phone, Amelia.”

“Make me.”

“Alright, but you’re gonna be sorry you asked for it.”

***

Their rendezvous continued for a few more weeks. They found themselves fallen into a routine. One suggestive look, or nod, was enough to signal that it’s time to surreptitiously leave, and meet someplace private. There wasn’t a position of surface that Amelia hadn’t tried to bend Matty over, or prop him on. He was never allowed to touch. Neither himself nor her as she worked him up, bringing him to the brink of an orgasm, only to pull away when he most needed her. She’d sucked him off on her knees, taken to riding him to get herself off, and on one occasion, even tried a vibrator on the tip of his cock to keep him stimulated while tied up.

It seemed to work. At least as long as she watched him cry and beg for her, she felt certain that she had a hold on him. That she could prove it to herself. Not only that, but Matty was making progress on most days. He still had his setbacks and moments of frustration. And he would get punished for those, firmly. But he did his best to remain on track. Getting back to his routines and even attempting to eat properly. So, for all intents and purposes, this system of theirs, seemed to serve its purpose. That is, until, backstage in his dressing room, Amelia had accidentally pushed him too far.

Matty looked down at his own lap, pent up frustration bubbling within his chest. He felt his eyes sting with tears, his hazy brain, already struggling to find its bearings, began to spin. He sat back down on the couch that he and Amelia had just been lying on, his warm, naked body sticking to the leather.

“I- made a mess.” He announced, his voice filled with emotion. “I- swear I didn’t feel good. Really! But I- I couldn’t stop fast enough” He felt ridiculous for tearing up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Amelia turned around, concerned, not so much by what he said, but by how he’d sounded when he said it.

“Oh.” Amelia smiled, at the sight of cum dripping down his stiff dick. “Did you spill over a little bit.” She giggled.

Matty nodded, frowning.

“It’s alright. We’ll get you cleaned up. There’s a shower at the end of the hall, yeah?”

Matty didn’t seem to be listening. “I- promise I felt nothing. It didn’t feel good or anything- I still hurt. I promise. Really. Honest!”

To demonstrate how obvious it was, Amelia swiped her finger over his tip, watching him wince and shudder . “Yeah, I see that.”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Matty. It was an accident. And it doesn’t count as a real orgasm, you didn’t get any pleasure or release out of it, so.”

When she glanced at him and saw his face, her attitude changed. “Oh, babe. You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. It’s really dumb. I just- I wanna be good. I wanna do as you tell me to.”

“You are, Matty! You’re so good. You take your punishment really well. It’s been - well, weeks. I mean, when’s the last time that you were edged like that without an orgasm at all?”

“N-never.”

“Exactly. Frankly, I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long. I haven’t exactly made it easy on you. You get what I’m saying?” She smiled at him but she could tell that he wasn’t persuaded. “Okay, why dont we wait a bit. You’ll take some deep breaths. calm down. Then we’ll go take a shower, yeah?”

Though Amelia had done and said everything to comfort him, Matty still had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’d fucked up. He’d nearly lost control, a difference of seconds could’ve made him a failure. His entire body felt out of control. He couldn’t get a grip all day. And it was obvious. To Amelia, at least. He wasn’t his usual, adrenalin-fueled ball of energy when working, he wasn’t making as many jokes or engaged in conversation. He moved slower, stumbled over his words more, and seemed anxious and afraid of everything.

Doing her best not to draw any attention to this change in his demeanor, Amelia tried all the subtle ways that she could think of comforting him. She remained close by, throughout the day, sitting next to him whenever possible, resting a hand on his back, bringing him food and water to make sure he wasn’t skipping any meals. She wasn’t sure if Matty had registered her attempts or understood that they were meant to reassure him, but she did it as much for her own peace of mind as for his. She hated knowing that he was disoriented and struggling. She hated knowing that it was because of something she had done to him. She couldn’t stand the fact that she’s unable to give him a hug or hold his hand right then and there without it being a major concern to everyone in the room.

