#and yet she just gets to walk away like it was nothing? live her life like it was nothing?

[muffinsin]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 3: Unravel Me

[TWs for this chapter: Kidnapping, light drugging]

Masterlists Smoke and Mirrors

Overview Smoke and Mirrors

Blog Masterlists

40 likes for the next chapter again

Daniela walks slowly, her legs carrying her forth towards the front of the strange manor. The sound of the wind passing through little creeks in the stony mountains near have her flinch, the sound of the waterfall nearby so loud she barely hears anything else. She steps towards the door, then, when her hand pushes flatly against it, the wooden thing opens easily. Unlocked.

Cautiously, she looks inside. She can’t help her curiosity, though. All her life, living only at the castle, having only been in the village a few times to taunt some of the villagers here and there or to collect a maid. This is new. Mother wouldn’t approve, she knows. Cassandra would drag her back, she knows. Bela would make her return, she knows. She’s no fool, after all. But, this is so curious, so tempting.

She sees the inside, the dark wooden floors, the rocking chair and table, on top a bowl with wool, the thread leading deeper into the house. Daniela eyes it curiously, tracking it so far as she can before it leads past a corner she cannot see. She squirms a little. The manor is so invitingly warm, seems so familiar. So right, even.

It’s long since she’s heard the worried cries of her sister pleading with her to show herself. She feels lost, yet has never felt this welcome.

Some force pushes her into the warm house, and suddenly the sounds from the outside are completely sealed away as the door shuts behind her. Suddenly, her back burns, and Daniela doubles over at the pain. She cries out, whimpering into the nothingness when she feels the faint touches again, cupping her wet cheeks this time. But she sees no one, nothing- nothing but dolls and furniture and decorative plates on the walls. All is so different from how it looks at the castle.

Beneath her dress, the branding symbol of the Beneviento house sears as it comes back to surface. At least, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the first time, she feels, yet the sensation is enough for thick tears to roll down her cheeks and for her lips to dry, parted as she screams.

Then, just when she thinks it won’t stop anymore, the pain comes to an abrupt halt.

She straightens again, getting back to her feet. The manor looks abandoned, but something feels off. The lure is still there, the urge to follow it even more so. The Dimitrescu doesn’t yet know she is right in the beast’s belly, about to be swallowed whole.

Golden eyes trace over the dolls, each dressed in dark and light dresses alike, their porcelain skin beautiful. Then, she finds the string of green wool again.

She can’t help but reach for it, holding it gently between her fingers as she follows it deeper into the house. She finds a kitchen, large and spacious, but far less regal looking than any room back at the castle. No, this manor has no bright, golden and red colours. All here is dark and faded, but homely, humble even, in some way. It feels inviting, somehow. She feels a little less lonely in this seemingly empty house than she does at the large castle, she realises. She wonders; perhaps she can show this to Bela and Cassandra when she’s back.

Abandoning the string for a moment, Daniela inspects the kitchen. Despite the manor’s abandoned style, all is in place and tidy, save for the string. She opens a few cabinets, finding ingredients and tools she has seen at the castle, too. Cooking tools, she guesses. She finds bread and berries, herbs and silverware. As she caresses the counters with her fingertips, she finds not even the faintest trace of crumbs on it. On the counter are vases, sporting yellow, red and even white flowers. She allows her fingertip to trace a petal gently, before her attention drifts to the part of the room besides the kitchen.

A table, small, and a sofa and chairs. A bookshelf. Immediately, she rushes towards it, a large smile on her dark painted lips. Then, she flinches back when she finds a doll sitting on one of the chairs. It’s dressed in a simple black dress, voluminous and rich looking. Her hair is cut short, to her shoulders, but looks adorable paired with the little black hat sat on it. Daniela can’t help but smile. She reminds her of the dolls Alcina had gotten her and her sisters as reborn fly spawns, back when her sisters had the time to play dress up and play with dolls with her, back when they had time to indulge her and participate in her parties. Now, she can only do so by forcing some maidens to join in, though knows they never quite want to. And even as she tries it occasionally, a tea party with only her and some mangled corpses as attendants just isn’t any fun.

“Aren’t you a cutie!”, she praises, and while the doll doesn’t move or answer, unsurprisingly to her, she finds she feels a strange sensation of pride and satisfaction spread within her body, emerging right from the mark on her back. She giggles at the light feeling, thinking nothing of it, and turns back to the shelf.

There, she pulls some books aside, though frowns when she finds no romances or fairytales among them. Still, at the back of her mind she notes that Bela would likely enjoy the many studies and biographies the bookshelf holds. Maybe she’ll show her those, if she ever stops working and has the time to see this place for herself, she can’t help but think bitterly.

Finding nothing of interest, she returns to the string and follows it deeper into the place.

Rounding a corner, she finds another hallway, less rich than any in the castle, even feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She pauses for a moment, watching the string as it leads down the hallway and right to a corner, again.

“Good”

She jumps at the voice, low and ghost-like, coming from the walls. Or her head? Daniela shivers a little at the mere thought of such a thing.

“Closer”, it beckons. She can’t help but obey.

She follows the string again, finding two doors at the hallway. She reaches for the handle of one, but shrieks when the string in her hand burns hotly, matching her sore back. Immediately she returns to the middle of the hallway, looking around somewhat like one might describe a lost puppy. The poor thing is panting, feeling the string and her back calm again. Clearly, there is no time to explore the place to her liking.

Her feet move beyond her control, carrying her deeper into the quiet house. She finds more dolls sat along the counters and the floor, all seemingly watching her. She shivers, walking on her own again, her curiosity growing.

Rubbing the string between her fingertips, she wonders whether this is it. Could it be? Could her lost lover be trying to contact her? Will this mark the end of her loneliness? She shivers, the air heavy, but still she feels anticipation.

As she walks down the hallways of the manor, deeper and deeper, memories return to her.

Memories of sitting by the flowers, crying, a kind woman comforting her. Dressed in black, intriguing. She knew her, she knows. But, who? She follows the string to an elevator and giggles. How modern! Oblivious to the danger she is in, Daniela steps inside and allows its metallic doors to close behind her. She shivers again at the ghostly touches caressing her back and shoulders. Already, she feels less lost, less alone. This must be it!

Without pushing a button, the elevator moves downwards.

Another memory hits her, of herself this time. She feels what she felt, the love and anticipation and submission as she kneels on the ground for the woman before her. She feels the woman’s fingers on her, caressing her cheeks, then trapping her chin. She looks up obediently despite the elevator being empty aside from her and a few dolls she hadn’t noticed before. She thinks nothing of it, she likes the small puppets.

Daniela gasps as another phantom touch has her feel a hand sliding past her back and her hip. The memory is gone, but she feels it, she feels how very close she is.

Just a little more, then she knows.

She must know.

Just a little more.

When the doors open, she gasps as something hits her, something familiar. She feels as if in a trance yet again, pheromones around her leading and luring her in, her vision slightly blurred, her body heavy, her flies entirely unresponsive. She doesn’t jump when the dolls by her side jump to life, doesn’t flinch away when their little hands grab at hers and lead her out the elevator.

She follows obediently, her head a fuzzy, blurry mess.

“Come”

“Closer”

“Very good”

The voice, so low, so beautiful. She knows it, she’s so sure she’s heard it before, but where? She closes her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as she is led along.

Daniela no longer cares for exploring, for her environment, for returning to Bela, for retreating to the castle again. She needs to follow the voice, needs to find its origin, her lover so close, she’s so sure. Her soulmate, her everything. It all feels almost within her grasp, now. They’d understand if she stayed away just a little more, she’s sure.

The memory of the previous night continues on, Daniela sees the dark, shadowy figure of a woman. She hears her low voice, the same she hears now. She feels lightheaded, smiles wide when she feels the memory of being undressed. She doesn’t notice the ghostly phantom hands return to her, copying the movements she’s remembering until the torn cape clasped off and her dress comes off. She’s so happy, so calm, so utterly lost to her love and the memory.

She feels the love she felt, feels the warm embrace. Her back burns and it feels so nice and warm, so comforting. She’s so lost in everything, Daniela doesn’t even notice it when the collar always hugging her throat is removed, the green gemstone breaking as it falls to the floor abruptly. She can’t bring herself to notice, can’t bring herself to care, to resist. She will be taken care of, she will be loved. The poor, delusional thing is dreamily thinking of introducing her lover to her family.

She feels the sensation of the memory, her hands grabbed and moved behind her back, setting her up in a perfectly submissive position. Her legs still move, carry her deeper. She’s so close, she knows it. She leans into her memories, pleading with the mysterious woman to grant her more, to let her remember the last night to its fullest.

Daniela’s body flushes as she remembers being pushed against her lover’s cunt, her nose grazing her clit. She remembers the fingers dipping into her in turn and instinctively pushes her thighs together even as she walks. She feels it, almost, the blissful feeling and taste of it all.

“Good girl”

“Come closer, my darling”, Donna coos, sensing how the petnames feed into poor Daniela’s delusion. She’s so close, nearly has her doll precisely where she needs her.

Daniela gasps as she walks blindly, led by the dolls and the phantom hands at her hips and shoulders. She tastes the woman’s lips, tastes them against her gentler ones. She feels it, almost sees her, almost there. She sees dark clothing, strong, skilled fingers. She hears her voice, commanding her to spread her legs, she feels the pleasure that follows from her obeying. Why would she ever not want to obey? She loves the sweet reward that follows.

Donna watches as Daniela steps into the dark workshop, her eyes open but glossy, her reality turned completely, trapping the little doll in her delusions and memories, a fantasy world created by none other than her skilled dollmaker.

She doesn’t move, leans confidently against the workbench as Daniela approaches her, led and pushed gently, completely bared to her save for her soaked underwear and stockings. She sees the woman’s hard nipples reacting to the environment, smells her arousal even.

Daniela gasps as she’d made to cum, her back burning, so bad, so good. She’s cradled, her eyes heavy. When she gazes up, she finds the dark eye of none other than Donna Beneviento.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁  ! ⺌ . ⸺  NPE! 

PART ONE! | Volume I

Synopsis; "So, you’re an alien, huh?" Yeah, sure, maybe you’re a little... different. But honestly, who isn’t? The earthlings think you’re weird? Nope. It’s just that they’re a bunch of clueless humans, totally missing the point. You, on the other hand, have a higher calling. A mission to discover the meaning of life—you know, the whole ‘why am I here, and what am I supposed to be doing’ thing. Simple, right?

Except, uh... there’s a small hiccup. You don’t even know what species you are, because someone forgot to leave the alien instruction manual. Oops. So, while you’re out there doing some random side gig (you know, the one that might help you find out more about your roots and, oh yeah, pay the rent), you accidentally get tangled up in the lives of two earthlings.

Of course, you swear to protect them because, well, you kind of owe them. Maybe. Or maybe not. Who’s to say? Either way, your purpose might get a little... distracted. But hey, priorities, right?

Pairing ── Dan Da Dan x Alien! Fem/Neutral? Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Manga Spoilers, Violence/Death, Blood, Invasion of Privacy, Invasion of Mind, Abduction, Kidnapping, Angst, Murder, Disturbing Content, Corruption, Isolation,Paranoia, Manipulation, Unintended Time Travel Mishaps, Alien Romance Tropes, Sudden Existential Crises, Unexplained Tentacle Appearances, Turbo Granny's Sass, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gravity-Defying Physics, Psychic Overload, Ambiguous Yōkai Allegiances, Excessive Hair-Related Powers, Sudden Dance Battles in Crisis, Outdated Alien Fashion Choices, Malfunctioning Spacecraft Humor, Intense Staring Contests, Time-Dilated Cliffhangers, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Polyamory, LGBTQ+ Content, ¿Gender-fluid or Non-binary Character? (Not with respect to pronouns, but to their genitals xd), Unconventional Relationship Dynamics, Consent Issues in Alien Interactions, Mind-altering Love Spells, Extreme Jealousy, Existential Dilemmas on Love and Identity, Mind-Controlling Aliens.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Oh my god, how did this happen 😱 sorry to everyone (@flwes & @redberrysstuff) who saw the incomplete story, I feel SO embarrassed. Ugh, I swear, autocorrect and my clumsiness are going to kill me one of these days. :"(( But seriously, I promise the full version is coming, just give me a second to fix it.

"Idiot! Moron! Squid! Tuna!" Momo Ayase shouted from the ground, her face flushed with rage as she watched her now ex-boyfriend walk away with that annoying mix of guilt and annoyance in his eyes. "Never call me again!"

"Momo? Are you okay? Or should I sign up for the next round of sea insults?" asked a familiar voice behind her.

Momo turned around, still frowning, but the sight disarmed her a bit. There was Y/n Seigai, with that carefree energy that always seemed straight out of a movie. She wore a short plaid skirt and a white blouse that highlighted her figure, complemented by long socks and platform shoes with a puma print that screamed confidence. Her makeup was simple yet striking, enough to make anyone turn to look at her. And, as always, she had something in her hand: this time, a frozen yogurt popsicle that she licked absently as if nothing in the world could disturb her calm.

"Late again, huh?" Momo huffed, crossing her arms and standing up, her gaze as severe as a frustrated mother.

"What? Was that a 'thank you for coming to the rescue, Y/n'? Because if so, your tone needs a little work," Y/n replied with a cheeky smile, making an exaggerated gesture to offer her a lick of her popsicle. "Want some? Frozen yogurt cures broken hearts. It's science."

"I don't want your stupid popsicle, idiot! And stop changing the subject! You're late to school again! Do you know how many times I've been asked why you can't arrive on time? I feel like your babysitter!"

Y/n theatrically sighed, placing a hand on her chest as if Momo had wounded her pride. "Oh, Momo. Always so responsible, so punctual... except when you decide to sleep in on Mondays. Remember last Monday? Because I do; you were running out with a toast in your mouth."

Momo opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it, blushing a little. "That was different! And don’t change the subject!"

"Okay, okay, sorry, mom," Y/n said with a mischievous smile, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. "But in my defense, it's not my fault that the coffee at that corner is so good it makes me lose track of time."

"You have a watch on your wrist, Y/n! And a phone with alarms! ALARMS!"

"Well, my alarms and I have a complicated relationship..." Y/n murmured as she took another lick of the popsicle.

Momo couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, although her lips curled slightly into a smile. That was the dynamic with Y/n: serious and responsible when necessary but with enough chaotic moments to drive her crazy. And even though sometimes she wanted to give her a good lecture, she couldn't deny that Y/n always knew how to lift her spirits, even on days like today.

"Come on, Momo. Let's get to class. I promise we'll make it before the bell rings... probably," Y/n said, offering her the popsicle as a peace gesture.

"Probably isn’t good enough! And I don’t want your silly popsicle," Momo shot back, but she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as they started walking together.

As they crossed the school gates, Momo and Y/n couldn’t help but draw attention. They were, without a doubt, a striking pair: Momo, with her natural charisma and perfectly polished gyaru style, walked with purpose while continuing to rant about her now ex-boyfriend; Y/n, on the other hand, exuded a magnetic nonchalance, her skirt swaying with each step and a yogurt popsicle still in her hand, as if school were just another runway in her day.

"And then he has the nerve to say I’m playing hard to get! Can you believe it?" Momo gestured dramatically, as if still arguing with her ex.

"Mm-hmm," Y/n murmured, not stopping her slow lick of the popsicle. "Sounds like someone needs a 'How Not to Be an Idiot' manual. Should I mail him one?"

"Not even that! He’d probably lose it, like he loses all common sense," Momo shot back, rolling her eyes.

As they made their way down the hallway, students stepped aside to let them pass—some admiring their style, others whispering comments among themselves. Momo was so engrossed in her complaints she barely noticed the stares. Y/n, however, threw the occasional wink or offered a carefree smile, as if she were used to being the center of attention.

"Can you stop flirting with the entire hallway? I’m having a crisis here!" Momo snapped, giving her a light nudge.

"Flirting? I’m just being friendly. But if you want all my attention, Momo, you only have to ask," Y/n replied with a mischievous grin.

"God, you’re unbearable!"

Finally, they reached their classroom, where their other two friends, Miko and Muko, were waiting.

Miko was seated by the window, her small bow perfectly in place and her uniform impeccable, though always with her personal touch. Her beige sweater and loosely tied ribbon gave her a relaxed vibe, but her bright smile showed she was ready for a day full of energy.

Muko, in contrast, was impossible to ignore. Her tan skin stood out against her blonde hair styled into pigtails, and the manba makeup she wore proudly added a bold edge to her look. Her uniform followed the same pattern as the other girls', but on her, everything seemed a bit more daring—from the slightly oversized sweater to the way her loose socks fell perfectly over her sandals.

"Wow! Took you long enough," Miko said with a smile as she saw them walk in. "I thought you’d actually be on time today."

"Tell that to Miss 'Coffee is More Important Than Punctuality,'" Momo replied, giving Y/n an accusatory look.

"Me? I arrived just in time to make this spectacular entrance," Y/n said, spinning dramatically before flopping into her seat.

"Jealous, Miko?" Muko chimed in as she adjusted one of her pigtails. "They walk in, and the whole hallway stares. People only look at us when Miko shouts something ridiculous."

"Hey! That was one time," Miko retorted, crossing her arms with feigned indignation.

Momo let out a sigh, but a smile began to form on her lips. Being with them was always like this: chaotic, fun, and somehow reassuring.

"Alright, girls, now that we’re all here, I need advice. How do you get over an idiot who just wants you to pay for everything and only cares about sleeping with you?"

"Easy," Y/n said, raising her popsicle as if it were a trophy. "You get over him by being yourself: brighter, more fabulous, and completely out of his league. Like always, Momo."

"Amen," added Muko, lifting her phone for a quick selfie with Miko, who automatically struck a pose.

Momo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. Yes, her group was a mess in its own way, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

"Okay, seriously, what happened? Why are you so upset? We know it’s not because of Y/n, because when you’re mad at her, you yell louder than a megaphone," Miko said, raising an eyebrow with that teasing attitude she always had when she wanted to get under Momo’s skin.

Momo let out a heavy sigh and flopped onto the desk. "Nothing... that idiot dumped me, and then I started insulting him... using fish names."

Y/n, who was lounging back in her chair with her feet on the desk as if she were at home, couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Fish names. Like ‘Tuna’ and ‘Squid’. Because I’m sure that hurt his feelings a lot. Wow, Momo, terrifying. Do you really think that’s going to change his mind?"

"Ha, I’m dying," Muko said, testing a bit of her makeup while laughing. "Fish names aren’t insults, Momo. What were you expecting, ‘Shark’ or ‘Piranha’? Now those might be scary!"

Momo frowned, looking at her friends as if they were aliens. "You’re supposed to comfort me! He was my first boyfriend! My first, girls!" Momo waved her hands dramatically, as if she had lost something truly valuable.

Muko looked at her with a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "We told you to forget about him, Momo. It was obvious he wasn’t worth it."

Y/n nodded with mock seriousness, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Yeah, can you remind me what was supposed to be so great about him? Was it the guy who always wore shirts two sizes too small? Or was it his talent for making you feel bad every time you talked about your dreams?"

"It’s just... he looked like Ken Takakura," Momo replied, as if it were an irrefutable justification, throwing her hands up as if there were nothing more to say.

The three friends sighed in unison, a sound so synchronized it could have been rehearsed.

"There she goes again..." Muko muttered, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Ugh, here we go," Miko said, glancing at Y/n and raising an eyebrow. "The story of the guy who ‘looked like’ Ken Takakura. Momo, are you sure you don’t have a poster of him at home?"

"She doesn’t just have a poster, let me tell you," Y/n said, remembering the time she stayed over at Momo’s house while her grandmother was away for a few days.

Y/n, who had just finished her popsicle and was now grinning mockingly at the others, tossed the stick out the window with perfect precision. "Here we go with your nonsense again, Momo. First it was ‘Ken Takakura,’ then it’ll be ‘Tom Cruise,’ and next you’ll tell me you fell for some guy who looks like an anime character. Stop idealizing guys, seriously."

Momo shot her a glare. "It’s not the same, Y/n! Ken Takakura is an icon, a real man!"

"Yeah, a movie man probably under contract with boredom, because guys like him don’t exist in real life," Y/n said, striking a dramatic pose as she crossed her arms.

Momo shrugged. "I don’t know what it is about him… but there’s something, I swear."

"What he has is that he’s in movies, not real life," Miko replied with a somewhat philosophical tone, as if she’d just imparted a profound truth about reality.

"So what, huh!? I like tough guys, like Ken Takakura!" Momo shouted, raising her hand as if she’d just made a worldwide announcement about her love for cinematic men.

Miko and Muko exchanged glances and, with almost perfect synchronization, replied, "Momo, we’ve got a surprise for you… those men are extinct."

Momo immediately dropped her head, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. Her shoulders slumped, and her smile vanished in an instant. "What? Extinct? That can’t be true!" she muttered, as if she’d just taken a direct hit to the heart.

"Sorry, Momo," Miko said with a mischievous smile. "Men like that don’t exist anymore. All we’ve got now are guys in sweatpants with cat wallpapers on their phones."

Momo let out a deep sigh, an exaggerated expression of sorrow crossing her face. "So what?! What am I supposed to do with my life? Settle for guys who don’t even know what a good hairstyle is?!"

With the theatrics worthy of a telenovela star, Momo stood from her seat, leaving the others watching as she exited the classroom as if she’d just lost the most important battle of her life.

"Did what we said hurt her feelings?" Miko asked, a faint smile on her face, though she already knew the answer.

"No," Y/n replied, standing up without looking back, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and concern. "It hurt because it’s true."

Momo, on the verge of stepping into the hallway, didn’t notice Y/n following her. As Y/n caught up, she saw Momo walking with slumped shoulders, as if she were on a farewell mission for her love life.

Y/n walked up to her side and, with a playful smile, nudged her shoulder lightly. "Come on, Momo, don’t be like that. There are still guys out there who aren’t complete disasters."

Momo gave her a sad look. "I don’t know, Y/n. Maybe tough guys are just a fantasy. Like Ken Takakura. A legend of the past!"

"Well, if you ask me, the real tough guy is standing right here!" Y/n said, pointing a thumb at herself with a cheeky grin. "Forgot about us? We’re the tough ones now."

Momo glanced at her sideways, a flicker of humor returning to her eyes. "The problem is I don’t have time for girls who make bad jokes."

Y/n followed her, chuckling softly. "I’m the best company you could ask for, and I’ll prove it!"

The two walked down the hallway, leaving the classroom behind, Momo still a little down but starting to relax, with Y/n beside her as always—joking, stylish, and promising that there was always something better than a movie fantasy.

"Let’s go, Momo," Y/n said with a sly smile. "Tough guys may not exist anymore, but we’re unstoppable!"

Momo couldn’t help but smile, even if just a little. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad after all.

As Momo and Y/n passed by the nearest classroom, they couldn’t help but notice a group of boys throwing paper balls at a smaller, scrawnier boy with a hairstyle clearly modeled after Nobita from Doraemon.

Momo frowned immediately, spotting the bullying behavior. Y/n tensed beside her. Both of them hated bullies, and they weren’t about to stand by and do nothing.

One of the boys, grinning stupidly, picked up a paper ball and said loudly, "Stick a magnet in it! That’s gotta hurt!"

As he prepared to throw it, now with a magnet inside, a shadow loomed over him. Turning around, he found Momo sitting in front of him, her expression unimpressed. Behind him, Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her gaze so intense it could’ve melted anything in its path.

"Hey," Momo asked, looking at the boy with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "What are you reading?"