So, if she couldn’t wrap her arms around him protectively and kiss all over his face, whisper reassurances into his ear, and let him know that he’s alright, she was going to settle for checking in with him throughout the day, bringing him food, refilling his water, placing a gentle hand over his arm whenever she noticed him retreating into his own head. Nobody seemed to notice the shift in her behavior, or if they did, nobody made it known. Except for Joshua.

“Is Matty okay?” He’d asked as soon as they were alone.

“What? Yeah…he’s- he’s fine. Just going through some stuff.”

Joshua made a vague humming sound that acknowledged her response as his eyebrows crossed. “He’s a good guy. Hope he feels better soon.” He held the door open for Amelia to walk through.

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, there’s a restaurant that Jamie told me about. Think we should try it while we’re in town. Wanna go out for dinner tonight?”

Amelia hated herself for what she was about to say. She hated doing this. But how could she not? “I- uhhh…can’t tonight. I think I’m gonna spend the night across the hall at Matty’s-“

“Again?!”

“I’m sorry! I know. We’ve hardly had alone time this week. But…I’m worried about him. I don’t think he should be alone right now.”

Joshua’s face dropped. “Can’t one of the boys hang out with him for a few hours?”

“I promised him that I would.” She lied.

“Right….” Joshua nodded. He took a long moment to accept his fate. “Alright then. Some other time maybe.”

Amelia felt awful letting him down. But she’d found herself in a position where she would inevitably let someone down, no matter who she chose. She reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Joshua. Maybe you could still go? Like with someone else?”

Joshua thought about it for a moment. “George mentioned being interested.”

“Great! I’m sure he’d love to go with you!”

He forced himself to soften and put on a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah George is a cool dude. It’d be a good time.”

“Great, so, you’ll go?”

“I’ll go. With George.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Watching him walk away, Amelia felt a knot in her stomach. What had she done?

***

“Are you going to punish me?” Matty asked, as soon as they sat on the bed.

“Punish you ? What for?”

He shifted in his place. “Well- earlier- I…”

“You didn’t break any rules, Matty. It was an accident. You get that, right?”

He nodded but rather than looking relieved, he seemed disappointed.

“Matty, look at me. What is it? What’re you thinking right now?”

“It’s just- I know it was an accident. But…it wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect. And….this whole thing is supposed to be punishment for- when I fucked up and slept with someone else.”

Amelia reached an arm out, “come here for a second. Listen, remember what we said about rewards and punishments? How they’re meant to motivate you to steer away from certain things and towards others?”

He nodded

“Well, in addition to just being fun.” She winked, jokingly. “That’s why these rules only apply to things and behaviors that you can control. An accident is unintentional. You didn’t mean to. And you couldn’t have stopped it. Your body reacted reflexively. What would be the point of punishing you for that?”

Matty smiled, as a few stray tears rolled down his eyes. “Fuck. This is so silly. Why am I crying?” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It’s not silly. It’s okay.” Amelia held his face in her hand, pulling him to her chest. “Matty, I think…I mean, I have to ask if these aren’t subdrop symptoms? You’ve been a bit off all day.”

Matty shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. Could be.”

She kissed his head, slowly separating between their bodies so she could get off the bed. “Well, then, you stay there and relax. Let me take care of you.”

“You’ve been taking care of me all day-“

“So? I’ll do it all night, too.”

Her smile melted his heart. If he was being real, in one form or another, Amelia has been taking care of him for weeks. And the effort wasn’t lost on him. His gratitude was impossible to put into words. He really wanted to get better. If not for himself, then for her. So she didn’t have to feel like her support was in vain.

When Amelia jumped back on the bed, she’d brought her box of recently purchased sex toys with her, and matty felt a shiver run down his spine at the realization. What on earth was she planning to do to him tonight? The look in his eyes made her giggle. They both knew they were in for a ride.

“Gonna undress you now, okay?”