"Uh… this…" the boy stammered, glancing nervously between the bullies and the girls.

The boys throwing the paper balls didn’t seem to realize what was happening. They turned back to their antics, ignoring the two girls who weren’t about to stay quiet.

Momo quickly stood up, shooting the bullies one last look. "What a bunch of idiots," she said, rolling her eyes. "It’s like this world is full of losers."

Y/n sighed, observing the chaos with a smile that hid something deeper. She was about to leave with Momo until her eyes caught the title of the magazine the boy was reading.

"The Occult," she read aloud, raising an intrigued eyebrow and smiling faintly. "Interesting…" she murmured before stepping toward Momo, leaving the minor chaos of the classroom behind.

"Come on, Momo," Y/n teased as she walked alongside her. "You look like you just had to pay taxes or something. Relax."

"You’d feel the same way if you were surrounded by idiots!" Momo snapped, crossing her arms indignantly.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice thundered behind them:

"MOMO AYASE! Y/N SEIGAI!"

"Huh? Now what?" Momo said, turning around with a frown.

It was the nerd from earlier. He was running toward them with all his might, gasping for breath as if he’d just escaped a marathon. When he reached them, he stopped so abruptly he almost fell over.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he shouted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What?" Y/n asked, visibly confused, glancing at Momo with a raised eyebrow.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he repeated, louder this time, with an oddly intense conviction. "That’s the only reason someone like you would talk to someone like me!"

Momo blinked slowly and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "You’ve already said that. Can you switch up your dialogue? You sound like a broken record."

Y/n put a hand to her face, muttering, "Have you lost your mind? Where did you even get that crazy idea?"

The boy looked at them with desperate eyes, as if he was about to reveal some cosmic secret. "I’m talking about this!" he exclaimed, pulling something out as if presenting irrefutable proof.

Both girls tilted their heads simultaneously, trying to figure out what he was holding.

"Is that... a magazine?" Momo asked, squinting.

"Yes! A limited edition of The Occult! I know you’re into this because I saw how you looked at it earlier! President Obama has already been to Mars! This is the full story of the Pegasus Project! You’re into the paranormal!"

Momo closed her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead, clearly trying to summon some patience. "Look, genius, we’re not planning to be your best friends or start a paranormal book club with you. We don’t believe in UFOs or aliens."

"They’re not UFOs, they’re UAPs! Unidentified Aerial Phenomena!" the boy yelled enthusiastically, holding up the magazine like it was some sacred manifesto.

He began talking again, with a passion that seemed endless. Y/n listened with a half-smile, entertained by the chaos he brought with him. But soon, she felt Momo’s hand squeeze hers—a clear sign: Momo was about to lose her temper.

And then, she exploded.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?! MY HEART’S BEEN BROKEN, AND I’M NOT IN THE MOOD! AND YOU’RE SO ANNOYING WITH YOUR NERD STORIES THAT NOBODY CARES ABOUT, OKAY?! THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS!"

The boy froze, his mouth open and his eyes wide like saucers. Even Y/n, who was used to Momo’s outbursts, raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Low blow," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Still fuming like a volcano, Momo pointed at the boy. "Don’t even think about talking to us again! Let’s go, Y/n!"

But Y/n didn’t move. She looked at the boy with some pity, her eyes softening. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... she didn’t mean it, okay? She’s upset because she had a bad day. Don’t take it to heart," she said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Momo stopped and turned around, clearly picking up on Y/n’s accusatory tone even though she hadn’t said anything else. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine! I’m sorry, dude! I went too far. Happy now?"

She picked up the magazine that had fallen to the floor and handed it back to the boy, though her lips were still pursed. "But don’t get excited. I don’t believe in aliens. I’m more into ghosts and spirits, got it?"

Out of nowhere, the boy started laughing—not a polite chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh that echoed down the hallway.

"Don’t tell me you actually believe in spirits," he said, still laughing as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Momo froze, her frown deeper than ever. "Are you making fun of me?!" she shouted, stepping toward him with clenched fists.

Before anyone could react, the two launched into a heated argument. Momo insisted that spirits were real, while the boy passionately defended his UAPs. Y/n, stuck between them like a referee in a wrestling match, glanced toward the hallway. There stood Miko and Muko, watching the scene with amused smiles as they whispered to each other.

"These two are hopeless," Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling her patience wear thin.

Finally, she snapped.

"ENOUGH! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!" she yelled, pushing them apart with a hand on each shoulder. Her voice was so loud that even Miko and Muko stopped laughing to peek in with curiosity.

"Here’s the deal," Y/n said, crossing her arms authoritatively. "If Momo proves that spirits exist, you’ll become her personal errand boy. But if you prove that UFOs—sorry, UAPs—are real, then she’ll be your errand girl."

Both of them stared at her in disbelief.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" they shouted in unison, their faces a mix of shock and panic.

Y/n smirked, her tone daring as if she’d just announced the rules of a reality show. "It’s a bet. Take it or leave it."

Momo opened her mouth to protest but then glanced at the boy with a competitive glint in her eyes. "Errand boy, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad."

The boy blinked, clearly trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he raised his chin, determined. "Fine! But get ready to carry my stuff when I win."

Momo narrowed her eyes. "Me? Carry your stuff? Dream on, loser!"

From the hallway, Miko and Muko started laughing again.

"This is gonna be good," Miko said.

"I’m definitely not missing this," Muko added.

Y/n sighed, looking at the two challengers with exhaustion. "Great, now you’re both committed. But if you waste my time, I swear both of you will end up being my errand boys!"

They both nodded, though they still exchanged defiant glares. Y/n couldn’t help but smile. This was either going to be very interesting… or completely chaotic.

⊹ ・・───・・・・───・・ ⊹

"What is this place?! I’M GONNA DIE OF FEAR!" screamed Momo, clinging to you like a lifeline in the middle of the ocean. Her grip was so tight that you seriously considered whether you’d pass out from lack of air or from the creepy atmosphere of the hospital.

"Relax, Momo," you sighed, trying to wiggle free while scanning the surroundings. Nagi University Hospital didn’t disappoint: graffiti-covered walls, broken windows, dark hallways, and that classic feeling that something was watching you from the shadows. "Though… yeah, this place is pretty unsettling."

"UNSETTLING?! THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF A HORROR MOVIE!" Momo shrieked, practically climbing on top of you.

On the other end of the phone, the guy sounded thrilled. "Stop whining! Nagi Hospital is one of the prime spots for UFO sightings! They say if you’re on the rooftop, you get abducted!"

"What’s abduction?" Momo whispered in your ear.

"It’s when aliens kidnap you and experiment on your body," you whispered back.

"Hey, genius, why the rooftop?" you asked, frowning as you tried to keep Momo at a reasonable distance. "What does the rooftop have to do with UFOs?"

"Because UFOs can’t land in the basement, OBVIOUSLY!" he replied triumphantly, as if he’d just solved a universal mystery.

"Are you kidding me…? WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND BUILDS A HOSPITAL WHERE YOU GET ABDUCTED?!" shouted Momo, clearly on the verge of throwing the phone out the window.

"And who in their right mind goes willingly to an abandoned hospital for fun? Oh, wait... you two."

"THAT’S IT!" Momo yelled, red with indignation, and if you hadn’t stopped her, she probably would’ve smashed the phone against the nearest wall.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you!" you interrupted, rubbing your temples. "Listen, Nobita of the UFO fandom, you focus on your tunnel and tell us if you see anything weird. We’ll try not to die or get abducted, deal?"

"Perfect! And record everything! This could change history!" he said excitedly, as if already drafting his speech for NASA.

"Sure, sure. If aliens take me, I’ll make sure to Facetime you," you muttered as Momo tugged at your arm.

"YOU GO FIRST! I’M NOT GOING ALONE!" Momo demanded, pointing at the dark hallway leading to the rusty elevator.

"Me first? I’d rather we just go home and call it a day. We’ve done enough for one evening."

Momo huffed but then crossed her arms and stared at the floor, thoughtful. "If we leave now, that idiot’s gonna laugh at us all week."

"What do you prefer? Him laughing at us, or us getting abducted? Because I know where my priorities lie, and aliens don’t make the top 10."

There was a brief silence as you both weighed your options. Finally, Momo sighed dramatically, like she’d just decided to climb a mountain. "Fine, but if anything weird happens, you handle it. I’m just gonna scream and run, deal?"

"I wouldn’t expect anything less from you," you replied with a tired smile as the two of you ventured into the dark hallway. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the empty walls, while the guy on the other end of the phone kept rambling about "electromagnetic phenomena and alien microwaves."

"By the way!" said the guy, as if he had just remembered something. "If you see strange lights, don’t get close. They’re a sign of imminent abduction."

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Anything else we should know before we get abducted?"

"Yeah, if you get abducted, ask them how they travel faster than light. I’m really interested in that!"

"WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH THINKS ABOUT THAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" Momo screamed, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh. At least the strange humor was helping to calm the terror a little.

"Hey, kid, let’s be honest... you’ve never seen a UFO in your life, have you?" Momo asked, crossing her arms and looking at him with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

The guy adjusted his glasses, clearly offended. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT REGRESSIVE HYPNOSIS IS?"

"DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" Momo snapped, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "I asked you something very simple."

He raised a finger, completely ignoring her while striking a dramatic pose. "THE QUESTION ISN’T WHETHER I’VE SEEN A UFO..."

"Uh-huh, sure," murmured Y/n, rolling their eyes.

"WHAT MATTERS ARE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE THEORY!" he continued, in such a serious tone that it sounded like he was giving a lecture on astrophysics.

Momo sighed, clearly losing patience. "Again with your nonsense, oh my god. Don’t you ever get tired? Or do you recharge with solar batteries?"

"THIS ISN’T NONSENSE! IT'S SCIENCE! IT’S TRUE!" he protested, with an almost comical intensity.

"Yeah, sure. And how’s it going there, huh? Anything interesting besides your ‘theories’?" Momo said, looking around with feigned indifference as she tried to change the subject.

"I’VE ARRIVED... TOO SHY... SHY... TO THIS MYSTERIOUS PLACE..." the guy shouted on the phone, his voice echoing in the dark, damp tunnel. "WELL... NOW IT'S TIME TO PROVE IT!"

Momo frowned, not as convinced by his enthusiasm. "Please, do you really think this place is special? It’s all dark and super creepy!"

"YOU’RE SCARED! YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE INTERNET, HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A GHOST?!" the guy yelled, his voice strangely echoing in the tunnel.

"Not at all," Momo replied with a nervous laugh, though her gaze darkened a little.

"WHAT WAS THAT RANT ABOUT EARLIER?!" she shouted, pointing at the phone. "TAKE BACK EVERYTHING YOU SAID! How can you believe in spirits if you've never even seen one?"

"What's so strange about that?" Momo shot back, crossing her arms. She lowered her voice a bit before continuing: "I told you... my grandmother is a medium. She raised me because... well, because I don’t have parents."

There was a brief silence. Even the guy on the phone seemed to be lost for words. Y/n looked at Momo, noticing an expression they rarely saw on their friend: nostalgia mixed with sadness.

"I didn’t know..." murmured the guy on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Momo continued, trying to appear indifferent. "My parents died when I was little. So my grandmother took care of me. But of course, my grandmother wasn’t a normal person. She always talked about spirits, spells, energies. Before going to school, she’d make me do a ritual to protect me from ‘bad vibes’ or something like that. And if I didn’t do it, she’d get mad at me."

"And did you do it?" Y/n asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Momo sighed. "At first, I had no choice. But... it was horrible. The other kids would laugh at me. Even the guy I liked... one day he saw me doing one of those rituals and, well, he thought I was an idiot. From that moment on, he started avoiding me. It was the worst."

"That sounds tough," Y/n commented, with a more serious tone.

"Yeah, it was," Momo admitted, shrugging. "I got really angry with my grandmother for that. I think I even said things I shouldn’t have. I felt really alone. But... now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the ritual that bothered me. It was seeing how they laughed at my family, how they didn’t understand what it meant to us."

"It must have been hard," Y/n said.

"It was," Momo repeated, looking down. "I didn’t regain trust in my grandmother until recently. I realized that, even though her ideas were strange, she did it because she wanted to protect me. And... well, it's all I have left of my family. So, even though it’s frustrating sometimes... I guess I understand her."

The guy on the other end of the phone cleared his throat, breaking the mood. "Well... I don’t know much about spirits, but your grandmother sounds... interesting."

Momo laughed a little. "That’s a polite way to put it. But yeah, she is."

"My grandmother..." Momo began, her gaze fixed on the darkness of the hospital, as if she were speaking more to herself than to anyone else. "Her work as a medium... I don’t know if it’s real. I’ve never seen a spirit. Never. I don’t even know if my grandmother can really perceive them. But you know something? I don’t care. Because, at the end of the day, she raised me alone. She accepted me as her family, even when I didn’t understand anything she did or said. And, in some way, I believe in her."

There was a silence in the group. Even the guy on the phone seemed to have fallen silent for a moment, as if Momo’s words had struck him.

"That’s why I believe in spirits," she continued. "Not because I’ve seen them, but because I believe in my grandmother. And that’s enough for me."

Y/n looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. It was rare to hear Momo speak so sentimentally, but somehow, the sincerity of her words hit like a punch to the chest.

"And you?" Momo asked, turning back to the phone. "Why do you believe in aliens, huh?"

"That... that’s different," the guy replied, somewhat uncomfortable. "You don’t have to see something to know it exists. There’s evidence, theories, data..."

Momo let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, sure. Evidence and theories. But tell me something, genius: have you ever seen an alien with your own eyes?"

"Well... no," he admitted, somewhat hesitantly.

"Then what makes you different from me? Why do you assume that yours is more real than mine?"

"Because it’s science," he quickly responded, defensively.

"Science?" Momo raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You call science looking at forums on the internet and reading conspiracy theories from people who’ve probably never left their basement?"

"It’s not the same!" he exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

Y/n decided to intervene before the conversation turned into an argument. "Okay, okay, both of you, calm down. Look, I think Momo has a point. But you do too, mysterious guy. At the end of the day, if you like something, you don’t need reasons to believe in it, right?"

They both fell silent, though their expressions showed they still had a lot to say.

"By the way," Momo added, slightly changing the subject, "you talk about aliens like you know everything about them, but... you have the voice of someone who doesn’t leave the house much, am I wrong?"

"What are you implying?" he asked, clearly offended.

"That you probably haven’t talked to another person in months, other than us on the phone," she replied with a teasing smile.

"That’s not true!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

Y/n chuckled softly while observing their dynamic. Even though they argued constantly, there was something strangely entertaining about their interactions.

"Anyway," Momo said, returning to the previous topic, "I don’t know if aliens exist, but one thing I’m sure of: we don’t need evidence to believe in what matters to us. That includes my grandmother... and I guess your aliens too."

"I guess you’re right," the guy admitted, in a somewhat resigned tone.

"Of course I am," she responded confidently.

"Well," Y/n interrupted, looking around, "before we continue to philosophize, can we just focus on not dying here? Because this place still gives me the creeps."

"I'll second that motion," Momo added, adjusting her hair. "Come on, Y/n. And you, kiddo, keep looking for your evidence. We'll do our thing."

"Don't forget to record something if you see a spirit!" he replied.

"Sure, and if we see an alien, we'll introduce you to it in person," Momo replied sarcastically as she walked with Y/n into the darkness of the hospital.

The boy moved slowly through the tunnel, his flashlight wobbling with each step. The place was dark, damp, and had a strange smell, as if time had stopped there. The echoes of his footsteps made him think he wasn't alone, although he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Suddenly, something stopped him.  A few feet in front of him, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

It was an old woman, hunched over, dressed in worn clothes and a hat that looked like it was from another era. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, but what stood out the most was her twisted, almost grotesque smile.

“What the…?” he muttered, trying to back away.

The old woman looked up, and her eyes shone with an unnatural intensity.

The old woman took a step forward. “I’ll let you suck my… tits,” she said with a twisted grimace, “if you let me suck your dick.”

“WHAT?!” the boy shouted, jumping back. His flashlight shook in his hand, and, in his panic, his phone almost slipped from his grasp.

“Momo! Y/n! It’s a ghost!” he shouted into the phone, although he didn’t know if they were still on the line.

From the other side of the tunnel, Momo looked up, irritated.  “What is this idiot saying now?”

The boy ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. Each step echoed like a drum in the tunnel, and his panting was deafening.

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted, stumbling slightly but staying on his feet. “It’s just an old exit! YES, THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO BE!”

He reached his bike, parked at the entrance to the tunnel, and began to wobble as he tried to mount it. His hands shook so badly that he could barely grip the handlebars. “Come on, come on, come on!” he muttered frantically as he tried to pedal.

At that moment, the cell phone in his pocket rang again. It was Momo. With clumsy hands, he pulled out the phone and answered, still panting.

“AYASE! THAT THING IS FOLLOWING ME!”

“Don’t stop, you idiot!” Momo shouted from the other end of the line. “If it catches up with you, you’re done for!”  “It’s the curse of the Old Turbo! If you lose the race against her, she curses you!”

“WHAT!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone would be idiotic enough to provoke her!”

The boy looked back as he pedaled, and his blood ran cold. The old woman wasn’t running… she was floating towards him, with terrifying speed.

“NOOOO!” he shouted, pedaling even harder.

“Don’t look back!” Momo exclaimed, almost hysterical. “Just keep pedaling!”

Suddenly, the tunnel was filled with a strange echo.

Momo, who was still shouting into the phone, noticed something strange. “Hey, wait a minute! Y/n?”

The silence on the other side made her stop. She turned her head and realized that Y/n was no longer there.

“Y/n!? Where are you?!”  he screamed, looking around in panic.

The boy’s cell phone began to crackle with static, and the call was abruptly cut off. He was now alone, the echo of the Turbo Old Lady’s laughter filling the tunnel as he pedaled madly towards the exit.

Momo, still holding his own cell phone, felt a chill run down his spine. “This isn’t right… Y/n? Answer!”

Momo made his way down the hallway, the light from his flashlight shaking with each step he took. The air seemed colder with each meter, and darkness enveloped everything around him. “Y/n? Are you there? Please answer…” he muttered, gripping his cell phone tightly.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed in the distance. Footsteps.

Momo stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing quickening. “Boy? Is that you? Answer!”

But what emerged from the shadows wasn’t Y/n.  They were three tall figures, oddly proportioned. They wore human clothing: buttoned-up shirts with collars, tucked neatly into their pants. The pockets of their shirts were filled with small items, such as pens and a notebook sticking out of one of them. They wore perfectly fitted belts and shiny shoes, as if they had just left an office meeting.

Their heads, however, were anything but human.

They looked like grotesque humanoid masks: expressionless faces with motionless eyes and thin mouths that curved unnaturally. Their movements were stiff, but their eyes followed her with chilling precision.

Momo took a step back, her body trembling. “Who… what are you guys?” she stammered, trying to maintain her composure.

One of them took a step forward, his head tilting slightly, as if he were studying her. Momo didn’t wait any longer.  She turned on her heel and began running down the tunnel, quickly dialing Y/n’s number on her cell phone.

“Y/n! Please answer! There are some weird guys here and—!”

She couldn’t finish. One of the men appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way. Momo screamed and backed away, but she collided with something hard. She quickly turned around and found another one of them, who had appeared behind her without making the slightest noise.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, throwing the flashlight at one of them in a desperate attempt to escape. The flashlight bounced harmlessly off his chest, and he showed no reaction.

Before she could do anything else, she felt an icy pressure on her arm. One of the men had grabbed her, his grip firm but inexplicably cold. “No, no, no! Let me go!”

The cell phone fell from her hands and hit the ground, illuminating for a moment the expressionless face of one of the men.  “Y/n! Help!” was the last thing she managed to scream before she was dragged into the darkness of the tunnel.

The phone was left there, illuminating an empty, cold hallway. In the distance, the echo of the men’s footsteps carrying her away could be heard, but soon, even that sound disappeared.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Momo opened her eyes in shock and confusion. The room was cold, with metallic walls illuminated by bluish lights, and in front of her were three disturbing-looking figures. With elongated heads, greyish skin and large, dark eyes, they looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie. One of them stepped forward and spoke in a monotonous, metallic voice:

"Greetings, human. We are Serpoians. We are called that because we come from the planet Serpo."

"Aliens?" Momo frowned in disbelief. Her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. However, the evidence was undeniable: she was facing something that surpassed any logical explanation.

"Do not be afraid," another of the Serpoians continued with inhuman calm. "We are a peaceful species."

Momo, far from calming down, gritted her teeth. Her eyes frantically scanned the room as she tugged at the restraints holding her wrists.  “Peaceful? Nice guys don’t kidnap girls! Where are my clothes?”

One of the aliens pointed to a nearby table where his clothes lay, in tatters. “Your belongings were handled with care. The damage was… accidental.”

“Accidental?! This isn’t cheap! You’re going to pay for this! And I demand that you return me to my home right now!” he shouted, his voice filling the room.

Despite his protests, the Serpoians seemed immune to his fury. “Our species is entirely male,” one explained in a mechanical tone, as if he were reciting a lesson. “For millennia, we have reproduced through cloning, but this has led to the loss of our emotions and genetic diversity. We seek to regain our biological capabilities… using your genetic code.”

“My what?” Momo looked at them with a mix of confusion and disgust. “You’re completely insane! I will not be a part of your Frankenstein experiments!”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of a sliding door interrupted the tension. A tall, sleek figure strode into the room. His futuristic suit gleamed in the light, form-fitting and full of metallic detailing. His face was hidden behind a sleek helmet that reflected his surroundings like a liquid mirror. His presence was imposing.

“Where is my payment?” he demanded in a firm, authoritative voice.

The Serpoians turned to her. One of them held up a black suitcase. “Here you go. However, it is less than agreed. You delivered late.”

The woman crossed her arms, her posture conveying palpable disdain. “My mentor accepts no excuses. Neither do I. This deal was for a larger sum.”

“The delay justifies the reduction,” one of the aliens replied coldly.

The woman clicked her tongue, visibly upset. Meanwhile, Momo, though still terrified, could not take her eyes off the newcomer.  There was something in her voice, in the way she moved… Something that felt strangely familiar.

Her eyes widened as she connected the pieces. “Y/n?” she muttered, almost breathless.

The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head towards Momo. Although the helmet still obscured her face, the slight shift in her posture made her discomfort clear.

The room fell into a tense silence following Y/n’s words. Momo stared at her in disbelief, her lips trembling as tears threatened to fall.

“What are you doing here, Y/n? What is this? Why are you with them?” she asked with a mix of rage and desperation.

Y/n let out an audible sigh, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s not personal, Momo. It’s just work. You�� were the target. I was paid to bring them what they needed. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Momo raised her voice, her tears finally overflowing. “Is that what I am to you? A job? We were supposed to be friends! I was supposed to be able to trust you!”

Y/n’s helmet reflected the cold lights of the room, hiding any emotion that might have been on her face. But the stiffness of her shoulders gave her away. She tried to stand her ground, looking at Momo from a distance. “This isn’t about you or us, Momo. It’s about… surviving. You don’t understand how my world works. No one survives without making sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?! Is that what I am to you? One more sacrifice to keep you going?” Momo screamed, struggling against the restraints that kept her immobilized. “You were my friend, Y/n! I trusted you like no one else! I always thought you would understand me!”  But here you are, giving me away like I'm... like I'm a thing!”

Momo's words hit like a hammer. For a moment, Y/n stood still, unable to respond. Something in Momo's voice, in the broken sincerity of her words, touched her heart.

“Do you remember what you told me when you picked me up that night?” Momo continued between sobs. “You said that no matter what, you'd be there for me. That friends never betray each other. And look at you now... giving me away like I'm worthless.”

The tension in the room was almost palpable. Even the Serpoians fell silent, watching the confrontation.

Y/n lowered her head slightly, her voice sounding lower, almost unsure. “It's not that simple, Momo... I—”

“Don't give me excuses!” Momo interrupted her, her voice cracking. “Look at me! Tell me that all of this is worth it!  “Tell me you’re okay with what you’re doing!”

Y/n stood still for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Then, she took a step back, clenching her fists at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, barely audible. Without another word, she turned to the Serpoians. “The deal is done. I’m leaving.”

“Y/n!” Momo screamed, her voice filled with desperation. “Please! Don’t leave me here! Please don’t do this to me!”

But Y/n didn’t stop. She headed for the door without looking back, her bright figure disappearing into the dimness of the hallway. Just before the door closed, Momo, her voice cracking, let out one last scream that echoed in the silence:

“I would never have done this to you, Y/n! Never!”

The echo of her words hung in the air, and for an instant, Y/n stood on the other side of the door.  Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn’t turn around. With a quick movement, she disappeared, leaving Momo alone, her sobs filling the room as the Serpoians turned their attention back to her.

“Why…?” Momo whispered through her tears. “Why did you do this to me?”

The Serpoians had run out of patience. One of them approached with cold, calculated movements, a strange humming sound emanating from his device.

“Let us prepare to extract the necessary organs. Your resistance is irrelevant,” one declared in a metallic voice.

Momo struggled uselessly against the restraints, her face drenched in tears. “Get away from me! You cannot do this!”

The alien lifted the probe, slowly bringing it closer to Momo. “We will begin the procedure now.”

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone broke through the air, Momo’s mobile phone began to vibrate on the nearby table. The Serpoians paused, staring at it curiously.

“External interruptions are not acceptable,” one of them said, reaching out a hand to take the device.

Before she could touch it, the phone’s screen lit up in a deep red.  A deep vibration filled the room, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the screen: Y/n, holding a strangely designed pistol.

“Did I interrupt something again?” she asked in an icy tone, pointing directly at the Serpoians.

Beside her, staggering, appeared the boy possessed by Turbo Granny. His body was bent at impossible angles, and his eyes shone with a mix of fear and rage.

“Ayase!” Ken shouted, struggling to stay on his feet as Turbo Granny seemed to control his movements.

The aliens took a step back, observing the scene with a mix of shock and wariness.

“How did you get in here again, Agent Jean Jacket?” one of the Serpoians demanded, raising his hands in a defensive stance.

Y/n let out a dry laugh, though her gaze remained fixed on them. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

Momo, still trapped in the chair, stared at Y/n in disbelief and rage. “Now you decide to show up?! After everything you did?!”

“This doesn’t change anything, Momo,” Y/n said without looking at her, her voice strained. “This is still not personal.”

“Please don’t give me that again!” Momo screamed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

For an instant, Y/n hesitated, but didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled the trigger on her gun, firing a beam that struck one of the Serpoians, knocking it to the ground.

Turbo Granny, controlling Ken, let out a terrifying shriek and launched herself at another alien, biting it ferociously on the torso.

“Momo, take cover!” Y/n screamed as the remaining aliens began to respond to the attack, their suits glowing as they prepared to fight back.

“I can’t! I’m tied up!” Momo screamed in desperation, pulling at the straps with all her might.

Ken screamed in desperation, his body still fighting against Turbo Granny’s possession. Tears fell from his eyes as the words filled the room, his voice cracked from years of repressed pain.

“No matter how many times I called you, you never came!” He exclaimed, fists clenched, body tense under Granny’s control.  “There I was bullied by children, ignored by aliens… children paid me to beat them up!”

Ken’s words were desperate, but the fury and pain seemed to give him the strength to keep fighting. “My life sucked! And no one cared if I was alive or dead… but (Y/n) and Miss Ayase were the only ones who stood up for me! So get your filthy hands off her!”

At that moment, a spark of control seemed to surge within him. His body trembled, but his mind struggled to take back the reins, preparing to attack. Anger fueled him, his will finally regaining some strength.

Momo, from her position, screamed in desperation, unable to do anything but watch as the fight raged. “Hidden-kun! Do it! We need you!”

But amidst the chaos, the aliens began to move, aware of the growing threat Ken posed. One of them, still reeling from Turbo Granny’s impact, gave an order. “Get those humans! They won’t let this end well!”

The tension rose, but the worst seemed yet to come. A Serpoian, with cold, calculated movements, approached Momo, holding her by the shoulders tightly. “If you don’t give us what we ask for, you’ll regret it,” he said in a monotone voice, while his companion watched Ken, who was still trying to break free from Granny’s influence.

“Gross!” one of the other aliens commented, watching the scene become more and more chaotic.

Momo looked at Ken, fighting against his own body, knowing that control was fragile. “Ken! Don’t give up! You can do it!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

“Enough of all this!”  The voice, firm and full of power, boomed through the room.

It was Y/n. Her presence was imposing, the helmet reflecting the light from the screens, but behind it, her expression was determined.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Momo!” she said, as she raised her gun towards the Serpoians.

One of them tried to react, but a direct shot to his torso stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hmm?”

Momo briefly looked away at Ken, but soon returned her focus to Turbo Granny, whose teeth were still piercing her calf.

“I’ll eat your cock!”

“What?” Y/n stepped back, horrified, but still trying to understand the situation.

“I… it’s not me! It’s Turbo Granny!”

“Are you really the only ones who can save me?” Momo thought, as her eyes focused on Ken. The situation was becoming more and more chaotic.

The alien and Momo watched the conflict in silence. Finally, the alien turned his gaze to Momo, noticing the chaos between the humans. “Now I will begin with the excitement.”

He extended his hand over Momo, who closed her eyes, feeling a growing pressure. Her face twisted in disgust as, for a moment, she thought she could no longer get out of this situation. It was then that, in her mind, an image from her childhood began to emerge: an important memory of her grandmother.

“Release your chi.”

“I don’t want to...”

Momo, as a little girl, found herself at the entrance of her grandmother’s house, long before she met you or Ken.

“The other kids always make fun of me for that. I look stupid.” Momo explained to the older woman, as her grandmother knelt in front of her with a calm smile.

“No, it’s not like that… When you release your chi, you will never get hurt or sick.  It will also help you keep evil away.” Grandma placed her hands gently on Momo’s shoulders, before taking her small hands firmly.

“Now, tense your abdominal muscles and imagine your chi rising from the top of your head.”

Momo, with effort, tried to follow the directions. Immediately, a painful memory flashed through her: the children laughing at her when she tried to do that pose.

“I hate it! I won’t do it again!” Momo screamed, shaking her head as her eyes widened in fury.

Her grandmother, still patient, held out her hand, asking for calm. “Momo! Wait!”

“I hate you, Grandma! You’re an imposter!”

That moment of anger made the memory flash through her mind in a distorted way. However, deep down, Momo knew she didn’t hate her grandmother. She only felt ashamed, something she was now beginning to understand.

Then, he began to imagine his grandmother’s words, remembering the technique she had taught him. As he visualized the flow of her chi, something inside him triggered, and, in that instant, the chair containing her broke under her energy.

The fight between Ken and Momo stopped at the same time, both of them staring in amazement as Momo began to levitate.

“What?! She never said she had psychic powers!” Ken exclaimed, his eyes wide as Momo floated.

With a slight bend in her legs, Momo raised her hands, looking at the two men around her in surprise. “I… I didn’t know I had them either.”

The alien who had tried to attack extended his hands towards Momo, but she, now fully focused, stared at him. “My psychokinesis is being repelled by a higher force. What’s going on? Maybe the human’s brain waves were overloaded, allowing her to access her chakra.”

Momo, fascinated by the piece of metal floating above her hand, turned her gaze towards the alien with a determined smile. “She’s not an impostor! My grandmother is a genuine medium! Thank you, Grandma!”

Meanwhile, the boy tried to bite Y/n and in the process, ripped off her helmet, revealing Y/n’s pastel blue skin and the dark blue glowing antennae emerging from her head.

She tried to defend herself, trying not to shoot him with her gun, but he scratched her skin, making fissures that healed automatically.

Momo stood up and, with her newly acquired powers, launched a powerful kick at the alien. However, he raised his arm and stopped her with force. “Now I have the power to face these monsters! And make them fly!” Momo shouted, full of determination.

With a last effort, she kicked the alien, sending him through the walls. The explosion that followed was deafening, and the lights in the room began to flicker violently.

Momo screamed as she felt her body collapse, as she watched the destruction falling around her. “We are inside a real UFO!” she exclaimed, surprised, looking around for Y/n and Ken, and finding them on the ground fighting, she was horrified. “(Y/n)! Occult-kun!”

Swiftly, Momo approached Granny Turbo. Suddenly, her body began to glow with a clear light, while her hair flowed wildly. At that moment, the curse that weighed on Ken disappeared.

Suddenly, the room darkened, turning red. Before them, Granny Turbo appeared, her gaze fixed and malicious. “Who the hell are you two?” she said, her voice cold and challenging.

Turbo Granny curled her fingers, causing Ken to pull away from Y/n, his body arching as a painful gurgle came from his lips. Momo watched, eyes wide, recoiling slightly as she saw how Ken was still under Granny’s control. “Granny is out of her body!” she exclaimed, alarmed. “But he is still under her curse!”

“This child belongs to me,” Turbo Granny said with a mocking smile. “As long as I have him, the curse will not be lifted.  I can't stay here for long, but if you want me to free him, go to the tunnel. If you want to fight me, come to me. Damn classless bitches!”

“Who are you calling a bitch, you filthy old woman?! Give him his penis back!” Momo shouted at the ghost that was walking away.

Y/n, seeing Momo so worried and determined, quickly approached her and, with unexpected strength, lifted her into her arms. Momo blushed at feeling so close to her, her cheeks turning red as she couldn't help but look down, avoiding Y/n's eyes, which were shining with determination.

“Don't worry! We're going to get out of here,” Y/n said firmly, beginning to quickly climb the walls of the UFO with the agility of an expert. Momo clung to her, the warmth of her body comforting her, but her mind was filled with chaos. In her chest, a strange feeling was born, something she had never felt before.

Ken, still disoriented from the curse and the explosion, was on the ground, slowly recovering. Y/n, still moving, lifted him up with one hand, placing him on her back as she continued to ascend.

“Come on, Ken! You have to get up, we have to go now!” Y/n shouted, and Ken, his eyes still somewhat clouded, nodded weakly.

The room was crumbling around them, and a dark energy filled the air. The walls were beginning to shake violently, and the lights flickered desperately. Momo, her face still flushed from the closeness to Y/n, looked down as they ascended, unable to stop her heart from beating faster than normal. What was this strange feeling that was invading her?

Suddenly, a loud boom shook the UFO, and a gigantic explosion went off behind them. The walls began to give way, and the ship seemed to be on the verge of total destruction. Y/n, not losing her cool, leapt forward, bringing Momo and Ken with her in her leap, escaping just before the UFO exploded into a ball of fire.

With a deafening bang, the UFO disintegrated behind them, and in the air, Y/n, Momo, and Ken flew through space, jumping out of the ship's reach, completely safe but on the verge of despair.

Momo hugged Y/n tightly, no longer caring about the blush, as the wind whipped at them, and Ken's body rested on Y/n's back.  The scene was chaotic, but it had all happened so fast, and the only thought running through Momo's mind was how she felt so strangely calm in Y/n's arms, as the ship crumbled behind them.

"Are we safe?" Ken asked, his voice weak, as he watched the distance between them and the exploding ship.

"Yes," Y/n answered, without hesitation. "We're safe... for now."

But as they floated in the air, Momo couldn't help but wonder how they could have survived all of that. And even more so, how her feelings towards Y/n seemed to have changed in a matter of seconds, and what it all meant to her.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Near Kamigoe Prefecture, a curious pastel-green being walked casually through the crowded streets of the city. It had the appearance of a puppy dog, though its size, its long antennae that glowed faintly in the daylight, and its tail that swung like a whip of jelly made it clear that it was no ordinary dog. In one hand it held a burrito wrapped in silver paper, and in the other, a large soda that made gurgling sounds with each step.

The little alien eagerly bit into the burrito, spilling some of the sauce on the ground. It paused for a moment, sucking its fingers before continuing to walk. Its attitude was that of someone who belonged there, though it didn’t bother to hide the strangeness of its appearance. People watched it in awe, but the alien seemed immune to the curious glances.

“Mom, look! A puppy!” exclaimed a little girl with braids, pointing at it with joy.

The being stopped dead in its tracks, its ears (or what seemed to be ears) perking up at the sound. It slowly turned its head towards the little girl, its eyes shining like a pair of tiny green suns. “Who are you calling a puppy, kid!?” it shrieked in a high-pitched voice with an accent that seemed to be from another planet… literally.

The little girl’s mother froze, tugging on her daughter’s hand as she tried to process what had just happened.

“Speak, Mom! The puppy is speaking!” the excited little girl shouted, tugging on her mother’s arm.

The alien, offended, snorted and raised his donkey towards the little girl, as if it were some sort of weapon. “Hey, on my planet, insulting someone by calling them a puppy is a declaration of war, you know? But I’m too busy today to respond to your taunts.”

The mother, now completely terrified, dragged her daughter away from the little being, muttering something about “moving to the country.”  The alien pup shook his head as he took a long sip of his soda, producing a clattering sound that drew even more stares.

“Humans…” he muttered tiredly, his antennae twitching in slight annoyance. “You can’t just walk around town without someone mistaking you for a pet.”

He continued on his way, dodging the crowd with surprising agility for someone with a burrito and a soda in his hands. Every so often, he would stop in front of a store to admire some product, though he quickly grew bored and kept moving.

A man in a suit saw him pass by and frowned. “Is that… a dog in a costume?”

“I’m not a dog!” the alien shouted without even turning around. “And stop looking at me like that or I’ll throw my burrito in your face!”

The threat seemed to have an effect, and the man walked away muttering something about “needing more coffee.”

The little creature finally reached the entrance to the town, where the lights were beginning to fade and the shops were turning into open fields. It stopped and looked out at the horizon, its antennae leaning forward as if it were sensing something. It took a last sip of its soda, letting out a loud burp that echoed through the air.

“Fine…” it said, wiping its mouth with the back of its hand. “Now I just need to find that damn ship before someone else calls me a puppy.”

He continued walking towards the end of the city, his half-eaten burrito still in his hand. Behind him lay a line of perplexed humans, and ahead of him a fate awaited him that, as always, would be anything but boring.

The little alien continued to walk with a sure step, enjoying his half-finished burrito, when suddenly, his antennae began to vibrate intensely. A slight buzzing sound went through his head, as if he had tuned into a distant frequency. His expression tensed, and his eyes, which used to shine with indifference, now narrowed with seriousness.

“What the…?” he muttered, looking around as if searching for the source of the phenomenon. His antennae continued to vibrate, and the buzzing sound grew higher. Then, looking up, he saw it.

In the distance, a thick column of black smoke rose from the old university hospital, followed by an explosion that lit up the sky as if it were a misplaced fireworks display.  The alien dropped his soda, which slowly rolled to a stop in a sewer.

“No way!” he screamed, bringing his hands to his antennae as if trying to stop the humming. He looked back at the hospital, frowning in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/n did it again?!”

The small being began to walk faster, then trotted, muttering under his breath. “I told you not to go soft on the merchandise! But no, you always have to play the heroine, dammit!”

He paused for a moment, as if he had remembered something, and shook his head in frustration. “And you sure left a mess behind, like always! By all the rings of Saturn, you’re really going to listen to me this time!”

With one last glance at the burning hospital, he let out an annoyed growl.  “I hope you at least saved something valuable, because if not…”

The little alien ran off on his short legs, leaving his donkey forgotten on the ground. His pastel green silhouette was lost in the shadows, while the smoke from the hospital covered the horizon, promising chaos and answers in the distance.

A/N ── Oh, hey, it's me again.

First off, let me tell you something: I'm in love with Dandadan. Seriously, I can't even explain how much I was hooked on this series from the moment I found out how it went. It was like a cosmic crush. Each chapter left me more hooked, more obsessed, and obviously I couldn't resist. I ended up buying the ENTIRE manga set that was available so far. I literally couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen with Momo after those last chapters that left me with my heart in my throat. This series is pure magic and chaos, and I can't get over it.

Now, let's talk about my baby, or Y/n. Let me tell you that her spacesuit is directly inspired by Smart Lady from a Japanese series (if you know which one, you're one of mine). I wanted something that screams alien but with style, and I feel like I nailed it... sort of. But, here comes the kicker: her personality is still not well defined. She's a mess, I admit. But that's the whole idea. Because she's an undercover alien, her personality changes depending on the environment she's in. It's like she's constantly adapting to fit in, but at the same time, that lack of consistency is part of her identity. Existential drama at its finest!

And here comes the tricky but interesting part: the character doesn't have a defined gender. Visually, she could pass for a woman, and she identifies as a woman because that's how she feels, but here's the plot twist: she has no defined genitals. Yes, you read that right. She's neither biologically male nor female. She's something beyond that, something that she may not even fully understand. For now, she treats herself as a woman because that's what feels most comfortable and natural to her earthly experience, but... does it really matter? I want to explore how that ambiguity affects her, how it influences the way she sees herself and her interactions with others. It's a key part of her story that I hope to develop little by little.

Oh, and regarding the technical chaos... I know this first part had its problems. It was published by itself, the dialogues were poorly arranged, it was very long, blah, blah, blah. But now, it's all well and good. I think.

[orcelito]

ok i am actually so very angry and there's literally nothing i can do to fix it. life keeps going on. she might even be happy. and fuck dude, i'll make sure im happy too, i was a fully developed person before she was in my life and i'll continue to be one without her. but God Damn, the fact that she can just do something so blatantly awful and unfair to me and then run off without any actual repercussions is just so fucking rankling to me.

like perhaps she feels guilty. she said she did when it was all going down. but it was just something she "needed to do". so obviously she didn't feel guilty enough or she wouldnt have done it like that lmaoooo

i really did deserve to have a good solid yell at her. but unfortunately, by the time i did see her in person i just wanted her out of my fucking life. so. no yelling was done, unfortunately.

[a-simple-imagine]

Don't They Know a Rabbit Can't Cry

Synopsis: while travelling the witches' road you're forced to confront the two witches who left you centuries ago without an explanation.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Words: 2.3k+

WARNINGS - swearing, choking, knives, nightmares, brief mentions of burning and being buried alive and playful use of 'mommy'

A LIFE ONCE LIVED //

It's a quiet evening as you pluck wildflowers in the wake of the setting sun. You would have to head home soon; to avoid the danger of navigating your way back in the dark. The older witch did not like you being out alone at night but you weren't quite done yet. The bouquet had to be perfect. Not that she would ever say otherwise. not to you anyway. Too soft. Too sweet. She had a soft spot for you. They both did. You twist the delicate stem between your fingers. Lavender. Beautiful. Intoxicating. And... hot. Sizzling against the pad of your pointer finger and thumb. And searing into the skin. You drop it quickly. Flames swallowing the single flower. Bizarre. You take another. plucking it from its spot. Flames shoot up from the ground surrounding you entirely. Red hot and roaring as the flowers make way for beautiful flames that dance in the breeze. Creeping closer and closer. Quicker and quicker. Until you feel it burn against your skin.

You jolt up. Sweaty and warm in the night's cold embrace. You're safe. Right now at least. No fire. No nothing. You rub your temple. Just a nightmare. They'd been more frequent as of late. Little flashes of the past engulfed in fiery fury. Fitting. The makeshift campsite was still. The ashes of the small fire dance in the breeze. Witches litter the ground in a moment of respite. You didn't know them but you imagine they're quite desperate. Most weren't brave enough to even dare travel the witches' road anymore. Pushing up you decide to go for a walk. Not far just enough to feel the cool air and calm your heart. Away from prying eyes. There wasn't much around here anyway.

"can't sleep?" it's a startling thing. To hear such a familiar sound so abruptly. It brings with it a quickened heart. A look of surprise. that voice. An unpleasant reminder of the past. That's all this trip seemed to be. A constant trip down memory lane. In many ways, you wish you had never agreed but maybe your darkened heart may still hold a few soft spots.

"just needed a minute alone,"

"That's a dangerous game around here," there is a playfulness to her tone. one that makes your jaw tense.

"can you just go away?" you ask. "I can't- I can't deal with this right now."

"playing hard to get?" just as playful but different. Still familiar. Annoyingly so. "what happened to that sweet girl who brought me flowers every day."

"don't," a threat. You wished not to relive the past right now. Not with them. They didn't deserve to remember you so fondly.

"made us little flower crowns." her voice travelled the woods. Surrounding you from all directions. Trapping you in your spot.

"stop."

"used to bring us fresh bread."

"fuck off," you bite back with an equally sharp turn. Subdued anger began to rise at the mere sight of them. Agatha Harkness. The harbinger of your nightmares. The years had been kind to her appearance but if rumours are to be believed she had a dark reputation. Evil. Soulless. Murderer. Maybe in another lifetime, you would have disagreed. A green witch stood to her side. Far enough away for you to know they weren't on good terms either. She sported a signature smirk you wanted to slap away. Rio Vidal. Infuriating in every conceivable way. They both brought different feelings. Similar but still different. "why can't you just leave me alone?

"we're only checking on you, dear,"

"After such a scary nightmare." Rio teased. "do you need to get in mommy's bed tonight?"

You take a deep breath. Don't raise to her level. Don't give her the satisfaction. It's not quite admitting defeat but you're tired. Falling against a nearby tree. "please leave." you let your head fall back against the bark.

"I'm sure Agatha won't mind,"

"leave the poor girl alone," as always Agatha comes in to mediate. It's always just a little misleading. The woman crouches down before you. Glassy eyes bore into yours and for a moment you're that girl again. The one they remember. Who picked flowers and planned picnics? Ran in the meadow and liked to sit at the edge of the lake. Who held on tight to Agatha's hand as she walked you home. You didn't have much back then. Lived in a small cottage in the woods with your family. The older witch came into your life so abruptly. Looking back on it now she probably just saw a naive girl she could play with. "are you okay?" her question brings you back to reality. The here and now. Stuck on the road with a bunch of washed-up witches and the two people you hate most in the world. Stuck in a never-ending cycle of reliving the past. The end seemed so far away. Who knows if you'll even make it that far with this useless bunch. "do you wanna tell us about it?"

"Agatha," said softly.

"yes, dear?"

"fuck. Off." quiet but firm. You can tell she wasn't expecting it. A little chuckle sounds from behind her. The witch raises.

"fine." Agatha answers. "forgotten how stubborn you can be." your eyes trail after her as she begins to walk away, Rio takes a moment before following. And the question that has been bubbling in your chest for centuries finally comes up.

"Why did you leave me?" they slow to a stop. Yet to turn back. Did you even really want to know the answer? Perhaps it was a question best left unanswered. Years of bitterness already seeped into your bones. Little to be said to make you less angry at them. Less murderous rage. "what did I do?"

"Nothing," Agatha urges. Short and simple. No explanation needed apparently. "don't stay up too late,"

"then why?" you asked again. a little louder. A little firmer. Why was she acting like this? Pretending she cared. It was infuriating.

"Just tell her," Rio presses, turning back to you.

"don't," Agatha places her hand on Rio's shoulder but that doesn't stop the green witch from sulking towards you. A malicious little smile.