“More than okay.” He grinned.

***

“Matty?” Amelia called out his name when she felt that he was zoning out. “Have you had enough? It’s been a while. We can stop if you’re done.”

Matty shook his head. “No, no. I’m okay. Sorry I’ve gone quiet. I’m alright, though.”

She looked down at the hickeys and love bites that she’d left all over him, surveying her handiwork.

“For this next bit, you won’t be quiet, I promise you.” Her smile was almost menacing. “But first, open your mouth for me.”

Matty obeyed instantly.

“You know what to do,” she stuck her fingers into his open mouth. “Suck. Like your life depends on it. Cuz that’s the only lube you’ll be getting.”

Matty’s eyes widened as he fervently sucked on her fingers, hollowing his cheeks, gagging, tears running down his throat, and drool down his chin.

“Alright that’s it. Good enough.”

Amelia paused, admiring how beautiful he looked with his face flushed, his lips wet and pink, panting for breath.

“You did good, Matty.” She said.

Matty smiled, shyly looking away. But she could tell that he reveled in her compliment. It was kind of odd but extremely endearing to her that she could say the filthiest things to him and he wouldn’t bat an eye, but a simple word of praise flustered him endlessly. He always seemed surprised to find out that she was happy with him. It almost broke her heart.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

“You can tap out at any time, you know that, right?”

“Mhm. I- I do. Can you…erm, hold my hand? Please?”

she never knew why that was so important to him, something he asks for frequently, and often did with her even when he was the one in control. But she never questioned it. “Yeah, sure.”

She used her wet fingers to tease his hole, listening to him gasp and moan as he made a deliberate effort to stay relaxed. His hand squeezed hers when he felt her first finger slowly push its tip into him.

“Ohh fuck!” He cried out. His eyes falling shut.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Just…tight. It’s been a minute.” Blushing at his own words.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Matty seemed to grow more comfortable as she went on, slowly and cautiously pushing deeper into it him.

“Never done this on my- ohh Christ!- on my back. Before- fuckin hellll.” He whined. “F- feels- uhh…intense.”

“You wanna change positions?”

He was tempted to say yes, eager to hide his face away or get on all fours. But feeling vulnerable and exposed like this was new. He wanted to challenge himself. To take this step with her. “No, I- think I’m okay.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for a second finger.”

Matty whimpered, feeling his stiff cock twitch, his words getting caught in his throat, chest growing tight. “Oh, A- Amelia…that-“

“I love when you say my name like that.”

“I love- you- r name.”

She giggled. “Matty, honey, I don’t think you know what you’re saying at this point.”

Once satisfied that his body had adjusted,she abruptly pulled her fingers out of his asshole.

“N-no! That’s - I- why?” He complained.

“You’re so greedy, gosh.” She swatted at his chest lightly. “Because I’ve got this,” reaching over into the box and pulling out. Strap-on.

“Oh fuck.” Matty simply let out.

“As much as I would relish seeing you suck dick, I’m kind of excited to rail you until you break. So, maybe next time.” She squirted a generous glop of lube onto the toy, coating it evenly.

Matty was quickly rendered a crying, moaning, mess. Not that Amelia was bothered by it. She’d momentarily lost herself, admiring the way that he clenched around the artificial cock, the way that the you stretched him out, the way that his entire body responded to that pressure, his legs shaking, his cock bubbling with pre-cum. She slid in and out of him, listening for the beautiful sounds that came from his lips every time.

She knelt down, placing a soft kiss to his hip tattoo before holding on to both of his hips for more control and speeding up her pace.

Matty cried louder, his moans, and attempted thanks punctuated by her thrusts.

“Look at me, baby.” Amelia chuckled. He couldn’t hear her over his own voice. “Eyes on me, sweet boy.” Despite her attempts, matty seemed completely unaware of her commands. She just wanted to make sure he wasn’t too overwhelmed but she let him be.

She began to thrust harder, watching as a fresh wave of tears ran down his face. She had no idea that side of her existed, but now that it was out there, she was having a lot of fun. “Go ahead and touch yourself, Matty.” She said once his voice had disappeared from screaming.

“Really?” He attempted to speak, his throat hoarse.

“Yeah. No waiting; no pain tonight. Just pleasure.”

“You really mean that?”

She laughed. “You deserve to feel good, Matty. Go on, darling.”

Amelia watched his hand shake and slip a few times as she pushed into him forcefully. “You want me to get you off?” She offered.

“Y- yes please? Your hand feels better.”

“Flatterer.”

It didn’t take much to get him over the edge. After all, he’d been there all week.

“I can cum? Right now?”

“Cum for me.”

She watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, his entire body trembling harshly as he let go, his release strong and all-consuming. He’d attempted to thank her, but his words soon slurred, and all she heard, was a long, guttural moan.

She slowly pulled out of him, his still-quivering body ached. She heard him wince.

“Matty, love, could you turn on your side for me?”

She helped him lay on his right side before surprising him by thrusting back in. He hadn’t yet recovered from his orgasm, but he held his breath as she slid in.

“M-more?”

“Yeah. Think I’ll keep going. If you can take more.”

“I- I’ll - take whatever you want to do to me.”

“That’s sweet, baby. You’re being so good. But I’m trying to ask if you wanna stop.”

“Want whatever you want.”

She took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re so beautiful.” She smiled gently. “anyway, the reason that I had you flip on your side is because I wanted to see if I could get this angle right. Let me try something.” She adjusted her hips, thrusting hard. A primal scream echoed from him. She’d found the right spot.

“Oh my godddd. Please don’t stop. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Please, please, please…”

“What’re you begging for, baby?”

“Ohhh….i- I don’t knowww….”

She pushed the phallic toy all the way into his hole, and watched his body spasm around it.

“Sooo. Fuckin. Deep. Ohhhh. Fuckkkk.”

Matty’s toes curled.

“Wanna cum again?”

“Yeah. Yeah please can I?”

“Yeah, let go. Do it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu.”

Matty writhed against the bed once more, his neck straining as his back arched off the mattress. He panted and strangled his own screams, but Amelia pounded harder into him, not letting up.

“Gonna go for a third.” She simply stated.

No longer able to speak, let alone protest, Matty simply nodded, before closing his eyes.

“Stay with me, Matty. You’re slipping.”

When he didn’t respond, she slapped his face lightly. “Matty, c’mon. Open those beautiful eyes, let me see you.”

He blinked up at her, slowly, and she knew he was barely present. His head too full of pleasure to process anything.

“Ride me. Go ahead and move your body. Cmon.”

after a longer response time than usual, matty mumbled “can’t. Too tired.”

“Do it, Matty. Cmon.”unwilling to deny her anything, he moved his hips slowly, with considerable difficulty. “Can’t. Too sore.”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” Was the last thing he heard her say before he blacked out. He felt her push his knees into his chest, allowing her to thrust deeper, his entire body shook as she hit him exactly where he needed most. He attempted a half-hearted beg, but she understood anyway, and gave him permission to cum. The pleasure so good, so strong, that his mind went blank, his body acting on pure instinct. Not a thought in his mind, not a word on his lips, he laid there, shaking, heavy limbed, tears down his cheeks.

Amelia spoke softly, despite the fact that she was certain he wasn’t listening. She talked him through her movements like he so often did with her. “Gonna pull out now.” And when he whimpered in discomfort, she rubbed his legs. “I know, sorry, my love.”

Moments later, she sat next to him. “Gonna just…wipe you clean, okay? Just for now. We’ll get you in the shower soon, yeah?” She moved his body around in various ways to clean him up, and he made no effort to intervene or stop her. It was eerie, a bit concerning, and she would’ve assumed that he was unconscious, if it weren’t for the way that his weak hands attempted to hold hers when she brought a blanket over to cover him with. He was wordlessly asking for a cuddle. And who is she to deny him?