"come on, look at her," a knife pointed in your direction as she makes her way over. "just as pitiable as she always has been." she crouches down in front of you much like Agatha had before. But you don't see that girl you once were. Her eyes fill you with anger. It's strange to think you used to admire her so. Used to put flowers in her hair, and she let you. The tip of her blade forces your head up ever so slightly. "A pathetic little girl. Scared of the world," a sharp pain. You swallow hard  "scared of anything real."

"Rio," Agatha walks up, towering over you two. "put it away,"

"Why should I?" she wonders. Pressing a little harder. "tell her."

"What happened to you?" Agatha questions. Your eyes flicker up to her. Did she really want to know or was it diversion. "where does this hate come from?"

"you left me," you reply. A loud bark of laughter from Rio as her blade lowers.

"no," the woman shakes her head slowly. "that's... not it."

"boring," Rio groans loudly. "I didn't lie, y'know? I know you don't want to believe me but it's true. Isn't it Agatha?" the woman rises to her feet. Patting the other witch on the shoulder. "we left because you were weak."

"it... it wasn't quite like that," Agatha offers out a hand. You brush it off, standing up. "we thought you'd be better off."

"alone?"

"without us." Agatha corrects. "you were so..." her eyes trail over you. "different back then. You didn't know you were a witch. You were just so..."

"innocent," Rio insists.

"no- well, yes but not in the way you might think. You just needed a push and we were being so careful,"

"soft," Rio interjects once more.

This little game of back-and-forth was cute. But you didn't care. Rio was using it as an excuse to get some sick sense of pleasure from throwing in insults while Agatha was doing anything to avoid saying what she thought. You knew Agatha. She could be just as mean as Rio. "can you get to the point?"

"you already know," you ignore Rio, looking straight at Agatha.

"We wanted to protect you," you can't help but roll your eyes. That was the best excuse she could come up with. Some fairytail bullshit. "felt easier to leave." you glance at Rio who looked just as over it as you did.

"Agatha thought you'd be better off without us. That we shouldn't be dragging you into a world you weren't ready for. Blah blah blah. Too weak to come with us. If we left you wouldn't get caught up in anything bad,"

"Rio was actually the one who didn't want to go,"

"Whatever," she huffs. Her gaze down at the knife in her hand; twisting the edge against the tip of her forefinger. "I thought it'd be worse if we just left you. that it'd fuck with you- we just needed to be harsher."

"but I was right,"

"you were wrong," Rio answers.

"How? I mean look at her," Agatha ushers towards you. "a full-fledged witch. Survived centuries. That's something. You didn't need us."

"do you wanna tell her or should I?" you wonder if Rio is genuine in her question or if this was just another attempt at teasing. This conversation had mainly been between the two of them.

"Tell me what?"

"I wasn't... okay, Agatha," you admit for perhaps the first time ever out loud. Only Rio knows what happened to you in the years between them leaving and the last time you saw her. You made sure of that. The two of them had grand legacies but you wanted to be forgotten in history. Like the legend of Bloody Mary. Not a sole dare speaks your name anymore because who knows what'll happen if you show up.

"oh bunny," a pet name you hadn't heard in a very long time. It almost seemed childish now. Pathetic. "just talk to me."

"you don't care,"

"god do I have to do everything around here," Rio complains. "she was tried as a witch, Agatha. Use your head for once."

"Rio," you huff.

She rolls her eyes. "burned at the stake."

"Rio," you snarl. "stop. I don't wanna talk about it."

"yes you do," she responds sharply. "you want nothing more than to make Agatha Harkness feel guilty for leaving you. Hurt her the way she hurt you." you dart for her in one swift motion. A hand around her neck. The teasing just becoming too much, and you were sick of hearing her talk.

"you hurt me too," you bark, shoving her against the nearest tree. What should be fear is instead a small smirk and dark eyes.

"fiesty," she quips. She knows you won't kill her. You can't.

"you're the only person to ever leave a mark." you resume. "an ugly scar that my body just refuses to heal."

"come on sweet one." you drive a little harder. "make it hurt."

"do you know what it's like to be tied up and buried in a coffin? To slowly suffocate to death over and over and over again," fingernails dig into the skin of her neck. You can see it's having an effect. The wobble in her smile. "the way your body screams for oxygen. Your insides burning with desire but there is nothing you can do?"

"drop her," Agatha's hand reaches your shoulder and your powers kick in. Your free hand waves her away. Energy blasts her backwards and she stumbles to the ground. A lesser witch wouldn't know of Agatha's ability to drain magic but you were smarter than that. careful in your use despite the speed. control what's around her rather than directly blasting her.

"don't touch me," you growl.

"our... little girl... is all grown... up," choked out of Rio's mouth. You watch her grow a little paler. A little more starved for breath. And then you drop her. She crumbles to the floor. "and filled..." she coughs. "with... murderous rage... apparently."

"calm down," Agatha tries from her place on the floor, as she tries to get up. You use your magic to help her up. Leaving her hovering just a few feet off the ground.

"y'know, when they dragged me from bed and burned me at the stake all I could think about was you two. Surely, they didn't just leave without a word. They'll... come back and help me." you can still picture that night. The confusion. the heat. The pain. "you left me," you walk towards Agatha. "and look at you now. The great Agatha Harkness is completely powerless."

"we're sorry, okay- aren't we rio?" rio shrugs a little. With a heavy sigh, you drop Agatha to the ground. "you've come a long way bunny."

"wasn't really a choice,"

"Can we just backtrack a little," the older witch requests. Brushing herself off as she stands back up.

"immortality looks good on you," Rio teases. You hold up a middle finger.

"you're immortal?"

"for the longest time, I thought one of you cursed me with it. Some fucked up way of protecting me. But then I went looking for you. Heard all about your extra circular activities. Witch killer, hiding behind dark magic," Agatha just looks back as you turn to Rio. She knew the story. "Rio was easier to find,"

"should have stayed dead," Rio insisted, the cold metal blade dancing across the scar on your neck. "how easier that would be," you shove her away and she just chuckles. "oh how I missed this," she wonders over to were Agatha is stood.

"I'm going back to sleep," you announce. "let's just leave it at that,"

"Why did you come," Agatha asks. You wonder if it's worth the conversation. The headache of continuing to engage with them. "if you hate me so much?"

"to die," you say eventually as you head back to camp.

// NEXT

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; buckle up pookies, as this is merely part one of a multi-part fic that spans as far as the end of season three ( on the fence about season four but we will see ). as noted above, this fic will be canon adjacent, mainly focusing on the storyline as portrayed in the outer banks chapters of the 'netflix stories' mobile app. without any more of my yapping, i hope you all enjoy!

you can't help but squint once you step off the bus, your dollar store sunglasses doing very little to shield your eyes from the burning, outer banks sun. you bring your hand up in an attempt to further protect your eyes, needing to make your way to the seahorse hotel and fast.

a flash of long, blonde hair invades your vision, something you don't think twice about until the body attached to said hair knocks right into you, saturating your white tank top with her oversized cherry-coloured drink.

there's a beat of silence between both of you, behind darkened lenses your eyes bore into the girl before you. if looks could kill.

"shit! i am so sorry!" the blonde apologises, face turning as red as the newfound stain on your shirt. her hand darts out in an attempt to miraculously wipe the stain away "oh god, this is so embarrassing."

a part of you feels empathetic, it was an easy mistake to make in hindsight. another part of you wanted to push past the girl and continue getting on with your day.

"my name is sarah," she continues rambling, her hand still frequently scrubbing at the stain, making it worse "i didn't get your name, well no shit" the last part is barely a mumble, but you still catch it.

an unintentional laugh escapes you, finding amusement in her panicked awkwardness "if i tell you will you stop feeling me up?"

it was a joke, at least mostly, yet sarah froze in horror as the realisation set in. she was feeling up a stranger at the bus stop.

before she can begin rambling again, you speak up "my name is y/n." purposefully, you drop the surname. sure, sarah seemed sweet, but that didn't warrant spilling your life story at her feet.

sarah nodded in acknowledgement, taking a step out of your personal space and taking a proper look at you "touron?"

your face screws up, it feels like she just called you a name you couldn't repeat "excuse me?"

"you're a tourist, right?" sarah clarified, gesturing towards the scruffy backpack hanging from your shoulder.

"not quite," you trail off, unsure of how to broach your new arrival without dropping yourself in hot water "just, in town for a while."

"unlucky you.."

"unlucky how?"

sarah links her arm through yours, all but dragging you down the street alongside her "i'll fill you in on the way."

your protests and kidnapping allegations fell on deaf ears, only being told to stop being dramatic as she dragged you along. eventually, the dragging falls back into you willingly walking with her through pristine neighbourhoods that housed buildings like nothing you had ever seen.

you listened as sarah explained the outlandish rules that accompanied living on the island. the outer banks were essentially split in half, the kooks and the pouges, the haves and the have-nots, the sarahs and the y/ns.

when her pace eventually stalls, you have to tense your jaw to stop your mouth from falling open. you had seen some serious houses on the way here, but compared to sarahs they looked like dives.

"welcome to tanneyhill" sarah beams, but you can feel the uncertainty bubbling inside her as if she was embarrassed "come on, i'll show you my room."

you follow her through the glass doors and into the manor, eyes intently scanning the walls as you climb the staircase "you make a habit of bringing random strangers into your house?"

"do you make a habit of going home with random strangers?"

"depends if they're my type."

your quick rebuttal elicits a laugh from sarah as she pushes the door open, waving you into her room and heading straight for the closet "and what is your type?"

"you sweet on me, stranger?" you tease, your playful tone making it clear you were simply messing with her.

"with my whole heart, newbie" she laughs, the contents of her closet being dropped to the floor as she rifled through it "but our secret love affair must remain hidden as i am a taken lady"

with a dramatic gasp, you slap your hand to your chest and fall back on the bed "you wound me."

"sarah 'the heartbreaker' cameron is what they call me." as you're processing her surname, a white cropped tank is flung at you from the opposite side of the room "now, come on, boy talk"

"what if i wanna girl talk?" you question, holding the piece of fabric up to examine it "sarah 'the homophobe' cameron more like"

as she crosses the room to sit alongside you, sarah rolls her eyes "my sincerest apologies, sex talk then"

"cameron now i really think you want me." you wiggle your eyebrows at her, huffing when she hits you with a pink pillow with a sparkly 's' "hey! watch the rhinestones"

"you know, i was gonna try play matchmaker at the boneyard tonight but if you wanna be like that.."

"you just said a lot of words with very little meaning" you tut, not fully clued in on the outer banks slang.

by now you have risen to your feet, standing between the bed and the window as you changed into the clean shirt, balling up the stained one and stuffing it in your backpack.

"its a pre-storm rager on the beach, the one place kooks and pouges get along. we party as long as we can and when the storm hits, run for cover"

you're only half listening to sarah, instead your attention hones in on the head of curly brown hair down on the dock as it moves along a boat named 'my druthers'.

you barely register the figure by your side, watching just as closely as you were as the brunette is joined by three others, laughing and joking.

"that would be john b," without looking you can hear sarahs grin, mistaking your fascination for attraction.

"routledge?" your mouth opens before your brain can stop it, you knew who it was, but you needed to hear it.

"you know him?"

finally, your brain catches up and you somehow manage to pull a lie out of your ass "not personally, saw him on tv. some appeal for his dad."

sarah bellows out a soft, sad sigh, letting her thoughts be known without saying a word. there's an unspoken air of silence between you, until sarah, literally, shakes it off and stands upright again.

"wanna meet him?" the blonde offers, despite the fact its more of a demand as you're being dragged along once again.

only this time your refusal is much clearer, practically begging the girl to let you go before she managed to get you out into the yard. again sarah is misreading the situation, interpreting your panic as awkward butterflies.

your demands persist, though much quieter as you're dragged further down the dock, closer to john b and his friends.

"hello, ladies" john b's blonde friend greets with a low whistle and a cheeky grin, shamelessly checking both you and sarah out.

for a moment your anxiety vanishes, your entire nervous system sparking still but for different reasons. this might be the most beautiful boy you've ever set eyes on.

this. this was your type.

"you're new" he speaks, gesturing towards you "that's for sure, yet to be a time i've forgotten a face like that." with a wink, he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

you curse god. why couldn't you have met this guy somewhere else? why wasn't he the blonde stranger that took you home?

"you done macking on the kook?" a girls voice echos from behind him, her words and her expression dripping with disgust as she eyed you.

"i'm not a kook." you bite back, sightly too aggressive for a first impression but you couldn't help it with the look of clear disdain embedded on her face.

sarahs arm links through yours, a mumbled "easy, newbie" falling only on your ears "y/n is new in town, i brought her down here while i found out what you guys are doing on my dads boat." despite her civility there's a challenging edge in her voice.

"lest ye forget, i work here."

john b, suddenly emerging from the ships hull and hurling a snide smile in sarahs direction. you had only ever seen him on fuzzy news broadcasts, he was taller than you had anticipated, confrontational too.

though, genetics could explain that one.

"can we help you?" the girl speaks again, sending your eyes rolling as you face john b.

"can you tell your guard dog to stand down? last i checked one of us was invited here and funnily enough it wasn't her"

you hear another boy mumble an excited "cat fight!" to your new, blonde, hyperfixation as they exchange money on bets.

"seriously? i expect this shit from jj but pope? disappointing" john b tutted, sounding like a disappointed father as he got off the boat "not looking for trouble, just bringing back the diving shit, full."

menial conversation is exchanged between sarah and john b, though your attention mainly resides with the newly named jj. he was leaning back against the boat, rolling a joint without a care in the world.

you try to keep the glances to a minimum, after all you had much bigger problems to wade through right now, but you simply couldn't look away. he was the definition of magnetic.

even when he catches you looking, there isn't a morsel of awkwardness, just a knowing look of curiosity that lingered far longer than it should have.

then, he winks. he fucking winks before returning to rolling with that stupid, insanely hot grin on his face. you were far from shy, and only for the audience around you, you would've jumped on him long ago.

any reckless ideas potentially coming to fruition is spoiled when sarah, still linked with you, retreats back toward tanneyhill. with a final glance back at jj, you hold your thumb and pinky to your ear and mouth 'call me', earning yourself a wink and a crossed heart in return.

maybe this wouldn't pan out to be a total shit show after all.

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

taglist: @sp1rl @yennasaurusrex @ellen3101 @firefirevampire @directioner5life @littlegrapejuice @obxstiles @scopeiguess @newlifeforus @justsisse @zestytimbit @taygrls @charlosvibesonly @sparkleofpizza

[ceesimz]

Angel

What happens when the team finds out about your relationship? (Autistic reader x Barça Femení)

As always, the other parts of Reverie can be found here. This one gets a bit deep.

One thing you had come to learn about your new team was that they never shied away from gossip. Like most people, they did have their limits, but if it was gossip within the team, especially about any possible relationships, well… they simply couldn't be stopped.

You indulged in it of course, you're only human after all, you just hadn't prepared yourself for the moment that the topic was your love life. And it seemed that the team didn’t really take into account how you would feel about it all. 

If there was one thing that would send you into some kind of meltdown, it was people talking about you without you knowing. That was something that had plagued you as a teenager, and as ridiculous as it may seem to others, it was something that still sent you spiralling endlessly. All you wanted was to be liked and to fit in, whenever those things seemed at risk, it had you scurrying back into your shell and headfirst into a deep pit of anxiety. 

It had been a matter of weeks since you and Alexia got together, and an even shorter amount of time since you had confessed your love to each other, but living in the content bubble of privacy was everything you needed and more. A part of you loved the thrill of sneaking around, like how you both drive separately to and from training only to end up at the other's apartment afterwards, and how you both hide away in the corners of any cafés you come across. 

But the thing is, it seemed the two of you weren't quite as discreet as you thought. 

The morning it all came falling down was the same as any other day; you woke up in your bed with Alexia asleep on the other side of you, facing away as the sun shone into the room and lit up the tattoos on her back like an art display. Not long after you looked over at her did a smile appear, and you couldn’t resist shuffling up behind her and wrapping yourself around her body to nestle into her. Your alarm hadn’t gone off yet and the sun wasn’t fully up, meaning there was more than enough time to enjoy each other’s company before the day that faced you began. Mornings were your favourite, and if Alexia thought she was a morning person before you, you had come along and totally trumped her in that. The world was yours in the early hours of the day, it was peaceful and serene without the interruptions of life as the birds sang and the dew covered the grass. 

Apparently that particular morning was the calm before the storm. 

Alexia drove the pair of you to training, arriving earlier than the rest of the squad and going your separate ways once in the building, Alexia with some media commitments and you with a physio session for a slight knock picked up in the game a few days prior. Nobody else had shown up yet and they wouldn’t for some time, so the possibility that someone might pick up on something was far from your minds.

Apart from the one car parked up outside and the weirdly frequent amount of time spent together and the obvious love in each other’s eyes, there were no signs at all. Zero.

Perhaps you weren’t the only oblivious one in the relationship.

“-there is something going on, Mapi.” Jana smirked as she walked into the building alongside the older defender whilst Ingrid followed behind.

“There is nothing! Don’t ask me.” Mapi put on that classic confused look on her face and paired it with a shrug, desperately holding back a grin that she knew Ingrid would scold her for.

“Everybody can see the way Ale looks at her, and how she looks at Ale. I made a bet with Keira, please.” Jana continued, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, which it was, before turning to Mapi again with a pleading look on her face.

“Jana.” Ingrid warned lightly, more than aware of the conversations that have been had by most of the team but way too concerned with how you'd react to it all. She assumed her teammates would have more sense about doing this about you, but apparently not.

“Come on, Mapi. Just shake your head or something, someone like you can’t keep a secret. And it’ll come out eventually so why not just say it now.” Jana had her arms wrapped around Mapi’s arms, tugging every so often to persuade her. 

“María, don't. Jana, there is nothing going on. Let them be.” The Norwegian gave her final warning, quite frankly tired of the topic and annoyed with her teammates' behaviour. 

It wasn’t only how Jana was acting now, it was the fact the majority of the team had been speculating for some time already, and though she had witnessed their nosiness before, this time around she was far from happy about it. She wasn’t really one to have so much intrigue in her teammates’ lives, she believed if they wanted to talk about it then they would, so there was no use in indulging in meaningless gossip that really had no benefits for anyone apart from satisfying the curiosity of people that had no business being interested anyway. That, added onto the fact she knew you would probably have some kind of meltdown if you overheard anything, meant she was sick to death of others’ careless actions.

However, by defending you, she had only made it worse.

“Oh, so there is something going on? That’s why Mapi isn’t talking?” Jana’s face lit up and Ingrid was instantly filled with dread from head to toe. Before she could stop the younger girl, she was already darting off to her other friends to share the new information. And that’s where the situation reached its peak.

You were more than fine, living blissfully unaware throughout the morning. Alexia was at your side, training was fun and light that day, and you had woken up feeling especially good that morning. Not much could stop you. The exclusion to that was of course the whole team gossipping about not only you, but Alexia too.

“You’re such a liar! I didn’t cheat, you’re the one that dropped your cards everywhere. My eyes were already looking in that direction, it just so happened to be that that’s where your cards landed.” You argued back at Alexia, stuck in a heated debate about how you had apparently cheated at a game of cards with her family the previous night. The blonde tutted in disagreement and gave you a light shove, suppressing a smile at the laugh you responded with.

“Already at the family game nights, huh?” Patri came up alongside you and smirked as her eyebrows raised, before she was quickly tugged away by Claudia, leaving you confused.

“What did she mean by that?” You turned to Alexia to see if she had any better understanding, only to find what looked like a resigned and slightly panicked expression on her face. “Ale?”

“Nothing, cariño, she is just teasing. Forget about it.” Her arm wrapped around your shoulder briefly as she gave you a quick reassuring hug, but she pulled away too soon to make you feel at ease. 

What she wasn’t clueing you in on was the seed of worry that Patri had just planted. Like Ingrid, Alexia also knew how you would react to the team finding out about the relationship before you were ready. To make matters worse, she had no idea what she could do to prevent the secret being revealed because it seemed like the damage had already been done. Sure, she was the captain, but that title means nothing when it comes to her personal life which had already been invaded by the people she thought knew better. There was nothing left to do but watch it all come falling down before her.

Despite the odd teasing remark from Patri, you were still in a fairly great mood. The same couldn’t be said for Ingrid and Alexia who sat at your table for lunch. It wasn’t often that you stayed for lunch, and you couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate day to stay. Your two favourite people had pensive looks on their faces that stuck for the majority of lunch, putting you a little on edge throughout. 

Ultimately, though, secrets had to come to light at some point. You never planned for it to happen in the way it did. 

“Does the happy couple want to join us for dinner later?” Marta, of all people, asked with a grin as her hands landed on yours and Alexia’s shoulders as she came to stand behind you both.

“Marta!” Ingrid scolded immediately, but it was too late. 

“What? Everybody knows that Ale is wrapped around her finger. Didn’t take long, no?” She smirked down at you, taking no notice of the fact you had completely frozen.

Both Ingrid and Alexia rattled off arguments, trying their best to do damage control, though to no avail. The warning signs of an internalised meltdown were already taking over and shutting down your nervous system – the type of meltdown you knew was coming was sometimes the most exhausting type. Masking on its own took all of your energy, but masking an entire meltdown was a whole different thing. 

You weren’t safe here. There were eyes all around, people you weren’t too familiar with, and nothing in this room, in fact in the whole building, could help you regulate yourself. In only a matter of minutes, everything around you turned into a trigger.

Marta’s hand still sat on your shoulder. Your skin crawled with the sensation of at least thirty pairs of eyes on you. With each second that passed by, the noise of the cafeteria grew louder in your ears even though in reality it only quietened when people realised what was happening. 

Your hands trembled intensely under the table, you were sure Marta would be able to feel your entire body shaking, and your breathing quickened until hardly any oxygen was getting to your lungs. It was at that point where the intrusive thoughts kicked in. 

The cherry on top of the cake in this scenario too is that it wasn’t just about you, it was about Alexia too. So not only were you drowning in anxiety and fear and shame, you couldn’t cope with the guilt that came at the fact you had dragged Alexia into all this. 

Was now the time Alexia realised she could be with someone much better than you, now that the relationship was no longer secret? Now that you and all that was wrong with you wasn’t hidden behind apartment walls and cafe doors, would she be too embarrassed by you to stay? What would your teammates think? You hadn’t even been here for a full season yet, and you had already claimed their captain for yourself. 

Those were the kinds of things swirling around your mind as the world carried on around you, but they were merely a drop in the ocean and definitely not the worst of them. Some were unimaginable, to the point where if any allistic person were to ask what went through your mind during a meltdown, they would be horrified by the things they would hear. You wouldn’t wish a meltdown of any kind upon your worst enemy.

It was too much to handle. Too many eyes, too many opinions in one room, too many ways to be perceived. The only realistic option was leaving. 

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor as you abruptly stood up cut through the tension in the room, bringing everyone to a sudden silence as they watched you leave the room as quickly as possible without it being classed as running away. You had no idea where to go, but your legs were taking you anyway, and at that moment it felt like you were watching yourself in third person. You were in your body, but you weren’t present. Your mind was still back in that cafeteria, thinking and thinking over and over again, stuck in the fear of the fact you had just ruined the life you had built for yourself whilst you fully succumbed to the meltdown clawing its way into your body.

All you wanted to do was go home, to have the measly comfort of falling apart in the four walls of your flat, where you had the safety net of the fact that nobody was around to walk in on you. Instead, you had to settle for a place that still didn’t feel safe and never would. 