Amelia laid down behind Matty, wrapping her arms around him and pushing their bodies together so his back was right against her chest. Her hands resting on his bare stomach, she would occasionally stroke that skin, or gently scratch it, trying to make sure he feels something physical to ground him.

“Matty, are you with me?”

She felt his hand squeeze hers.

“Good. You’re good, baby. Did so well. I’m glad we did this.” After a moments pause, she spoke again. “Did you feel good?”

He squeezed her hand again.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. My love, I know that you must be so out of it right now, but I need you to rally, okay? We gotta feed you and maybe take a shower.”

Despite her preemptive words, they remained in bed for a long time. Matty’s tears kept pouring out of him, Amelia held him tighter. He didn’t seem to be able to speak, or perhaps he had nothing to say, so she tried to do the talking for him. Out of helplessness, not knowing how best to comfort him, and out of worry, that she might have hurt him in some way.

“Tonight was a lot, yeah? Three orgasms after being pent up for so long? That had to have been overwhelming.” She whispered. “But you took it so well. Know it must have been difficult. Thank you for putting yourself through that. For me. You were so good. ” She paused, her hand moved to stroke the length of his arm. “You like giving up control, don’t you? But you struggle to do it. It’s cuz you’re in your head all the time.” She kissed his shoulder. “I get it. It’s what makes you so special. But it must be exhausting. You gotta give yourself a break sometimes. And I appreciate that you do that with me. Really. I do. Don’t think that I take this lightly. I don’t. Means a lot to me.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Just hate that this is the only way you allow yourself some release. I wish you’d be nicer to yourself.”

She felt him wriggle in her arms, slowly, and clumsily, he turned around to face her, resting his head on her chest. He mumbled a broken, hardly audible, “thank you.” With a strained voice.

“Gosh you’re making it so difficult to get up. We can’t fall asleep…”

Matty did, of course, fall asleep. He couldn’t help it. His body was drained, all out of energy, his mind had slowed to a complete halt for the first time since tour had started, he couldn’t feel his legs and he had no voice to speak. Amelia held on to him for a while, still playing with his hair, watching him sleep soundly, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed. It was the most peaceful he’d looked in a long time. But she had to get them both up eventually.

She peeled herself away from him, rummaging through the suite to sort all the necessities. Once she was satisfied that everything was prepared for them, she crawled back into bed next to him, kissing him awake.

“Matty, darling, wake up.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby, I know this is not what you want right now, but you’re gonna have a really hard time tomorrow if we don’t do this now. Don’t want you to drop and struggle all day, yeah?”

Matty’s eyes fluttered slowly, opening slightly. “Yeah.” He smiled.

She helped him sit up then handed him a glass of water and a bottle of his protein shakes that he always had on hand. “Need you to work on those okay?”

“What about you, Amelia?”

The fact that he was asking about her meant that he was slowly coming back into himself.

“I- I’m…I’ll eat later. Don’t worry about me right now.”

“We’ll share?” He offered. The gesture made her feel warm and fuzzy.

***

Steaming hot water ran down his back like a waterfall. Amelia had decided that he was too out of it to wash his own hair, so she’d hopped in the shower with him, running her fingers through his hair and lathering it with shampoo. Matty could hardly stop giggling and smiling the whole time. Especially whenever she took small breaks from washing him to leave small kisses all over his head and body.

Matty turned around, kissing her lips as steam filled their lungs and fogged up the bathroom around them.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her mouth any time that they broke, briefly, for some air.

“What do you keep thanking me for?” She laughed.

“For….just being you.”

***

Amelia placed a gentle kiss to his forehead as he slept, before tiptoeing out of the room the next morning. Even as she made her way back to her own room, she was already daydreaming about what they would do tonight, once she could come by his room again, after their long day of work.

At the other end of the hall, her boyfriend awaited. “Hi Joshua-“

“When were you going to tell me that you and Matty have slept together?” He asked, sprinting to his feet as soon as she walked in.

Amelia felt the blood run cold in her face. How did he find out? Had he seen them together somehow? They’ve been very careful. Made sure he was nowhere near them whenever they would sneak off. Perhaps not as careful as she’d thought.

“W- wha-what?” She babbled.

“I mean, I know it was before we met but I befriended the guy! Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

Amelia snapped out of her terrified daze. He doesn’t know. They have been careful. Everything’s fine. “Who told you?”

“George did. At dinner.”

“Damn you George Daniel!”

“No, no. Don’t be mad at him. He thought I already knew. He wasn’t telling on you.”

Amelia smiled, nervously, looking into his kind eyes. “Well, I- I’m sorry, Joshua. I didn’t know how to bring it up, and….you seemed to like Matty and I didn’t want to ruin that- didn’t want you to think about me and him….any time that you spoke to him.” She sighed, realizing that she’d run out of breath.

Joshua said nothing. He looked down at his girlfriend, who’d walked to sit on the end of the bed, her head held down in shame.

“Are you mad?” She asked when he wouldn’t speak.

“I- don’t know- I mean, you lied to me, Amelia. I asked you if you guys ever dated….you said almost.”

“No! No, I didn’t lie! We’ve never dated, I promise. It was just sex…I know that sounds a bit weird, but we have never been like ‘in a relationship.’”

Joshua hummed, taking in her words, studying her face. She looked genuine, she looked sorry. Like she was telling the truth.

“I guess…in a way….maybe I’m glad I just found out. Cuz, you’re right. I like Matty and…I probably wouldn’t have if you’d let me know from the start.” He forced a deliberate smile, attempting to dissolve the tension.

“So- you’re…not upset?”

“I mean…a bit disappointed but-“

“I’m so sorry!!”

“But not upset, no.”

“Do you…like…do you wanna know anything? I mean, there’s not much to know. Like I said…we weren’t dating or anything….mostly fucking.”

“ I think the less I know about that the better. For all involved.”

“So- we’re done talking about this?”

“Mhm. Unless you wanna say something?”

****

Amelia pushed the breakfast around her plate as her thoughts spun and weaved. Why did she feel a strange sense of freedom, for a small moment, when she thought Joshua had found out about her and Matty, when she pictured breaking up with him, she felt relieved. Was she a terrible person for feeling that way? Should she lean into it? Surely Joshua deserves to be with someone who doesn’t feel freed by the potential of losing him?

With considerable effort, she lifted her gaze up towards Joshua, looking him in the eyes. “Umm…Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something. There’s- we need to talk….”

He sighed, loudly, setting down his fork. “We’re breaking up aren’t we?”

***

Matty looked through the peephole to see Amelia waiting to be let in. He unlocked the door quickly, delighted by her early visit. Amelia, on the other hand, was too angry for pleasantries.

“Can I ask you something?” She tapped her foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

“‘Course.” Matty frowned, unsure of what he was about to face.

“What happened to your Fender Mustang?”

[putellas14]

It Didn't Have to Be Like This (Jenni Hermoso ficlet)

Jenni zipped her last bag and smiled to herself. She was going to the World Cup. The plane was leaving in a few hours and she was feeling confident.

"You got everything?" Luisa asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yup." Jenni smiled down at her. "I love you. We'll facetime. I won't miss a bedtime, I promise." She looked across the hall into the nursery.

"I know you won't, baby. Why don't I give you a few minutes to say bye to her and I'll take your bags downstairs for you?"

 "You don't have to do that. They're heavy. But I will say bye to this little monster. I'm going to miss her so much."

"I know." Luisa rubbed a hand over Jenni's shoulder. "She'll miss you, too."