Somewhere in your subconscious you made the decision to find a spot away from everyone, ending up in a small, empty and unclaimed office. As always, your feet took you straight to the corner of the room furthest from the door, slumping down against the wall and sliding until you were sat on the floor. Your legs came up so that your knees were pressed tightly against your chest, further emphasised by the pressure your arms gave when they wrapped around your legs. It helped, the pressure your own embrace provided, but it was nowhere near enough to calm you down to a point where you could put a stop to everything happening inside of you.

There, in the safest environment you could find, you accepted the impending implosion, and let it wholly consume you. It wasn’t a meltdown filled with anger and frustration, the type that led to a whirlwind of destruction, but one that had your eyes flooding and overflowing with tears that would inevitably lead to a nasty migraine afterwards. But in that moment, there was no after. A meltdown came with the sense that the world was ending, that there wasn’t a life you could lead after it that wasn’t ruled by the intrusive thoughts which ruthlessly ran rampant through your mind becoming a reality. That really would be world-ending. 

For some time, you weren’t convinced you were breathing. Your lungs felt so constricted by the heaviness that weighed upon your chest that you weren’t sure you could stay conscious. There was ringing in your ears that deafened you almost, adding to how completely unaware you were of your surroundings. Nausea churned in your stomach, though you weren’t in the state of mind to be able to recognise if that was a result of the anxiety overwhelming you or the constant rocking back and forth you were doing. 

In fact, you were so oblivious, you didn’t notice the door swing open, nor did you hear the figure at the door shout down the hallway outside the room to announce you had been found. It was only when gentle hands lifted your head where it rested against your knees that you realised someone was in front of you. And who else would it be than Ingrid.

“Hey, snuppa.” The defender smiled sadly, hating how your face was completely void of emotion apart from the redness to your eyes and the tears still falling continuously down your cheeks.

It was in moments like this where Ingrid realised, no matter how much she tried, she will never fully understand the extent of the struggles you have. As she looked at you,  she saw that your face was empty, anyone who didn’t know would think you were just spaced out or something, but Ingrid knew there was a deadly storm kicking off in your mind. A storm whose weapons of choice were the tears streaming from your hauntingly blank eyes, and the sharp flashes of vicious words followed by the darkest clouds of shame and inadequacy. Nobody else would understand the pain of it, and it killed the defender that she couldn’t do a thing about that.

“I’m so sorry that happened in there. They shouldn’t have acted like that, not without coming to you first. They just… weren’t thinking.” 

Why didn’t they think about me?

“I should have made a better effort in getting them to stop talking about it.”

You knew? Why didn’t you make a better effort?

“They didn’t mean anything bad by it, it’s just them being clowns, you know what they’re like.”

What if they did mean something bad by it?

“Alexia is worried about you.”

I just want to go home.

“Home.” You whispered, shrinking back into yourself and away from the hands that were still on your cheeks. You hastily brushed away the remaining tears with shaking thumbs, though they were instantly replaced by new ones that didn’t hesitate to fall.

“I can take you home, that’s okay.” 

The person that helped you stand then, it wasn’t Ingrid. It was just a body, a face you didn’t recognise in your mid-meltdown daze. There was no longer a functioning world outside the confines of your beaten mind, your senses were completely overwhelmed to the point they no longer worked. An arm was wrapped around your waist as you were led to the car park, but all you could focus on was each step you took. Moving was difficult, so you poured all your remaining energy into making sure your legs could carry you to the car at least. 

Whether people watched you on the way to Ingrid’s car or not, you were passed the point of caring. The merciless thoughts weren’t tiring anytime soon but they had exhausted you, beating you down until you were completely mindless. They had prepared you for your team to hate you, so that was old news by the time you were being guided down the halls and no doubt past their curious stares. 

All of your belongings were left back in the changing rooms, including your phone and your change of clothes and everything else. Thankfully Ingrid was wise enough to know you didn’t care about any of those things now, all you wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and never leave again.

That’s exactly what you did. The time walked by before you as you watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on your bedside table. At some point, Ingrid had peaked her head in to check on you and Mapi had come along to drop off your things whilst an anxious Alexia waited in her car in case you wanted her.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t face her right now, probably not for the rest of the day either. It was easier to be the rejecter rather than the rejected. Too often were you the one going through all the pain that came with rejection, and experiencing it at the hands of Alexia might just end it all for you.

Figuring out where to go from here was something that would have to wait a while. Hours, days, weeks, you weren’t sure. It had been a tough day, the toughest in a while. Your last meltdown had been a destructive one – a performance that you deemed bad in a match you put way too much pressure on yourself for was enough reason to get so wildly angry, you had no choice but to act out. That was in the privacy of your own home though, not in a public setting, at work no less. The repercussions of it all were something you didn’t want to face.

So you stayed in bed. For hours, you didn’t move a muscle. The duvet covered you up to your shoulders and the scent of Alexia lingered on the fabric of the sheets, the most comforting mix of her perfume and the conditioner she used when showering the night before. And by the time the sun set, it felt like your bones had sunk into the mattress, as if you’d found yourself in quicksand or had fallen into concrete. There was no way you could make it out if you tried. 

Nothing, apart from being thousands of miles away from the situation you found yourself in, could entice you to move. 

—

“Have you heard from her yet?” Alexia asked desperately for perhaps the third time in ten minutes. 

“No, Ale.” Mapi sighed from the kitchen area. 

Ingrid and Mapi had decided to let Alexia stay with them, knowing that the older girl was probably going crazy as a result of her anxiety. The Norwegian was somewhat familiar with how these things go for you, your alone time to try and regulate was an important step of getting back to being your normal self. However, she also knew that being alone could sometimes make it worse. She was stuck in between those two possibilities, wondering when the right time to step in was. It just didn’t help when Alexia was pacing around the apartment or tapping her foot against the floor as she sat on the couch.

Mapi was making dinner for the three of them, whilst also ensuring there was an extra portion for you if you wanted to eat at any point that evening. They were all worried to some degree, but Alexia’s concern had reached new heights. Last time this happened to you, you were alone for the whole night with no one to comfort you, and that thought made her sick. All she wanted to do was see you at least, then from there she could figure out what to do to help. Yet, she was still inexperienced, so the only thing she trusted herself to do was to listen to Ingrid, the one who had been around for almost eleven years longer than she had. Her patience was wearing thin, however.

“I just want to see her, I-”

“Alexia, listen to me.” Ingrid dropped the laundry she was folding and headed over to where Alexia was. She sat down on the coffee table in front of her captain and sighed just like her girlfriend had done a moment ago. “In her mind, you’re probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

“But why! I don’t g-”

“Listen.” Ingrid said sternly, silencing the blonde. “I know you are worried, scared, whatever. We all are. But we have to put our emotions aside and wait for her. Meltdowns aren’t something that happen to you, they happen to her, so think about that for a second. She needs the time alone to regulate herself again, to allow her body to rest. It might not have looked extreme, but trust me when I say it was. Her own mind was attacking her but because she was in public, she forced it down and hid it. It’s so intense, when that happens, it’s not just a mental thing but a physical thing too. You have to remember that what she experiences is so different to anything we will ever know, so everything from this point on has to be on her terms. Okay?”

No matter what anyone said to her in that moment, Alexia knew she wouldn’t feel at all at ease until she saw you. But Ingrid’s words did help, even if it was only the tiniest bit. It settled her because most of all she trusted you. 

Once in the past, you had told her that your meltdowns were something that made you feel so out of control that you’d do anything to regain it back, to have some sense of the world again. Even if that meant extreme measures. That was the young, scared version of you though, you had told her. As an adult now, you were a lot… safer in your recovery methods. And she trusted you, she did, she just couldn’t help but feel sickeningly worried. Nobody could really blame her, it wasn’t a comforting thought to know she was in the same building as you, and yet there wasn’t a thing she could do other than wait it out.

“I… I love her though.” She knew her arguments were futile, but it felt better than sitting there and doing nothing.

“You love her?” Mapi asked in disbelief, followed by a tut from Ingrid.

“I love her. She knows that, right?” The blonde turned to the woman in front of her with a desperate look on her eyes.

“She does. She does, Alexia, and I know for a fact that she does.” Ingrid placed a hand on Alexia’s bouncing knee and squeezed it reassuringly; she understood how her captain was feeling, she’d been in her place plenty of times before. 

“I just want to take it all from her so she can feel better, so she knows I love her and I don’t blame her for today.” Alexia mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring of her training shorts that she still hadn't changed out of. 

“I know. It's hard, but these are the times where she needs us by her side the most.” Ingrid stated quietly, hoping Alexia understood the gravity of her words.

“Forever, Ingrid, I will be by her side forever. I swear it.” Her eyes had gone wide and her shoulders had lifted up into a shrug to emphasise her promise. Ingrid didn't doubt her for a second.

As much as she tried to resist, as the evening dragged on, Ingrid’s patience started to wear away. Her concern was beginning to override her adamance to give you the space she thought you needed. She could tell, as she glanced around the quiet room save for the scraping of cutlery against ceramic, that Alexia and Mapi felt the same way. 

Alexia hardly moved from her spot in the corner of the sofa, staring out of the window as her leg bounced anxiously. Mapi didn’t know what to do with herself, because even though she wouldn’t really play a major part in helping you come down from the state you were in, bar a few terrible jokes here and there, her world fell off-kilt knowing you were enduring such an awful time. You weren’t as close with her as you were with Alexia and Ingrid, obviously, but she still saw you as such an important figure in her life that nothing was the same without you. She loved your near constant joy, you were quite possibly the happiest person she’d met, and that was a big statement coming from someone like her. Your glee was infectious, and she was certain that everybody felt the same kind of unease when you weren’t yourself.

The silence throughout the apartment that settled after dinner was so discomforting that waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. Almost as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, they all hit their limit. It had been hours since anyone had seen or heard from you and waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. No one was brave enough to say it though. If they all marched up to your apartment, god only knows what reaction you would have. Nobody wanted to be the person that broke your trust. 

It was Alexia that decided to take that risk. 

“What if I went and checked on her?” She broke the silence and glanced around nervously at the other two, who then looked at each apprehensively. “If she kicks me out, I will leave. But I cannot sit here and do nothing any longer. It’s killing me.”

A few thoughtful moments passed by, before Ingrid groaned quietly and buried her face into her hands. At that, Mapi pursed her lips and answered for her.

“I think there is nothing else we can do but try.” The shorter defender answered diplomatically, nodding as she spoke. “The spare key is on Ingrid’s keys.”

“Ingrid?” Alexia asked. It was important to her that she had Ingrid’s trust as the Norwegian had dealt with this countless times over the past decade.

“Yes. Go. Please be patient with her.” She pleaded in a fearful voice. At that, the Barcelona captain jumped up from her seat and went to leave instantly. 

In the weirdest way, it was hard for Ingrid to hand over this responsibility. Other than Mapi, you were the most important person in her life. She had been the person you go to for nearly eleven years – she had seen you at your worst and recently she’d seen you at your best. But with the introduction of Alexia into your life, as overjoyed as she was for you, it came with a strange sense of loss. Rationally she knew you were going nowhere of course, and yet she mostly felt… sad. It felt a little pathetic to her, that she thought of it like that, she just couldn’t help it. Mapi sensed her girlfriend’s feelings and moved to sit by her side immediately to comfort her, meanwhile Alexia couldn’t get out of the door quick enough.

Instead of taking the elevator, Alexia ran straight to the stairs and made her way up to your floor in mere seconds. The keys rattled in her hands as she headed to your apartment, and her hands shook as she tried to find the right key to unlock your door. When she missed the keyhole a couple times, she took a deep breath to calm herself and rolled her shoulders a couple times. In that split second, she knew, had you been there, you would have laughed at the slightly dramatic scene. As odd as that may seem, that little thought calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit, and with a final breath out, she unlocked the door.

Unsurprisingly, the lights were off in the apartment and the curtains were drawn, your way of blocking the world out. There wasn’t a sound, and her footsteps bounced off the walls as she walked through the flat until she reached your bedroom door. She knocked on quietly, trying not to disturb the apparent peace.

“It is just me, Alexia. May I come in, engel?” 

Exactly as she expected, she got no response. That was better than getting kicked out, she supposed.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

She opened the door and walked in on a scene that wasn’t so unfamiliar anymore, and she figured she best get used to it anyway if she planned on sticking around. You were on your side, facing away from the door, like you were when Ingrid had been the one to check on you the last time this happened. Even as she padded over to where you lay, she got no reaction. It wasn’t until she cautiously sat on the carpet, her back against the bedside drawers with her head turned towards you, that she confirmed you weren’t asleep. 

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see you were awake and staring absentmindedly straight ahead, through her even. Last time, she didn’t see this part of you. She only saw the by-product of Ingrid’s support and love. This was something that sent chills through her, not out of fear or intimidation or whatever, but because of the overload of emotions she felt at the sight. Never in her life had she felt such pain for someone else.

“Hi, amor.” She whispered. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do, or where to start. Rather foolishly, she had underestimated the whole thing. “Um… I didn’t want to leave you on your own any longer. I wanted to come check on you.” 

Normally, with everything Alexia did in her life, she had the confidence in knowing what she was doing and exactly how she was going to do it. This situation was something entirely different. But, if she was going to learn to do better for you when things like this happened, there was nothing she would rather do in this scenario than try. 

“Ingrid told me once that sometimes just sitting with you helps with the thoughts you have, so… I will wait here as long as you want me to. I love you.” 

She didn’t want to overwhelm you, but at the same time she couldn’t bear taking her eyes off of you. Just being by your side had eased some of her anxiety. She hoped it did the same for you.

“Today was a bad day, but that’s okay. Bad days are okay. You can come back from them. I remember you telling me that when this happens, it feels like the world is ending. I know I can’t stop your meltdowns but I will always be here to remind you that I love you more than anyone else I have ever met. And that people in your life adore you so much that nothing could change that. You are just you, all the time, and that might be my favourite thing in the world.”

The midfielder found herself rambling, which wasn’t something she did very often at all, but the words flowed continuously. Whether you could hear her or were taking anything she said on board, she didn’t mind. 

Fortunately, you could hear her, and you were taking everything she said and holding onto it for dear life. With each word she spoke, you felt yourself coming back more and more. Those voices had been shut out by Alexia’s tentative rambling. The tears that you knew would drop any second were the first sign of you becoming somewhat lucid again. 

“I am not angry or upset with you. Today wasn’t your fault. Not the outing, not the teasing, not the meltdown. You were just a passenger in it all, yet you got the worst of it. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Your voice was hoarse and hardly there when you spoke, and even though it was a short single syllable you uttered, it still cracked with emotion.

Alexia almost flinched at that, having not expected it at all.

“Hm?” She hummed, shuffling a little closer to the bed if that was at all possible.

“No sorrys.” You murmured. Alexia frowned, and she itched to reach out and stroke through your hair or cup your cheek or do anything to comfort you.

“Okay.” She nodded, unsure of what else to do. To scratch that itch from a moment ago, she brought her legs up and crossed her arms over her knees, a few fingertips of one hand outstretched to rest on the edge of the bed. “I… I don’t want you to feel guilty. I think, in the end, maybe it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about us. They shouldn’t have acted so nonchalantly about it, but I also don’t think we hid it too well.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You completely ignored what she had said, too focused on your shame instead. Shame that stemmed from the events back at the cafeteria, at not only having a meltdown which brought those feelings on anyway, but having one in front of your whole club. This one felt so much more complex than any others you’d had in a while.

Alexia’s resolve broke then – one of her hands cautiously reached under the duvet to find the hand of yours that wasn’t resting underneath your head. She found it, balled up tightly against your chest, and with both of her hands now, she unclenched it and covered it, gently bringing it to her mouth so she could press repetitive, soft kisses against your skin.

“I don't have to but I want to. I need to, for myself, because you are my girlfriend and I need to make sure you are okay. I love you no matter how you feel, and even if me being here doesn't make you feel much better, I'm just glad I’m here.”

Something about that struck a nerve. Before you knew it, those brewing tears made themselves known as they fell steadily. Alexia dropped your hand, which caused a brief moment of panic for you, until she rose to her knees and her hands landed delicately on your face instead. Her lips brushed against every tear that fell, kissing each one before leaning her forehead against yours.

“I love you. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.” She whispered, because some part of her knew that it was her portrayal of her adoration that had finally cracked you. 

It was exactly that. No matter how many times it was said, there was just some embedded insecurity within you that couldn’t accept it when you didn’t love yourself like this. Perhaps it would stay with you for life, but that didn’t seem so horrifying if Alexia reacted like this everytime the worst part of yourself was so clearly on show.

“You do make me feel better.” You manage to choke out in the midst of your sobs. 

Alexia couldn’t bear the feeling of not having you in her arms whilst you were crying so heavily, so she moved away only for a second before you felt the bed dip behind you. Then, she was gently urging you to roll over, which you did immediately. Her arms engulfed you entirely, and the pressure from her hug was so much more comforting than that of yours earlier in that heartless office. 

She let you get it all out, even if it did take a while, but even when your sobs had subsided, she didn’t move a muscle. For that, you were grateful. Being wrapped up and held tightly by her, your face buried in her chest, was so much better than laying on your own with nothing but the intrusions in your mind.

And when your thoughts cleared, you gained an ounce of clarity again. Neither of you spoke, but there had been enough emotions in the day that there wasn’t any need for them. There was just one thing that you had realised, the brightest silver lining: Alexia loved you. Truly and wholeheartedly, even if you didn’t understand it. Sure, she had said it in the past and shown it in various ways, though none of those occasions could ever live up to this one.

This one was her accepting the worst part of yourself. This was her sticking by you when you knew it was the hardest time to stay. This was it.

Having your relationship exposed might have seemed like the end of the world at the time, and though that thought hadn’t completely left yet, it had given way for two much better realistions. Firstly, Alexia loved you. And secondly, apparently you can’t mask love.

“It really was quite obvious, wasn’t it?” You would grimace the next morning when the pair of you ate breakfast in bed together. Your girlfriend, the woman that loved you, turned to you with an equally pinched face and you stared at each other for a few moments, until you broke out into laughter about it all.

That was the thing with Alexia – she made it all brighter and so, so much easier.

—

because what else do autistic people struggle with than the opinions of others 🫠 writing about a meltdown is hardddd so this took a lot for me to write, it's more than just writing anxiety when it comes to posting this one. it's depicting the part of myself i hate most. it's an unexplainable, awful awful experience but anyway i hope my words did it justice, i'm not sure about it but i hope you liked the story regardless 🫶🏼🧡

[imtryingbuck]

Welcome To The Gang

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: mechanic!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n leaves her hometown after her heart is broken by betrayal, she has no destination in sight but when she meets a brunette she finally finds happiness.

Word count: 5,853

Warnings: angst. past cheating (ex and sister). swearing. fluff.

Masterlist

“Mom what am I going to do?”

“You need to tell her, it will break her heart but she needs to know.”

Y/n stood behind the living room wall pressing her hand to her mouth in hopes her mom and sister couldn’t hear her muffled sobs. She had just heard that her boyfriend of five years had been cheating on her with her very own sister for the past four months. Betrayed by the two people who she loved more than anything in the world other than her parents.

“She won’t want to talk to me anymore” She felt sick to her stomach at hearing her sisters voice laced in distress. Not once since she confessed has she once said she regretted it or that it meant nothing, no it was all about her.

“Do you blame her? You’ve been fucking her boyfriend.”

“I know mom!”

“And now you’re pregnant by your sisters boyfriend, don’t you dare try and act like a victim.”

Her heart broke even more. Her sister knew full well that they had been trying to get pregnant for the past two years and yet here she is, pregnant with her own sisters boyfriends baby. Before her sister could speak Y/n stepped around the wall, both mom and daughter gasping at seeing her, seeing the tears they knew she had heard everything.

“Why? Why would you do this to me? Doing it to your best friend wasn’t enough?”

“Y/n!” her mom scolded. “You know that she regretted doing that.”

“But it didn’t stop her from sleeping with her best friends husband when she was grieving her mom’s death, did it now? Oh and then carried on once her best friend found out and divorced his sorry arse.” Looking at her older sister, the one person she looked up to since they were children. “Can’t you find your own boyfriend that you have to fuck everyone else’s?”

“I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t be mad”

“You two deserve each other. I hope you both have the worst life-“

“Y/n please don’t talk to your sister like that!”

“Sister?” she let out a low chuckle with a shake of her head. “I have no sister.”

Walking out of her parents’ house, the very same one she grew up in, she got in her car ignoring her mom and sister begging her to stay and that everything will be okay, and drove back to her apartment that she shared with her now ex-boyfriend. Thankfully he wasn’t there which meant leaving with her things would be easier. Not an hour later her car was packed full with her things, with one last look at the place she had been calling home for three years a stray tear dropped from her eyes, a shudder rolled down her spine at the thought of her own sister and her now ex fucking each other in the apartment. Closing the door she locked it and slid the key through the letter box and got into her car, with no destination in sight she drove away.

“No no no NO! God damnit!” Smacking the steering wheel harshly then wincing at the pain shooting through her hands, she managed to get the car to pull up to the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere. “Great. Just great.”

Stranded in the middle of nowhere, no signs of life other than a few birds flying around in the air, she began crying. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to go like. It was meant to be her carrying her boyfriends’ child, not her sister. She was meant to be at home probably curled up on the couch with her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend watching some crappy show on the tv. But no, she’s currently in the middle of nowhere with a broken down car and no cell service whilst her sister is probably curled up on the couch with the cheating scumbag she happily opened her legs for.

It wasn’t fair.

An hour passed and not even a single car went pass. Then another hour went by, this time she kept her mind occupied by kicking the crap out of her car. The next hour that slowly trickled by Y/n walked around her car over and over again, then across the street and back again, even having a race with a snail in which she won against. Finding a stone she practiced her football skills, then she lost the stone. And then she began kicking her car again but this time imagining her sister and boyfriends faces - her car now sporting a huge dent.

The sun began going down being quickly replaced by the crescent moon, climbing on top of her car with her legs dangling against the door she laid back staring up at the sky. It couldn’t have been long when she heard a noise that she had never been more grateful to hear.

“Yes! Oh thank fuck!” she waved her arms in the air in hopes that the driver would stop and not ignore her, whilst also hoping that the driver wasn’t some crazed maniac.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” jumping off the car she went up to the truck as it pulled to a stop. “Hi, c-can you help me?”

“Of course we can help. My names Wanda and this is Vis, what’s yours?”

“Thank you, I’m Y/n. My car broke down and I have no cell service.”

“Oh, well we can actually help you with that” Wanda got out of the truck whilst Vis pulled the truck in front of her car. “He works at the garage not that far from here.”

“Really? You two are life savers”

“Yeah it’s half an hour away… wait, how long have you been out here for?”

“Half an hour?” Wanda nodded with a soft smile on her plumb lips. “Oh my God.” Y/n cried out. “I’ve been out here for like four hours!” Wanda’s eyes went wide, her lips pressing together tightly in a straight line. “You can laugh.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh along with the green eyed woman, she felt so stupid for not thinking about wondering off to find help instead of staying by her car. “You’re not from around here are you?”

“Leave me alone” she giggled.

“I’m sorry!”

“Is that why you are laughing?”

“… No”

Vis informs the two women that everything was set up and ready to go, in the truck with two strangers that seemed really nice Wanda asked her about herself which she answered carefully and selectively, Wanda told her that she and Vis were married and then told her about the people she would most likely meet at the garage. Vis chimed in telling her that one of them called Bucky would most likely be standoffish with her but it was just who he was.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, his middle name is Buchanan so he goes by Bucky.” Wanda informs.