Jenni leaned over and took the baby from Luisa's arms. "There's my pretty girl," Jenni whispered, touching her nose to Valentina's. The baby giggled and grabbed her mom's cheeks. Jenni hugged her close, whispering to her that she would miss her so much and she couldn't wait to come home and see her again. "I love you sooooo much," she said, kissing the baby's cheeks.

Waving to them from the taxi, Jenni was filled with sadness. Yes, she was happy to be playing in the World Cup. But she wished they could come with her and share in the excitement.

Jenni was true to her word. She never missed a bedtime. And she made sure to facetime twice a day. Even when they would win a match and advance, the highlight of her day was talking to Valentina. Spain made it to the final and Luisa sent her a photo of the two of them wearing matching Hermoso jerseys. Jenni tried to hide her tears but her teammates saw it and made fun of her.

She facetimed them from the field when Spain won. She needed to share this moment with them.

Because of all that, when she walked in the front door of their home three days later, she wasn't expecting to find it empty. The living room furniture was gone. The dining table was gone. She dropped her bags and rushed up the stairs, take them three at a time. Her heart pounding in her ears, she opened the nursey door. And collapsed.

It was empty. No crib. No books. No clothes. The changing table was gone. The photos from the walls were gone. There was a single envelope in the middle of the floor.

Pushing herself towards it, she saw her name on it. She tore it open and barely registered the lawyer's name at the top of the letter. She did register "don't contact" and "all communication through me" and "further legal action."

She curled up in the middle of the nursey and cried. For hours. Until she was too weak to do anything else.

Sometime after it got dark out, her phone rang. It was Alexia. She answered but didn't say anything.

"I just got the weirdest call from your brother," Alexia said. "Is everything okay?"

"She took Valentina," Jenni whispered. "Luisa. They're gone." And then she was crying again. Because she couldn't believe Luisa would take her child from her.

"We're coming. We'll be there in 10 minutes."

Ana and Alexia were there in eight. Jenni was still curled on the floor. Together, they helped her stand up and she collapsed into Ana's arms. Ana looked at Alexia over the top of Jenni's head, holding her friend close. Alexia was looking around the room in shock, her eyes glassy from the realization this was really happening. She took the letter from Jenni's hand and read it.

"I can't stay here," Jenni whispered.

"You'll come to my house," Alexia said. "You can stay as long as you want." She stroked a hand through Jenni's hair. "It's going to be okay," she reassured, despite knowing it wasn't going to be okay. "I'll go pack you some clothes. Why don't you go down with Ana and have some water?"

Jenni nodded, completely broken and clung to Ana's support as they went back down. The kitchen brought on new tears as Jenni found that all of Valentina's dishes were gone. All the baby bottles. And plastic plates. And bibs. And her high chair. She felt like she was being punched in the gut over and over again.

"I just want Valentina back. Why did she take my baby from me?"

"We're going to find her, I promise. Let's go to Alexia's and we can sit down and figure this out, okay?" Ana tried to keep her voice as calm as she could. All she wanted to do was kill Luisa. If Luisa was unhappy and wanted to leave, she could do that. But taking Valentina and hiding her was too far. 

Alexia took the bag out to her car and came back in for them. Seeing Jenni looking destroyed in her empty kitchen was heartbreaking. There was nothing she could do to fix this but at least she could get Jenni out of here so she didn't have to stay in this empty house alone. Alexia didn't think Jenni had gone into her own bedroom yet but it was just as empty as the rest of the house.

"Come on, sweetie." She put an arm around Jenni's waist. "Let's go." For tonight, she needed to give her friend a warm safe place to stay. A place with love and comfort and support.

She let Jenni cry on her shoulder through the rest of the night, offering whatever comfort she could. Ana refused to leave her side.

The next day they game planned. And Jenni called her family and learned that Luisa called them the previous day to say terrible things. And they all cried together. And Jenni told a few other friends. And they all felt the World Cup victory pride fade into the background. They prepared themselves for what was to come. These next days and weeks and months were going to be challenging. But they were all ready to fight to find Valentina and bring her home.