Not even half an hour later they pulled up to the garage named The Avengers Garage. Wanda and Y/n got out so that Vis could pull the truck and car inside. “Come on, let me introduce you to the gang.”

Gaining the attention of the people that was sat/stood around, the first person to greet her was a beautiful red head named Natasha, then a very happy Sam introduced himself – going straight in for a hug. Then Clint – Wanda informed her that he and Nat were dating, then she was introduced to Steve. Everyone was so nice and warm to her, they were probably like that to everyone but that didn’t matter to her.

“This car is completely fucked.” She heard a deep yet soft voice come from behind her car. “Steve I’m going… h-hi.” He started then cut himself off when he laid eyes on her.

“Hi” she smiled at the gorgeous man in front of her.

The group all watched silently with amused looks on their faces as they watch Bucky standing there with a tint of red hue on his cheeks, a sweet smile on his lips and this woman that they had only just met doing the same thing.

“Bucky this is Y/n, Y/n this is Bucky” Wanda’s soft voice snapped them both out of their trances.

“Hi” they both repeated, the groups eyes rolling in unison.

“So Buck, what’s wrong with the car?” Steve then asked snapping them both out of their love sickening eye contact again.

Bucky's eyes find Steve’s and begins explaining the problems with the car, to Y/n it sounded like he was talking mumbo jumbo – having never paid any attention to what her dad would tell her when he tried showing her the ins and outs of a car. “And there’s a big dent in the side”

“Yeah… about that, uhm… that was me, I kind of kicked the damn thing.”

“Why?” Bucky chuckled. Everyone beside Y/n looking shocked at hearing the sound coming from him. It had been so long since any of them had heard anything other than a grumble fall from his lips.

“I was angry.” She shrugged with a small smile.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled once again. “I’ll be able to get the dents out.”

“H-How much would it all come to?” When Bucky tells her the amount he noticed the grimace flash across her face, asking him about the price without the dents being taken out – hating the way she stutters, and the way her cheeks heated up with embarrassment. “C-Can you just leave the dents? I’ll get it fixed at a later date”

“Of course” Bucky smiles in understanding. “It will take about two days to fix”

“O-Oh okay, thank you.”

Steve rolls his eyes at once again the love struck look in Bucky’s eyes, clapping his best friends shoulder motioning towards her car Bucky smiles once more at Y/n before following Steve. Once it was just Wanda and Y/n after Nat and Clint left to go and get some food and Vis doing something in the back Y/n asked Wanda where the nearest motel was.

“It’s not that far from here, it’s a bit rundown though.”

“That’s fine, I need a place to sleep until my car is fixed and then I can be on my way again.”

“I can take you there if you want?”

“I would really like that, thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem. I’m just going to get the keys from Vis.” Leaving her on her own, Y/n went to her car to get a few things from the back, apologising to the two men as she interrupted their conversation.

Thanking Wanda once again for everything that she had done for her, she walked up to the room that she had paid for. It was small and had a weird odour lingering in the air but it didn’t bother her, much. Climbing into the uncomfortable bed after changing into something comfy and doing her night routine, she fell asleep with the image of a certain brunette with piercing blue eyes.

Bucky just wanted to go home to Alpine – his precious white ball of fluff that he had found abounded on the side of the road when she was only six weeks old. He’d probably order some pizza and sit to watch some crappy show on the tv whilst having his little baby curled up next to him eating her treats. But no here he was still at work being told a new car was just brought in.

It wasn’t fair.

“This car is completely fucked.” He mumbled. “Steve I’m going… h-hi.” He started but finding himself cutting his words off when he laid eyes on her.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hi” her smile was just as gorgeous as the rest of her face and her voice.

He knew that the group was all watching as his cheeks heated up, and he knew for a fact that they were going to tease him later for it.

“Bucky this is Y/n, Y/n this is Bucky” Wanda’s voice snapped them both out of their trances.

“Hi” they both repeated, the groups eyes rolling in unison.

“So Buck, what’s wrong with the car?” Steve asked him making him reluctantly pull his eyes away from her.

He couldn’t help the chuckle leave his lips when she explained that the huge dents in the side of her car was due to her kicking it, god he loved her smile. He didn’t judge her for wanting the dents to be left in, seeing all the things in the car it looked to him like she had just upped and left wherever it was she came from, and he understood that money was probably tight, hell they had all been in that position before so therefore none of them was going to judge her.

The second Steve got him away from Y/n he just stood there and smirked. “What?”

“Nothing. Okay well there is something.”

“And that is?”

“’Hi I’m Bucky and I’m so in love with you Y/n, please marry me and have my babies’” Steve mocked before letting out a surprised yelp and ducking just in time as the tool that Bucky throws at him, hit him.

“You’re not funny.”

“What do you mean? I’m hilarious.” The dirt blond gasped dramatically. “What was all that back there?”

“What do you mean? I was just being polite to a customer”

“That’s the thing Buck, you’re never polite to customers.”

“Yes I am!”

“Liar. Okay, can I ask you another question?”

“You’re going to ask anyway”

“When is the wedding?” Steve chuckled then let out a pained groan as Bucky throws something at him, hitting him in his stomach. “You can’t keep throwing things at me!”

“I can if you keep being a dick. Now shut up and help me.”

“I thought she said to leave the dents?”

“I know but I can’t just leave them.” Bucky shrugs. “And don’t say anything!”

Both worked tirelessly until it got too late and fatigue and hunger started to set in. Since Steve lived across the road from Bucky they always drove to work together, Steve pulled up to his drive, saying his goodbyes to his best friend – not before he tormented him about his new girlfriend Y/n.

“She is not my girlfriend!” the brunette practically growled as he stomped over to his house. Instantly being greeted by Alpine, Bucky stood there imagining Y/n sitting on his couch in his shirt with a smile on her face, opening her arms for him to crawl into and complain about his day, running her fingers through his hair-

Alpine’s meow snapped him out of his thoughts, shaking his head. “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Please be Y/n’s room” Y/n heard a soft voice come from behind her door, just before a knock came.

“Hi Wanda” she smiled at the woman as she opened the door.

“Oh thank god! I’ve been knocking on all the doors to find your room”

Chuckling, she offered for her to come inside. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

“I’m good. How come you’re here? Is my car fixed already?”

“Well I came to see if you wanted to hang out? I could show you around town? And for your car, it isn’t done yet but I know Bucky's been working on it since seven this morning”

Seeing the hopeful look in her eyes, Y/n couldn’t find it in herself to say no so with a smile and a nod she grabbed her jacket and put her shoes on, making sure she grabbed her bag she locked the door and slid the key into her pocket. Wanda linked her arm with hers as they made their way down to Wanda’s car.

The town was small and it seemed like everyone knew everyone and knew that Y/n wasn’t from around there, they made it obvious by staring at her. Wanda showed her all the places her and the gang – as she kept calling them – had grown up, hung out and even showed her the alleyways that Steve use to get beat up in.

“Steve? The blond one, right?”

“Yep, he wasn’t always that big and muscly, Bucky would always find him and fight the bullies.”

Then Wanda showed her their former principles house that they covered in toilet roll. “Why would you do that?” Y/n chuckled.

“Sam dared Steve to do it, Steve passed the dare on to Clint who passed it to Nat who then passed it on to Bucky, and Bucky passed said dare back to Sam. Anyway, we all then agreed to do it so… we did”

“A dare?”

“Yeah, but to be fair we were drunk.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah it was only last year that we did it.” Wanda says. Y/n sat in the passenger seat looking at the woman waiting for her to say that she was joking. “I’m not joking either, we didn’t exactly grow up after leaving school.”

Half an hour later Wanda pulled up to a cute café that was on Main Street, promising her that they did the best hot chocolate in the world. Which she wasn’t wrong about.

“So” Wanda started, leaving the whipped cream moustache she was now sporting. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry?”

“Your car was packed full of things so I assume you’re going somewhere?”

“Oh, oh I uhm… I left my hometown. And now I’m trying to find somewhere else to call home”

“How come?”

“M-My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend cheated on me”

“The bastard! I hate him!”

“You don’t know him” Y/n laughed.

“I know I don’t but I hate him for hurting you like that, do you know who the bitch was? I’ll fight her if you want me too?”

Shaking her head. “It was with my sister, and no I don’t want you to fight her.”

“Your sister? Like half-sister?” Y/n shakes her head. “No? Step?” another head shake. “Jesus Y/n! That bitch! I hate her too!”

“She’s also pregnant with his baby” she smiled sadly at Wanda.

“Oh Y/n I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay I guess, it just hurts you know? I always wanted to have children with him but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“The way I see it is that she did you a favour, I know it hurts. My ex cheated on me but honestly it was the biggest blessing because Vis then gained the courage to tell me he was in love with me.”

“And you’ve been together ever since?”

“Yeah” Wanda smiled at her. “We dated for like six months before he proposed to me and then we got married on our one year anniversary, everyone kept telling us that we were mad and marrying to soon, aside from the gang they were the only ones who were supportive, but anyway here we are, four years into marriage and happier than ever.”

“I love that.” Wanda smiled, taking a gulp of her drink as they both settled into comfortable silence.

That was until a brilliant idea came to Wanda’s head. “Fuck Y/n! You should move here! The house down the street from mine is for sale, and it’s nice, me and Vis had a look around just because we wanted to see how different their house was to ours but anyway it’s for sale and it’s cute and most importantly it’s only down the road from me” she rambled with a huge smile on her face.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t exactly have a lot of money and with my car, you know?”

“I know someone is looking for a receptionist, I can get you a job there?”

“Who?”

“Me! I own a tattoo shop with Nat, and it’s just us two and Clint that works there and we really need a receptionist to take calls and all that shit”

“You’re really offering a stranger a job?”

“Well yeah, if you think about it every person I would have to interview is a stranger…”

“You got me there.”

“Do you know how to answer a phone?”

“Of course I do”

“Do you know how to use a pen? And how to write?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“Well congratulations Y/n, you’ve got the job” Wanda beamed before she asked Mary for two more hot chocolates.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not”

“As serious as a heart attack. When can you start?”

“Wanda, dead serious?”

“Dead, dead, dead serious! So when can you?”

“Straight away! Thank you Wanda, thank you”

“We’re friends so you don’t need to thank me. Now we just need to think of a place for you to live.”

“I can just stay in the motel until I’ve saved enough money” she shrugs.

“Leave it with me, I’ll think of something better.”

After discussing more about what the job will entail and her wages Wanda dragged Y/n out of the café, she explained that Nat’s sister was the owner so therefore they never had to pay for their things. Dropping Y/n off at the motel with the promise that she would come back later, Wanda headed straight for the garage.

Bucky was in the backroom looking for the part he needed to fix Y/n’s car when he heard Wanda loudly ask where he was, grabbing what he needed he went out to where Wanda was. “What’s up?”

“You said you wanted a roommate, right?”

“That was ages ago?”

“Yeah and? Do you still want one or not?”

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it, just as long as they don’t hurt Alpine, why?”

Wanda grabs a hold of Sam’s arm and began jumping up and down, with a huge smile on her face. “I think I’ve found you a roommate!”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Y/n” Bucky’s face dropped. “I’ve given her a job at the shop and now I’m trying to find her a place to live and not her staying at that crappy motel like she wants.”

“I-no. Thanks Wanda but no”

“Why not?” she frowned.

“Because he’s in love with her” Steve laughed as he spun in circles on his chair.

“No I’m not!”

“She’s single.”

“Is she?” Steve and Sam burst out laughing at hearing the excited tone of his words. “She can’t live with me Wands, I don’t know her.”

“Her name is Y/n, she’s single, she’s really nice, what more do you want to know about her?”

“Oh wow, it’s like I’ve known her my whole entire life!”

“Exactly!”

“Wands, he’s being sarcastic.” Sam informed her, Steve nodding to confirm it. She had never really been able to pick up on sarcasm.

“Oh… right well I guess I have to find her somewhere else. Bye guys.”

Bucky instantly felt bad for his best friend, hating the way her whole behaviour changed along with her voice, handing over the items over to Steve he ran after Wanda. “I’m sorry Wands, I know you’re trying to help her and I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.”

“It’s okay. It’s just- I don’t know I just want to help her and she seems so nice and she’s been hurt and I don’t like that.”

“Who hurt her?”

“It’s not my place to say Buck”

“I understand. Hey why don’t you take me to her and I can ask her if she wants to move in with me?”

“Yes! I promise Bucky she won’t murder you in your sleep. Well… I hope she doesn’t.” Bucky chuckles at her words, getting into the car with her, she takes off.

Standing outside Y/n’s motel door they both looked at each other worriedly as they heard Y/n arguing with someone, who they assumed was on the phone as they couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice. Bucky gave her a questioning look when they heard her say about her own sister betraying her, he soon understood what she meant when Y/n shouted what she had told Wanda earlier that day.

“I’ve already told you mom that I don’t want anything to do with her, or that child. And as for her wanting my blessing to date him she didn’t ask me if she could fuck him when she was- no I don’t care- she isn’t my sister- they both can rot in hell for all I care, no, no you don’t get to interrupt me anymore, you want to stand by her then do it but don’t expect me to come back and ever forgive her. I’m done.” They flinch when they hear a bang against the door, Wanda instantly knocking on the door.

“Y/n, it’s Wanda!”

Hearing the locks unlock Wanda rushed straight in with Bucky following his brunette best friend who had the heart of gold, watching as she wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shaking form. He noticed a phone on the floor, the screen lighting up with ‘Mom’ on the call screen, he also noticed her phone screen cracked.

“I’m okay. I just got angry.”

“What happened?”

“My mom rang, she wants my blessing to date him.” She scoffs, leaning into Wanda’s hand as she wipes the fallen tears. “Oh, hi Bucky.”

“Hi.” Looking around the small room Bucky picks up her phone and declines the call from her mom, again. “Come on, lets’ get you packed up.”

“What?”

“Wait, do you like cats? She’s a complete softy.”

“I-I do, but what is happening?”

“Wanda said you need a place to live, I’ve got a house with two spare bedrooms so… you can live with me.”

“I feel like you two are pranking me.”

“Nope, come on.”

Not even ten minutes later was he sitting back in the car but this time with Y/n sitting in the back, and then twenty minutes later Wanda was pulling up outside his home. Alpine ran straight for Bucky, and then Wanda before sniffing Y/n’s leg, a happy purr was heard from the ball of fluff. As the women were distracted by his precious baby, he was looking around making sure his house was clean, thankfully the only mess around was Alpine’s toys laying around. Giving her a tour of the house, he showed her the room she would be taking, Bucky told them he needed to go back to work.

“Oh Y/n, welcome home.” He smiled warmly at her.

It had been six months to the day since Wanda and Vis found Y/n on the side of the road, she had become great friends with the gang - all welcoming her with open arms. Working at the tattoo shop that Nat and Wanda owned had been great fun, Nat had even showed her how to tattoo… which wasn’t so fun. The two women comforted her when she was tagged in an instagram post that her sister had put up announcing she was having a girl, both of them even commenting on the post – Nat’s comment was ‘really classy having a baby with your own sisters ex’, Wanda’s was ‘imagine sleeping with your own sisters boyfriend and getting knocked up by him and then tagging her in this photo.’ Both comments got way more likes then the actual post did. Her mom rang her telling her to tell them to delete the comments, Y/n laughed and put the phone down on her and finally blocked her parents, sister and ex’s numbers.

At first she thought she was overstepping by living with him but he kept waving her worries off. “I like having someone else to talk to.” He told her once. There was a few awkward moments they both shared since living together such as walking in on each other in the shower, or bath, or the time that Bucky had a woman over and the woman walked into Y/n’s room thinking it was the bathroom, the woman instantly hurling insults at the brunette accusing him of cheating, by the time either one of them got a chance to speak the woman was already on her way out of the house.

“I’m so sorry Bucky.”

“Why? I’ve never seen a woman move so fast before.” He burst out laughing, prompting her to join in.

But overall it had been great, the two learnt so much about the other, whenever they had a bad day at work the other would lend a sympathetic ear, they had grown close which terrified the both of them due to having been hurt in the past. She had found out that his ex-girlfriend had cheated on him after he had his accident which left him with his arm being amputated, he had only told her about this after she saw the scars he tried so hard to keep hidden from her.

“Are you coming tonight?” Bucky asked her as he came into the kitchen.

“Wanda’s asked me to and Nat said if I don’t she’ll beat me up.”

“Well you can’t come.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because only cool people are invited.”

“So why are you going?”

Gasping dramatically he squinted his eyes at her, he grabs his phone off the side. A few seconds later her phone pings.

Bucky: u r so rude.

“Really? Why did you just text me?”

Bucky: cus I’m no longer talking to u.

“Well technically you’re still talking to me.”

Bucky: from now on I’m not talking to u.

“You are so dramatic, isn’t he Alp, yes he is” she cooed at the fluff ball as she jumped onto Y/n’s lap.

Bucky: don’t bring our daughter into this!

Bucky: my daughter.

Bucky: don’t look at me like that!

Bucky: I meant MY daughter!

“But that isn’t what you said Jamie. It looks like OUR daughter loves me.” She taunted him, giggling at his death stare.

Bucky: fine.

Bucky: you gave birth to a cat.

“She got her hairiness from you.”

“No she didn’t!”

“I thought you wasn’t going to speak to me?”

“I- shut up and go and get dressed.” She let out loud laugh at his failed attempts at defending himself, even as she made her way to her room she couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky didn’t care that he had a huge smile on his face at hearing his favourite sound.

Bucky drove the two of them to the garage, it was relatively quiet aside from the radio quietly playing 80’s rock in the background. He couldn’t help but take small glances at her from the corner of his eye, her perfume was intoxicating as the smell filled his truck and his nostrils.

Tonight the gang was having a BBQ at the garage for some reason unknown to Y/n, she did ask Bucky why it wasn’t being held at one of their houses but he just shrugged his shoulders. Wanda instantly pulling her into a hug and handing her a nice cold beer. “How are you?”

“I’m good, though Bucky no longer speaks to me.”

“What! Why?”

“Because our daughter loves me more.”

“Wait… what?”

“She’s my daughter!” Bucky shouts from the boot of the car.

“Nope, you said ours so therefore I’m her mother.” Wanda watches the scene with a confused yet amused expression on her face.

Before long their bellies were warm, their laughter filling the air as they retold stories of their childhood, Bucky’s arm was wrapped around Y/n’s shoulder as her hand was on his thigh – if anyone saw them they would think they are a couple, especially with the way Bucky stared at her when her attention was elsewhere. She didn’t see them all share a look between them all, because when Bucky stood she nearly fell.

“The time is nigh, let us begin the ceremony.” Wanda says in an ominous voice. The hair on the back of Y/n’s neck stand up.

“Please stand Y/n L/n.” Steve then spoke.

Staring wide eyed with a hint of fear and panic behind them, she stood up on wobbly legs. “W-What’s going on?”

“You’ll find out in due time.” Bucky said from the side of her.

Wanda told Bucky and Steve to take her hands and to follow her. They led her further away from the garage and towards an old railway track that hadn’t been used in nearly fifty years, as Wanda had told her before, the panic began to rise more and more with each passing step. Her new friends were crazy and are going to murder her.

“We are gathered here on a dark night.” Nat started.

“We have an offer.” Sam went next.

Bucky and Steve let go of her hands and stood by the rest, once Wanda said ‘now’ they got down on their knees. “Will you be our friend?” Steve asked.

“Join our gang.” Wanda spoke.

“Be one of us.” Bucky smiled.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I thought you was going to kill me!” she shouted.

“No? Why would we kill you?” Bucky asked puzzled by her words.

“You all act weird and take me to an old railway track, I mean come on!”

“Oh yeah… it does seem a bit murdery feely.”

“Exactly!”

“Okay, not to get off topic, Y/n what do you say? Be an official member of our gang?” Wanda questions. “My knees are starting to hurt.”

“Do I get a cool jacket?”

“No but you do get a cool bracelet that we’ve made.”

Mulling the offer over, Y/n smiled and nodded. “Yes I’ll join your gang even though I thought you was going to kill me.”

Bucky had the honour of putting on the bracelet on her wrist, it was the exact same one that all of them wore on their own wrists. “Welcome to our crazy family.” He whispered.

Each of them hugging her before going back to the garage to carry on drinking. Y/n was about to follow until Bucky’s hand slipped into hers and tugged making her stop. He watched as the others got further away from them.

“Bucky?”

“I- I just want a few minutes alone, j-just the two of us.”

“Oh okay.” She noticed that he was still holding her hand, she was glad because she loved the warmth radiating off him.

“I really like you Y/n.” Bucky speaks after a few minutes of silence.

“I really like you too.”

“No, not like that. I mean... I mean I love you, I’m so fucking in love with you it’s crazy, you’re all I think about with your perfect smile and perfect laugh, man I really love your laugh! And you’re so perfect and honestly it drives me insane because you’re everything-“

Y/n cuts him off by pressing her lips to his.

“I love you-“

Bucky cuts her off by grabbing the back of her head, bringing her closer to him so he can carry on kissing her.

By the time they get back to the rest of them both of their lips were swollen and their cheeks were tinted red. Bucky sits in the seat and instantly pulls her on to his lap, both of them ignoring the cheering coming from their friends.

“It was about time you asked her out!” Steve cheered.

“Oh… shit yeah, Y/n will you be my girlfriend?”

They all burst out laughing a she nods. “Yes I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Walking the Road for Her

Wanda Maximoff x Gray Witch!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You can't live without Wanda and you've tried everything else so when Agatha comes knocking on your door you accept immediately, but the teen that's with her...he seems so familiar

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF AGATHA ALL ALONG! Grief/Loss, hallucinations, death/mortality, emotional distress, supernatural elements, implied self-sacrifice, character death, reunion with a deceased loved one

Authors notes: Thank you @scarlethexelove for indulging in my random Wanda thoughts.

When Agatha asked for you to walk the witches road, you didn't hesitate. She was put off by your eagerness, but never told her why you were walking. You kept that part to yourself she didn't seem to mind. Everyone had a reason, and everyone had their secrets, so no one asked, and you weren't about to tell them you wanted, no needed Wanda back.

You would give up anything and everything to have Wanda back. If it meant to team up with Agatha, you would do it.

So you did. You met up with her and put on the cheery smile she hated. You always assumed she hated you for being a younger witch still full of life, but since Wanda died, you felt like you died too. You got along well enough with the others. You knew Jen the best being closer in age, though you didn't care for her products.

The teen seemed eerily familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Why does he remind you of Wanda of a life you can't seem to remember.

You're overly protective of him. You don't let him have the wine, and when you hallucinate from said wine, you blink, and suddenly, you're looking at Wanda. Back in her early twenties with the eyeliner, ripped stockings, painted nails, and rings on every finger. You cry over it, cupping her face until it turns back to his.

“Are you okay.” He looks at you with concern. You pull away quickly and wipe your eyes.

“S-Sorry.” You quickly run the ingredients back, trying to escape the feelings. You need to stay strong. You need to get Wanda back.

You end up getting through the trail. Not without its costs. Losing Sharon wasn't something you had in mind, but the witches road is treacherous and has no place for mortals. You never should have let Agatha do that, but hindsight and all that. You knew you had to press on and on the road Teen asks,

“Are you sure you're okay? You and Sharon called out for the same person.” You swallow hard.

“Yeah I'm fine. We all had hallucinations about things. I'll be okay.” You tell him and then mumble under your breath, “Not like I don't deal with it every morning...” his head swivels.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”

The further you journey, the harder it gets. Sometimes, you want to give up, to give in, and join Wanda another way. But something stops you every time. You almost think you can feel her, feel her all around you. In the trees, the air, the leaves beneath your feet. With a quick turn of your head, you think you so the soft auburn color you miss so much. The road is playing tricks yet keeping you grounded to your goals.

You make it to the end. Finally passed the last trial everyone who had made it. Their prize awaited them. You waited, didn't see her, and then you heard a whisper in Sokovian.

Your name.

You looked around everywhere. “Over here milaya.” You hear her call. You whip around and see her. She doesn't look like the Scarlet Witch anymore. Back before that. Like when you were on the run. You run into her arms without a second thought.

You can't help as you cry. Burying your face in her neck as your body shakes with sobs. Her vanilla scent invades your senses. “Shhhh sweet girl, I've got you.” Wanda holds you close. Your heart feels whole again now that you're back in her arms.

Your sobs turn into sniffles. “I've missed you so much.” You mumble against her. Her nails lightly scratching at your back. Something she's always done to sooth you. Kissing the side of your head and letting her lips linger.

“I know Detka. I'm so sorry. I'm here now. I'll never leave you again.”

You held onto Wanda tight, afraid to let go as if she'd disappear again if you stopped.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking past your shoulder her eyes widened in surprise and then softened as she saw him.

“Bi-Billy?” Wanda's voice shakes slightly. You pull back but not fully letting her go. You follow her gaze that lands on the teen. Your brows furrow before you look back to Wanda.

“Wanda?” You question her.

She lets go of you when Teen responds to the name. He tries to say something, but the sigil protects him. A wave of Wanda's hand changes that. “Billy?” She asks again.

“Yes, that's me.” You're really confused as you see Wanda's red tendrils come out sending red waves through his eyes before disappearing. “M-mom? H-how did you...?”

Billy runs towards Wanda, slamming into her, but she doesn't budge. She holds him tightly in her arms. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't know my own son?” Wanda whispers. It's just loud enough for you to hear. Confusion morphs into realization as you look on.

The reason he looked so familiar, the reason he reminded you of her. Of course, it was one of the twins. Sure you hadn't been a part of the hex, but you had seen the recordings of it. Last you had seen the twins, they were 10 inside the hex.

Your heartbeat quickens when you remember what you had seen next as the hex fell the you Wanda had created was destroyed along with the twins. She had held you tightly until you were no more.

It's a shock to see him in the flesh. To understand who he really is. He pulls away from Wanda and turns to you. “Mama?” He's cautious having been giving the memory from Wanda and realizing that you had never got to meet him. Do you even know who he is? Will you accept him as your own?

Your breath catches. It's like waves of memories flood through you as if they had always been there. Everything from the hex coming to life as tears fill your vision and spill over. “Oh my sweet little boy...look at you!” Your arms wrap around him tightly. It had been there, blurry when you thought about it. Of this being your son. “Mama is sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Mama don't apologize. I'm happy to have you back.” He pulls away slightly keeping an arm around you and opening his other for Wanda. She joins into the hug.

“I'm happy to have both of you back.” You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

You hug them both tightly. This still left you without one son, but you knew you'd find him. If Billy made it out somehow, then Tommy must be out there, too.

Wanda cups both of your cheeks and looks between you. “Moya lyubov i moy syn (my love and my son).” Tears in her eyes she can't believe she is back and that she had both of you. Her heart is almost complete, but there is still a missing piece to the puzzle.

You didn't need her powers to know what she was thinking, “We'll find him, milaya.” She smiles at you, giving a soft peck on your lips.

“We will. Now that I have you two I know we will.”

This was more than you could have asked for at the end of the road.

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Alexia has an epiphany after everything comes to light

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 5 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion.

A/N: it’s finally here, 2 months later! 3.7k words in this one, i’m super proud. happy reading, and please let me know what you think! 💝

With the intention of falling asleep, you slunk in between the mattress and duvet.

Moonlight peeked at you from behind the blinds and danced across your sheets, warping with every movement you carried out beneath the blanket. Reaching out, your fingers were coated in the light, and every crevice in the surface of your skin was emphasised beneath the moon’s pale white illuminance, reminding you of just how many years those fingers had lived through. They’re just hands to hold things with, but it goes beyond just physical things — in between each finger is the phantom of your little brother’s hand when he’s one and learning to walk, bracing you to keep his balance as he toddles around the living room, evoking a proud smile on your face. Scars were peppered along the back of your hand, some little scratches originating from football and others taking the shape of teeth marks inflicted by your siblings. A silver bracelet dangled on your wrist and the charms clinked together, while the blonde hair tie that certainly wasn’t yours sat tightly below it and dented your skin.

Hands would always be hands, no matter how sacrilegious it felt to call them that due to the amount of deep-cutting memories they held. You placed yours down by your side once again, a deep exhale navigating its way out of your body as your muscles relaxed, and you further settled into the uncomfortable makeshift mattress you laid on. The room was cold, the sort of chill that was bliss to fall asleep in but not so lovely to stay awake in. Beside your face, the sheet of the bed flitted gently with every little exhale you let out, and it grazed the tip of your nose, inciting a tickling sensation on your skin. Your legs were constantly shuffling around underneath your blanket, your body tossing and contorting into different positions as you searched for the cold patches of the sheet you laid upon, desperate to fall asleep. You were exhausted beyond belief, yearning for nothing else but the relief of rest, yet you couldn’t find yourself relaxed enough. Deep thoughts, if not worries, were the perpetrator of your sleepless night.

It was hard enough to be sleeping on the floor, let alone trying to sleep while being tormented and jeered by your own flurry of thoughts and criticisms of the day’s events that overwhelmed your mind. For a time in which you wanted silence in your own head, your mind was obnoxiously alive, every thought amplified and incoherent. It felt like the ultimate betrayal to fall asleep, knowing the few hours left with your siblings would waste away during your slumber and you’d wake up to spend one more fleeting moment with them before they were gone, possibly forever.

There hadn’t been a word from the police about your mother all week. That was one more thing to be worried about, as you wondered how she was doing. Had she been admitted to the rehabilitation facility, like the social worker said? Would she even get the help she needed; proper, meaningful help, to get her life back on track? Most importantly, would it be enough to make her less of a hazard and more of a backbone in your siblings’ lives, contrary to all these years they had spent raised among her bottles? You were still afraid to return to your home. Whether she was there or not, it would feel like stepping into a graveyard of everything you had ever loved. The walls that could’ve once recounted the tales of the happiest of families… would they be traumatised into silence? It was a house, but it was nobody’s home anymore.

You hadn’t even given so much of a thought to work, and the sudden acknowledgement of your career’s existence awakened another restless surge of emotions inside of you. You had little faith in hoping that Alexia would understand your situation, regardless of what Vicky had advised. There wasn’t much to lose anymore if you did tell her, because your siblings were getting taken away anyways, but you still wanted to keep that deeply corrupted part of your life hidden away from her for as long as possible. You had yet to tell Vicky about the fostering conversation that happened at the police station earlier that day, but you hadn’t even fully processed it yourself; it would be virtually impossible to focus and get anything done at work, no matter how hard you tried, and you’d rather just stay home instead of get an Alexia lecture special to seal off your already shitty week of ordeals.

It made you sad, honestly. When you first got promoted to the first team you were everything; Barça's stargirl, the promise of a bright future for the blaugrana and the telltale signs of a worthy successor to Alexia's captaincy. Now... despite the performances you put up on the field that still won over the support of the public, you felt like the complete opposite was happening. With every step forward in football came five steps backwards in your personal life, and another step back in your relationship with Alexia.

Some would probably ask you why you were so afraid to come clean to your captain about your situation, the real reason why you're so tardy and 'irresponsible', and the worst part was, you couldn't give them a reason. It was daunting to tell Vicky — probably the most understanding person you could've confided in — so you couldn't even begin to imagine how you'd tell Alexia. Such a decision was made harder when you paid attention to the part of yourself yearning to tell her; though you didn't know if she had any experience regarding the foster system, alcoholism or anything relating to your ordeal, she was older, wiser, and had authority. You wanted to be able to open up to her about everything that has maimed you since you were 13, seek help from your captain, and receive the help for yourself that you’ve always provided for others. It was easier said than done.

The pursuit of help in itself was difficult. Confiding in anyone was a concept that you feared, even if you weren’t explicitly aware of that fact yourself. In a way, it felt like admitting that you had failed at fulfilling your only purpose — protecting your siblings from harm, and keeping them safe.

You glanced up to the bed beside you. You could just barely see a sliver of Magdalene’s forehead and the tip of her pinkish nose; the duvet was bunched because of her curled fist that was closed around it; the sound of her barely audible breathing was a daunting reminder that indeed, she was real. She was living and experiencing this just as you were. Yes, she would wake up and, as well as Dani and Lorenzo, they’d be whisked away for who knows how long — thrusted into the foster system, likely to be seen as mere charity cases and troubled kids with virtually nothing good going for them. Nobody would genuinely care about them. Someone would tolerate them out of pity, maybe, because they'd feel like they're obligated to be some sort of token of goodness in their poor, miserable lives. They'd hardly be tolerated because they deserve it; hell, their own father couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. The social workers saw tha, heard that and witnessed that, then still proceeded to think that there’ll be someone else out there that does, if not their own blood.

Pathetic, you thought. He was pathetic, lame, and utterly so. Everything in your life seemed that way since it began to crumble before your eyes. So, despite the fact you really didn’t want to at this moment, you shut your eyes and prepared for sleep. Those few moments of unconsciousness were your only refuge. At the end of the day, you always came back craving that moment of ignorance towards the rest of your calamitous reality.

The next day, before you could even open your eyes, you were weighed down by insurmountable feelings of dread. You were awake, but you just refused to open your eyes, because that would indicate that the day had begun and you’d have to face the events that were waiting. The sun replaced the pale moonlight as it seeped through the gaps in the blinds, much to your dismay — it was yet another reminder of the day that awaited you, another thing for you to scorn at and curse about under your breath as you turned your back away and buried your head back in the pillow. With only half of your face in the pillow, you opened your exposed eye ever so slightly and squinted at the screen of your phone as it lit up with a message. For a moment, a surge of fear coursed through your body as you considered the possibility of the text being from Alexia. An angry text was the last thing you needed right now, and you couldn’t help the scowl that tugged at your features as you mulled over the many things she could’ve texted you to convey her annoyance. Would it be a simple three word text, so she could really get into you at work, or an extensive paragraph so she could give you the cold shoulder for the entire duration of training? You never knew what it would be with your captain.

You crawled out of your pitiful excuse of a bed on the floor, your muscles slightly stiff from the lack of a comfortable surface you had been forced to sleep on. Dropping the blanket to the floor, you trudged over to the door, adjusting your shirt that was sitting askew on your torso. You shut the door behind you silently, so as to not disturb your siblings, before proceeding to walk down the hallway and towards the kitchen of Vicky’s home. You were eternally grateful for both her and her mother’s hospitality during this time, and you made a mental note to make that explicitly clear to Vicky as you walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Before even entering the room, you knew she’d be awake and ready for training; she was young and eager, like you had been at one point.

“Bon día,” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse and riddled with exhaustion as you slumped into a chair at the dining table. Vicky, who had been chopping up an apple, paused in her tracks and looked at you. For a moment, her eyes examined your state, and the slight wrinkle of her forehead was far from lost on you, but she still offered a smile and a ‘bon día’ in response. A snapping sound echoed through the kitchen as Vicky sealed the container she had put her apple slices into, and she turned around to walk over to the dining table and pull a chair out beside you. She looked at you for a moment, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, brown eyes roving over your face again, before she spoke; “How are you?”

It was obvious enough, but you still humoured her. “Honestly, Vicky, I’m horrible. I texted Jona and told him I’m not coming in today,” you responded, your voice flat and completely devoid of the energetic lilt it usually possessed. The main reason you weren’t going into work was because you physically couldn’t bring yourself to play any football while knowing your siblings were being taken away from everything they’ve ever known. The reason you gave Jona was, you didn’t feel well and had been up all night with a stomach ache. That would have to suffice.

“Okay. Well, text me if you need anything — and I mean it. Actually text me, don’t just nod and say you will,” Vicky said sternly, pointing a finger at you to further make a point. You rolled your eyes playfully, and your lips curled into the faintest of smiles as you nodded. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Vicky replied, standing up from the dining table and bending down to pick her training bag up, slinging it on her shoulder. She knew the real reason for your day off, but she didn’t mention it or ask you what your excuse had been. The telltale signs of uneasiness that were written all over your face gave her the answer she was looking for anyway. “I’m heading off. I’ll see you later, alright?” she spoke again, and you nodded, your smile broadening ever so slightly. “See you.”

You watched her leave the house and shut the front door behind her with a click. For some reason, watching her leave for training made you miss playing football, but you simply weren’t anywhere near fit for training — mentally or physically. The sport used to be your reprieve from all sorts of upsetting emotions and a distraction from your troubles, but now… it had turned into one of those troubles. God, how you missed the early stages of your career, the time when you had been a promising young talent on the rise, when football was fun. You still had time, and you definitely had the potential; you were only 18, you had heaps of time, but even then, it felt like every day, your talent dwindled even more, and soon you’d be left with none. You’d merely be another ‘what-if’, a wasted talent, and that’s not the outcome you had worked so hard for your entire life, back when it was good. Back when your family was still intact.

“Hermana,” a little voice called out from the stairs. You turned to look in the direction of the sound, and your eyes settled on Magdalene, who was standing on the last step and rubbing her eyes. You could hear faint bickering from Dani and Lorenzo upstairs in the bedroom, and a little smile tugged at your lips. Something about the sound of their childish arguing warmed your heart, despite knowing you’d have to tell them to cut it out. It was good to know that they still indulged in the trivial things, like children their age should be doing. You beckoned Magdalene over to the table and stood up from your own seat, walking over to the kitchen. “You hungry, hermanita?” you asked her, opening cupboards to see what there was to make. “Sí, tengo mucha hambre,” she responded softly. You nodded as you opened the fridge, and your gaze landed on a carton of eggs.

The eggs turned into golden pieces of French toast that you put onto four plates and served with drizzles of maple syrup and icing sugar dusted on top. Magdalene was practically salivating, her little face lit up with excitement as she watched the process, and she let out an excited exclamation when her share was slid across the table to her. Dani and Lorenzo’s expressions mirrored hers almost exactly, and from the moment the plate touched their placemats, they began to ravage their food. You took your seat and ate like a normal human being, enjoying and savouring every bite, secretly surprised at how well the French toast had turned out. Cooking was — surprisingly — something you possessed a fair bit of skill in. You had to learn how to cook so you could continue to feed your siblings good, nutritious food; occasionally, you’d treat them to a restaurant dining experience, but oftentimes you’d make them something at home. They loved whatever you put on the table for them.

Breakfast that morning was something you’d hold close to your heart. All four of you sat around the table and talked, bantered, laughed and ate your food. Dani and Lorenzo went back and forth with their opinions about how they thought the upcoming Barça men’s fixture was going to go, while Magdalene updated you on the latest doll she had her eye on. You nodded along enthusiastically, of course, while occasionally chipping into the boys’ conversation with your opinion. To them, they probably just got carried away with their conversations, but for you, it was a bit more… calculated. Usually, you’d tell them to hurry up, and you’d eat your food faster, but you took only a couple bites every few minutes, and you were doing quite a bit of talking too. You were trying to stall as much as you could to avoid the inevitable.

Vicky arrived at the pitch twenty minutes after leaving home. She gave her mother a brief kiss on the cheek before grabbing her training gear and hopping out of the car. The things you had said to her the day before still loomed over her head. She was worried for you, more than she had expressed, because she knew you would just insist that you were fine and worrying about you was a waste of time… but she still worried. She could see the toll it was all taking on you, and Alexia didn’t make it any easier on you. She’d watch from afar, the type of interactions you two would have, and it honestly made her more irritated than she would like to admit. She would watch Alexia’s gaze harden whenever it settled on you, and the venomous lilt to her words when she addressed you. Not to mention, the fact she would never let you explain yourself; Vicky had to be honest, she was growing a little concerned and curious as to why you were beginning to show up late more often, but now, she realised you actually had many reasons to show up a few minutes late to training.

Her training bag hit the pitch with a dull thud as she dropped it beside the bench. She sat down beside it and pulled her boots up, a few specks of dirt flying out simultaneously, and she hit the studs together to get the mud off the soles of her boots. As she was preparing to put her right boot on, a figure stalked over to her and towered above her, simply watching. When she looked up, she internally groaned when she saw Alexia, and the annoyed look on her face. Vicky already knew where this was heading.

“Vicky, where on earth is (Y/N)?” she asked, her tone slightly speculatory. Vicky let out an inaudible sigh before responding. “She doesn’t feel well, so she isn’t coming in today.” It was a lie, and a blatant one at that, but it wasn’t the truth, which was what Vicky had to avoid revealing.

Alexia gave an exclamation akin to a scoff, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I see. She’s still as irresponsible as ever! She’ll take any excuse to not come into work, I’m sick and tired of it, seriously. She shouldn’t be playing for the first team if she behaves like this—”

“Alexia, just stop! She isn’t ‘irresponsible’; she has a lot going on, and it would put you to shame if you knew about it. I respect you — you know that — but come on,” Vicky cut her off, her tone of voice slightly exasperated. It took Alexia aback, because up until now, she hadn’t heard Vicky talk back in such a way, and it stifled her for a moment. ‘A lot going on? What is that supposed to mean?’ Alexia thought to herself. Her contemplation was written all over her face, but Vicky merely got a glimpse before she stood up and grabbed her bags, walking away from Alexia with a disbelieving shake of her head, leaving her captain to mull her words over and decipher the meaning behind them.

When she was far enough away from Alexia, she sat back down on the grass with a huff, and the reality of what she just did dawned on her. It was indirect, but still, the notion was there, and she felt a prominent sense of guilt settle in her abdomen. Shit. How was she going to explain that to you, if it came to that?

Meanwhile, Alexia stood by the bench like a statue, in a state of deep contemplation as she tried to work out what exactly Vicky meant. Her words replayed in her mind over and over again, and her eyebrows furrowed as she thought long and hard about it. ‘She has a lot going on, and it would put you to shame if you knew about it’… What could you possibly have been going through that elicited such a defensive response from Vicky, who was hardly one to react in such a way? She thought about trying to get more out of Vicky and do a bit of probing, but she was rooted to the spot.

She glanced over at Vicky, subconsciously gnawing at the inside of her cheek, before she finally took a step towards her. She hesitated for a second, but then she continued, deciding that it was irreversible, now that she had taken the first step. Her expression was softer now, and her forehead was devoid of the irritated wrinkles it previously donned, as she approached the younger girl.

“Vicky,” Alexia spoke, taking purposeful strides towards Vicky. She sank down to the grass beside her, lazily extending her legs outwards and leaning back on her forearms. Vicky looked up, and her face was ever so slightly riddled with worry, but she didn’t protest against Alexia sitting down with her. “What did you mean about (Y/N)? What does she have going on?” the older woman asked, curiosity seeping into her words.

Vicky sighed. She knew this conversation was inevitable, and there was no way she could backtrack on her words, so she just steeled herself for the explanation she had to offer; Alexia was the captain after all, and like Vicky had tried telling you, maybe she could help you out, if she just knew what was happening. Alexia picked up on her expression of resignation, but she stayed silent and waited for Vicky to speak. Something about the tense air that lingered between them told Alexia that this conversation wasn’t a simple one to be having.

“Get comfortable,” Vicky finally responded, tying the laces of her right boot, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I am, because…”

“I hope you’ll help her, Alexia. She needs your help.”

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙋𝙐𝙍𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙔𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝟭𝟴+ 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔𝙔𝙔

• 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑 (𝙒𝙧𝙖𝙥 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥!) 𝙁𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙀𝙄𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙎����𝙓, 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓.

• 🖤 • • 🩶 • • 🩶 • • 🩶 • • 🩶 • • 🩶 • • 🖤 •

It had been a year since Dean had disappeared along with the angel Castiel. It’s also been a year since they all lost Bobby singer as well. But it’s been 6 months since she decided it was time to move on from looking for him. All she did was find dead end after dead end. Sam, he hadn’t looked for his brother, but he found happiness in a woman named Amelia. He was happy and that’s all that mattered. It’s also been 3 months since she had Dean’s baby. She didn’t know she was pregnant until weeks later. So, she spent 9 months pregnant stressing about looking for the love of her life and the father of her baby. But it was dead end after dead end. So she had to put that aside and take care of herself and try to move on.

Sam and his new girl were there most of the time. They lived in the same town as her. He visited her at times to help with her son Milo, so she can work and feed herself and her son. There were times when she would get into a depressive state and wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. So, Sam and Amelia would help her out until she would start to feel a little better.

Today was Milo’s first birthday and she had made a party to celebrate it. She had invited her co-workers with kids. She had also invited Sam, but he hasn’t made it to the party yet. The party finished and he never made an appearance. “So, is there anyway I can offer you a drink?” Henry caught her attention. She looked over at him and she smiled at him. “I need to clean all of this up.” She told him as he nods his head. “Looks like you need the drink.” He told her.

“Honestly I do need that drink.” She said as he smiled at her. They walked over to the kitchen and she takes out two glasses and the whiskey she had. She looked over at the backyard and saw one of her good friends playing with her one year old. She pours the whiskey into the glasses and hands one to Henry.

“So, what are you doing this Friday night?” He asked her as she took a drink from her glass. “Well, nothing really. It’s my day off.” She said as he nods his head at her. “So, can I take you out this Friday night?” He asked. She looked over at him. She when she opens her mouth. The doorbell rings. “One second, please”

She walked over to the door and opened it seeing it was none other than Sam. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been—.” Her words fell short as she made eye contact with those beautiful mossy green eyes. “Oh my god.” She said as she covered her mouth with her hands. “Hey, baby.” He said as a tear falls from her eye. “I-is it really you?” She asked him as he softly smiled at her. She ran into his waiting arms as he hugged her tightly, his eyes closed as he wanted to feel her embrace since the moment he made it out of purgatory. “I missed you so much.” He whispered.

“Uh, hi.” Henry broke their hug apart. Dean looked over at him frowning. “Who’s this?” He asked as she looked over at Dean. “Uh, can you give us a second?” She asked the brothers. They both nodded as they walked into the home. “Um, im sorry. Uh, I don’t think I can go on that date.” She told him as she could see the heartbreak in his blue eyes as he slowly nods. “You’re with Sam, aren’t you?” He asked her as she laughed. “Sam? No, Dean, yes.” She told him. He looked at her weird. “He’s the father of my son.” She said. “Fine, whatever.” He said as he started to walk away. “Henry! Henry!” She called out but he just kept on walking and ignored her call out of his name.

She sighs and walked into the home and she saw Sam and Dean in the kitchen. Dean heard footsteps coming his way and made eye contact with her and he softly smiled. “Sorry about that.” She said as Sam just shakes his head. “I get it.” He told her just as her friend Melina comes inside the house with Milo in her arms. “Mama.” A little voice said as she gave her to her. “Mama?” Dean said as he looked at the little boy.

He walked towards her as she picked him up in her arms. “Dean, this is Milo.” She told him as he looked at the one year old. “Dada?” The baby said as he looked at Dean. “He is your son.” She told him as he looked at her. She could see the shock written all over his face. “He’s mine?” Dean asked her as she smiled. She nodded her head. “I haven’t been with anyone else, Dean.” She told him as he takes in a deep breath. “Wow, uh.” He cleared his throat at the news. “Can I, uh, carry him?” Dean asked her as she nods her head. He reached for Milo, and the little boy didn’t have a problem going with the Winchester man. “Dada?” Milo said looking into his dad’s eyes.

“I’ve showed him pictures.” She told him as he looks at her with teary eyes.

• 🌙 • • • • • 🩶 • • • • ✨ • • • • 🩶 • • • • • 🌙 •

Dean told her that he was going to put Milo to bed. And he went to go do that. She knew Dean, was always good with kids. They always loved him when they met him. Sam and Y/N were waiting for Dean to get back to the kitchen as they both drank from their drinks she poured into 3 glasses. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t come.” Sam told her as she shakes her head. “Oh no, it’s fine.” She told him. “You were with your brother.” She said just as Dean came back up with a smile on his face. Sam finished his drink and looked at them. “All right, well, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Sam said as he walked out of the kitchen leaving the two hunters alone. “Goodnight, Sammy.” Y/N said.

After Dean walked him out and locked the door he walked back into the kitchen. “So, when did you find out?” Was the first thing he asked her as he walked into the kitchen. “A month after you were gone.” She said to the man as he nods his head. “Where were you?” She asked him as he walked closer to her. “I was in purgatory.” He told her making her eyes widen “of course.” She whispered to herself. “Why didn’t I think of that.” She looked up at the Winchester man.

“You looked for me?” Dean asked her thinking that she didn’t. “Yeah, I did. For months I looked for you.” She said to him. “But I started showing, and my pregnancy became a high risk.” She told him as he nods his head. “I had to calm down or I could’ve lost Milo.” She said. “I understand.” He told her as he puts his hand on her cheek. She leaned onto his touch and she sighs. “I missed you so much.” She whispered to him. “You’re the only thing that kept me going in purgatory, getting back to you, was my only fucking motivation.” Dean told her as she smiled up at him.

“So, are you going to kiss me. Or do I have to ask for it?” She asked him as she looked up at him. Dean then smirked down at her. He leaned down and he placed his lips gently on hers. He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her towards his chest as he made the kiss deeper. Y/N moaned into the kiss as he then picked her up and sat her on the counter, his hands giving her thighs a gentle squeeze going up her dress Y/N pulled away for a breath making her gasp as he kissed down her neck to her chest as he pulled down the strap of her dress. “Fuck, Dean.” She said as she runs her hands through his short locks as he pulled down her dress making her chest pop out from her dress. Dean latched on to her nipple biting it as she moaned. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Y/N gets off the counter letting the dress fall from her body and he looked at her. “Mmm. I seen you kept yourself busy.” He said as he looked at her very fit body. “Well, I had to lose the baby fat.” She told him as he shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind some baby fat.” He told her making her chuckled as she reached for him belt buckle taking it off along with his jeans and his boxers hitting the ground as his dick sprits up. Y/N grabbed onto it spreading his pre cum around his tip as she pumps it making him breath heavy as he hasn’t been touched in nearly over a year

Dean moaned his eyes closed as she slowly pumped her hand up and down his hard dick. Dean opens his eyes and takes off his jacket letting it fall to the floor as well as his shirts. He picks her up as she laughed. He asked her where her bedroom was and she lead the way. He opened the door going inside with her.

He tossed her on the bed making her bounce a few times as he closed the door behind him. Y/N opens her legs so he could get a good view of her pretty pink glistening pussy. He watched as she puts a finger into her mouth wetting it, as she looked at his mossy green eyes. She takes it out her mouth with a popping sound making him groan as he dick jumped as he got excited. She slides it down to her clit and she rubs it slowly making her let out a moan as she hasn’t felt any kind of pleasure since the last time she was with him. “Dean, fuck.” She moaned softly.

Dean growled as he rushed over making her giggle. He got on top of her as he roughly placed his lips on hers grinding his dick on her folds making her gasp into the kiss. Dean pulled away from the kiss and kisses down her chest, her stomach, the top of her pussy. His fingers spreading her lips open as he looks at her aching pussy. “So, wet for me.” He said as he looked up at her. He leaned down and sucked on her clit making her let out a loud moan. “Ah!” She moans

Dean flicks his tongue on her bundle of nerves as his ring finger and his middle finger go to her entrance. He slides them into her slowly making her arch her back off the bed as her leg shakes a little bit. “Oh my fuck!” She gasped as the tip of his fingers touched her G-Spot. Making her legs shake as she encased him between her thighs. “Cum for me, cum for me baby.” Dean told her as he relentlessly started to pick up his pace with his fingers inside of her making her into a moaning mess. “Mmmpm.” She moaned and she groaned as she clenched on his fingers, his tongue flickering her clit making her a shaking mess.

“Don’t stop, oh god!!” She squealed as the coil in her stomach exploded making her see stars, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her walls flutter around his fingers, her juices spilling into his mouth. Twitching she slumped into the mattress breathing hard as he slowed down talking out his long fingers out of her sensitive pussy making her gasp at that.

Dean stood back up and leaned down to kiss her. She moaned as she tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her. “Please, Dean I need you.” She whispered to him. “Tell me how much.” He asked her, his voice deep and husky. “So, so, much.” She told him as he lines himself at her entrance. He immediately slides inside of her making her gasp loudly as he thrusted inside of her. Dean groaned as he felt her around him. “Fuck, baby so tight.” He grunted as he slowly starts to move his hips. “Fuck.” She lets out a loud moan and a gasp as he started to pick up his speed at a good pace. She hugged Deans shoulders making him put his head onto the crook of her neck, his breath fanning on her neck. Her grunted as he kept his steady pace. “Fuck, yes! You f-feel so good!” She said

Dean pulled almost all the way out and thrusted back inside hard. “Aaah!!” She moaned and gasped at the same time as he did it a few times. The tip of his dick hitting her sweet spot over and over, bringing her closer to the edge to her second orgasm of the night. “Faster please.” She said as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels dig into his ass making him so go deeper into her. “Ooh! Dean!” Her mouth drops open as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Cum for me baby, let it go.” Dean whispered against her neck. “Aaah!” Her back arched as she digs her nails against his shoulders as he slams into her hard. “Keep going, keep going, keep goooing! Aah!” She saw stars as she exploded. Her walls fluttering on his dick. Dean sat up on his heels and hugged her legs looking at her face as she shook uncontrollably as he fucked her so hard. He lets go of her legs putting his hands on her hips buckling them into the air grinding them on his dick as he grunted. Dean started breathing heavy as he felt his dick start to twitch.

“I’m cumming, god. Aargh!!” Dean threw his head back as he kept on grinding her hips as he coats her walls with his seed. Shot after shot as he moaned so loudly. “Fuuuck.” He groaned letting her hips go as he falls on top of her his hot breath hitting her neck. Both still felt a few twitches from his dick as he just stays still. They both do. Satisfied smiles on their faces. Dean started to pull out. “Ah.” She moaned softly as he rolled to the side his dick softens up.

Their hearts calming down from the rush they just felt. Their bodies calming down from that high.

“Whew.” Dean said as they both chuckled. Y/N went into his waiting arms with a smile on her face. She was about to say something when Milo started to cry. “Oop, fun over.” She said making the hunter laugh. Y/N got up as she stumbled a little making the Winchester man laugh. “What? It’s been a whole year of no orgasms.” She told him as she holds herself up.

• 🌙 • • • • • 🩶 • • • • ✨ • • • • 🩶 • • • • • 🌙 •

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - Prologue -

Based off this blurb + Fem Reader : Not edited : 3.2k Words : Full M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? (this is just a prologue, all chapters will have a different writing style) CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) (applies to all chapters regardless if it's discussed or not)

Bakugo, or to you, Katsuki has been a huge figure in your life. Probably the biggest motivator as well. There since you were young and immature, running around in random neon clothes your mom let you wear after your 4-year-old self argued with her for half an hour.

You were the third addition to Katsuki and Izuku's friendship. Butting in on their rivalry often. Defending Izuku while shooting Katsuki a nasty glare. Helping Izuku with his bruises but also helping Katsuki with his, if he ever got any. You stuck to either boy's side, depending on who you saw first. Which, more often than not, was Katsuki. But you left his side whenever he picked on Izuku. Helping Izuku's muddy self get out of the river before considering Katsuki. 

That was in elementary school though, in junior high you stayed a balanced friend between the two. Stopping fights between the two boys, scolding the blonde boy every time. Yet you helped him clean up any time he picked a fight with anyone else. Wrapping up his bloody knuckles any time he needed, either from too much training or him being an asshole. You look back fondly on those times. Any time you so much as touched him, he sparked up, hands shooting out small explosions as he blushed. He felt bad obviously, but he was a preteen going through puberty and a pretty girl was touching him, what did you expect? He grimaced at every 'ow' that left your lips after he sparked up with your hand caring in his. He grew into his quirk and his control. So once the first year of high school hit, he was okay with small touches from you.

Thinking back on it, it was surprising he was okay with you, quirk-wise. He always gave Izuku hell for it, but never you. Maybe it's because you didn't have the drive to be a hero, wanting to stick to doing the sideline work of being a support tech. You weren't quirkless, but until the first year of junior high, you thought you were. Not having a flashy quirk or even a showing quirk at all. Only finding out because you've always aced every test and had an incredible academic ability. After a few too many recommendations of sped-up courses, did your parents take you to the doctor. Seeing that you did in fact have a quirk. Hyper-intelligence. You were basically a genius with an insanely good memory. It was an odd mutation of your parent's quirks. Your mom was able to remember everything she read and your dad was able to see the composition of anything he saw.

So along with Katsuki and Izuku, you strived to go to UA. Wanting to be in their support course, having strive to be a huge support tech in the future. Hopefully with your own company. You were well on that path as well.

You were there for that god-awful attack Katsuki dealt with in middle school. Seeing him covered in the sludge monster, gasping for air, haunted your dreams. You were walking with him after all. Watched the sludge climb up his body as you frantically tried to pry it off, your hands just slipping through the muck. Being pushed away once Katsuki started to cough violently. He didn't want you anywhere near what was happening. Looking wide-eyed at you before coughing for you to get help. So reluctantly, you did. Looking back at the blonde as he was submerged before you bolted for help, screaming for it down every walkway.

Only to come back to watch your other best friend running in to try and help. Screaming his name as well as you ran to get to them. Being pushed back by the wind All Might made when he came to help. Falling on your back as you watched, with tears in your eyes, Katsuki being freed from the sludge, gasping for any air he could. A hero lifted you up and held you from running to your friends, despite your frantic yelling for the boys. When they were cleared from the medics, you were allowed to see them. Instantly hugging Katsuki while yelling at Izuku over his shoulder, telling him he was stupid to run in without a quirk. Even though you were about to do the same. Katsuki rubbed off on you in that way. Yelling at others all while knowing you'd do the same.

By all means, you knew that wasn't going to be the last time you saw the boys in danger. Especially after Izuku got a quirk just in time for the UA testing. You weren't worried about the exam portion, the three of you studied together for that after all. Well, you studied with both of them, but they never studied with each other. Your test had an additional few tests but you passed them with ease. Just like how you knew Katsuki would pass his. You were worried for Izuku and his trial, which you were right to be, he broke both his arms with only one shot of his quirk. And after all that, it was still unlikely he'd get in. When you did get the letter of acceptance, you were with Katsuki, Izuku told you to go with Katsuki as he would probably not get in and he wants to be with his mom. Katsuki and you yelled and jumped around his room in excitement at the bold lettering of 'acceptance,' well you were jumping, he was being cocky and acting unaffected about it. Izuku called you only minutes after to let you know he got in as well. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he heard the news. Complaining once you hung up about how he didn't know how a nobody like him got in.

Getting into UA started everything for you. You got an insanely good internship after the sports festival. You followed Mei's lead, with Katsuki's and Izuku's advice, and showed off a suit similar to the American hero, 'Iron Man' just with your own flare and adjustments. Getting scouted for Endeavor's hero agency's personal tech crew. Following under the head of their tech.

With being in UA you got some insider information about what the hero course was doing. Making the hero outfit of both Katsuki and Izuku and doing any upgrades they needed. Eventually doing their friend's suits as well. Insider information wasn't enough, unfortunately. You were aware that the hero course went to the forest for training but you only knew Katsuki was taken when you met up with a beaten-up Izuku in a hospital bed. Having got a frantic call from Kirishima the second they got phone service. Him telling you to meet at this hospital because Izuku was in bad shape due to a villain attack.

You were involved in the rescue plan for Katsuki. Bring stealth equipment for a disguise. You weren't able to get anything else due to the time frame but you were there and it was successful. Holding your hand out alongside Kirishima for Katsuki to grab. You were also there for the fall of All Might, and consequently the fall of the boys beside you. Katsuki having his lip quiver as Izuku stood in shock.

Since you were there, and the villains saw your face and technique, you were invited to the dorms as well. They were supposed to be only for the hero course but they made changes. You dormed with the Class A girls.

You saw the boys leave that one night, deciding to stay in bed and let them hash it out. They should be grown enough at this point to not kill each other. Regretting that decision when you saw how beaten and bruised both the boys were the next day.

Their Provisional license exam was at the same time as yours. Yours being a test of how effective your gear is and if it's safe enough for the public heroes. Coming back to the dorms to see a happy Izuku and a distraught Katsuki. You spent that night in his dorm room, helping him prepare for the extra course he now had to take.

Being within the top best-performing techs within UA, you were recruited to help with the War. Making sure everyone had good and up-to-date equipment, giving extra support items, but also being within the team itself. They needed any help they could get and you had a suit good for fighting. Aizawa asked you himself. He knew his two best boys trained you enough to know how to defend yourself. So you were in the evacuation crew. Only parting from that when you saw the boys running in the direction of mass destruction.

You stood by Aizawa's side as you saw your best friends get pummeled within an inch of life. You stood there, holding Aizawa up as you watched Katsuki take three stabs in the chest for Izuku. Leaving the teacher's side instantly, running up to the limp and bloody body that was Katsuki. Hands searching his body to try and stop the blood. Bloody hands ripping his hero suit to push it into his wounds. Crying for him to stay awake. When his eyes were fluttering shut you placed your bloody hands on his face, trying to ground him as you shook his face. Bringing a hand up to slap him awake. His eyes shooting open to look at you. Iida eventually pulled you off him, helping Katsuki stand, and dragged him off the battlefield.

You had to bite your lip to hold in a yell when you saw Katsuki go back into the fight. The bloody handprints you left still on his face.

The hospital trip was a rough one as well. Waited the miserable hours for either of your best friends to wake. When one was being examined you went to the other. Constantly checking on both. Luckily, the moment Katsuki woke up, you were just coming back from grabbing a drink and some snacks.

Katsuki snapped his eyes open when he heard the door open, body jolting to sit up. You dropped your food, pushing Katsuki back into bed with a hug. He was mainly confused. He remembers the fight but he didn't expect you to be here. He wrapped his IV-ridden arm around you, hugging as tight as his ribs allowed. After all, he was extremely worried about you going into the battlefield. You didn't have nearly enough training. When he finally passed out from the pain his last worry was if you'd be alive when he woke up.

His brain was foggy, he was just getting his senses back, feeling you, smelling your hair that you must have washed the night before, and hearing the small sobs of relief you were letting out. "Stop crying, I'm fine," Katsuki rasped, voice still shattered from everything.

"You almost died," you pulled back, placing your hands on his face, getting the flashed memory of your bloody hands on him as he struggled to stay awake and alive.

He really took in your appearance then, forced to look at you with your hands squishing his face. You looked like a wreck, it was obvious to anyone that you hardly slept. Your clothes were wrinkled and your hair was a mess, as if you ran your hands through it too many times.

"Kats?" you called for his attention.

"Huh?"

"You can't do that to me," you scolded, knowing deep in your heart, something like this would happen again.

He knew that too, which is why he just pulled you in for another hug. "Why's my quirk weird?" he whispered, not feeling the usual sense of his quirk.

"What do you mean?" you asked. You tried to pull away but his grip was firm, keeping you pressed into his arms.

His face reddened. The reason he felt off was because he didn't feel the normal energy rushing through his hands that came out as sparks at your touch. "Just not sweaty, y'know, like normal."

You laughed lightly, voice still fragile from how much you've been crying, "They put you on quirk suppressants, they expected you to explode with anger or something when you woke up."

Ideas flashed before his eyes. He was on quirk suppressants and was unable to use his quirk, at least right now. He wasn't sparking up at your touch.

He left his arms loosen, you pulling back once again to check his face, make sure he really was there. Placing your hands on his cheek, squeezing your eyes shut at the memory before looking at him again. He thought over his next move, looking at your expression for a while. He reached his hand up to hold yours against his face. Looking up at you before his other hand reached up and pulled you in for a kiss.

That was the first kiss between you two. Put off as the heat of the moment and never discussed afterward. Both of you knew it wasn't, but you would die on the hill that it was. Right after you parted, a doctor came in to inform you that Izuku was starting to wake up, and he needed to run some tests on Katsuki.

After that, everything was insanely busy. Preparations for the war were already taking place. Izuku was asking for your help with his suit. The last suit he asked for before he wrote a goodbye letter and went MIA. That was hard for both you and Katsuki. You spent nights awake together going through the tracker you left on his gear, keeping track of his location and health.

Those nights together feel like a fleeting moment that you could never grasp again.

When the second year was supposed to start, you saw your childhood friend die in front of you. With nothing you could do as he laid limp on the cold ground. He was beaten and bloody just like everyone else. Just like you were. You went into the fight on a whim, just having finished a suit for yourself, and after about 20 minutes of fighting for your life, you were knocked down. Laying limp while you saw Katsuki get his lifeless body thrown to the side.

You woke up in the hospital before him, body still bruised but you were healed more than most. Katsuki's room was the first you went to, after asking every hospital worker if he was alive. His room was cold, not lively with his usual energy, but his heart was still pumping. Notes from his mom littered his table, just like yours but with more. You couldn't stand looking at him for more than twenty minutes. Choking on your tears as you decided to see Izuku.

Walking was too much for you, despite your healing, seeing Izuku's entirely broken body broke you even more. You passed out after a few moments of seeing the green-haired boy. Head flooding with the reality that both of your best friends almost died, and one did.

The nurse kept you in your room from then on, you passed out and hit your head. Gaining a major concussion with the fall. You were completely bedridden and required to be in a room with little to no light. So it was a shock when a bandaged Katsuki slammed open your door, multiple people behind him telling him to lay down and rest.

You had the horrible hospital food halfway in your mouth when he barged in. Dropping it as you stared at the boy.

"Are you okay?" he asked despite the protests behind him.

"Yes? Are you okay?" you asked back, more confused than anything.

Katsuki shoved the people off his shoulder and pushed his way into your hospital room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"What are you doing? You died! You need rest," you protested, finally having your brain start working.

He scoffed, walking to your side, with a a limp, "Can't sleep, 'think I can knowing you're in the hospital room down the hall?" He pushed you to the side of your bed, making a spot for him to lay next to you.

"When'd you wake up?" you asked softly, accepting he wouldn't have it any other way.

He stayed quiet for a moment, "Like thirty minutes ago."

"Bakugo!" you slapped his arm, super gently compared to normal, "Have you let them run their tests? How do I know you're okay?"

"Relax, and don't call me that," he huffed.

"You died!"

"I know," he sighed, looking away, "They ran a few tests and said I'm fine. Shouldn't be up but y'know how I am."

You let out a sigh of relief, "You should go to bed, Kats."

"Told ya, can't sleep," he looked at you

"Yeah but they need to-"

"I'm on quirk suppressants, can I kiss you?" he interrupted you, a blush coating his face.

"Huh?" you blinked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Please?"

"I mean sure but-"

He didn't let you continue anymore, pressing his lips to yours after he got your consent. This kiss was more passionate than the first. Like the other just escape death, like how it was. His hand cradled your face, pushing you closer just to kiss you softer.

When you both pulled back, you let out small breaths. Foreheads resting on each other as you stared at each others' lips.

"Been wantin' to do that," he whispered.

"Me too," you smiled. Any conversation before being forgotten, for a moment at least.

You heard the door handle to your room jiggle. Keys being tested on the lock.

"You're okay though?" he pulled back, looking at you for any injuries.

"Just a concussion, you have it worse," you frowned, looking at all the cuts that were covered with a bandage.

"I've lived through worse," he said for comfort.

"You died from this," you furrowed your brows. "Let your doctors run their test, otherwise I won't talk to you."

"But-"

"Go," you stayed firm. Just in time for the doctor to unlock the room and rush him out.

About two months or so later, you two had the chance to sit one one-on-one together. No physical therapy appointments to attend or any work to do. Just time to talk. The war left a lot of cleaning up and school only started again a week ago. Everything was changed and fixed. Which left little free time other than sleep. You've seen each other between the kiss and now but it was always in groups.

You talked for a while that day. Deciding to actually become something more. To be more than childhood best friends. So you did, about halfway into the second year.

The second year was busy, with all the changes to the hero world and the world in general. You never got time alone to work on your relationship. Staying normal besides the title change to your relationship, never even kissing again. It was hard but you worked through it, too busy to even think about it. The third year was the same, just only sharing a kiss if he got injured or when you got a huge job offer. You also shared a kiss at graduation, when you agreed to live together after school.

Getting a two-bedroom apartment together, right next to where you both worked. At first, you thought that the second bedroom was going to be an office. But it ended up being his room. The two of you not sharing a bed despite almost 2 years of a relationship at this point. Yet you worked with it, if he needed more time then that's okay. He was everything to you. And you could tell you were everything for him as well. It just got a little weird when your friends forgot your relationship, asked if you were unhappy or abused, or even flirted with you.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[random-writer-23]

~~~18+ MDNI with explicit content~~

I desperately need to be Logan’s pretty little housewife especially because after the life he’s lived he needs a touch of domesticity in his life.

Like imagine him getting a regular old blue collar job and coming home at the end of a hard days work, kicking off his work boots leaving them at the door. His body aching for a nice cold beer, and he just walks into the kitchen to see his pretty little wife in the kitchen, her apron tied around her waist, some music playing while she cooks his favorite meal. She’s got no idea that he’s there cause she of course can’t hear over the music playing, she’s too focused on not burning the food, and he doesn’t want to interrupt her, he wants to just stand there and admire the sight of her for a minute, letting it sink in that this really is his life now. No battles or fighting supervillains, just him and his little house at the end of the culdasac, and his pretty little wife who he met, and out of nothing short of a miracle managed to woo and marry her. And he genuinely can’t believe that such a sweet thing like her is his, that she loves him even with his attitude and rough edges. Especially not after the life he’s lived. And yet here she is, as real as the scars in his heart that slowly but surely she’s healing, without even knowing it.

He’s finally had enough of just memorizing the outline of her figure, and he steps towards her wrapping his arms around her tightly, keeping her close even as she jumps in suprise commenting on how she didn’t even notice he was home. He doesn’t respond, he just burries his nose in her hair just breathing in her scent, kissing the top of her head, as she giggles continuing to stir the food on the stove. But he’s not satisfied with just holding her, fearing she’ll slip through his fingers and leave like almost everybody else. He needs to feel her. His hands grow eager gripping her shirt tight in his hands. And she gently tries to push them away claiming she needs to focus on dinner. His mouth trails kisses down from the top of her head to the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. He growls in her ear something about ordering food instead and she shakes her head. If she needs to keep her eye on the food that’s fine, he’s flexible. But he can’t wait any longer, needs to prove to himself that she’s his, lifting her dress and splaying his hand across her abdomen as he sinks inside her as far as he can get, reveling in the quiet whimpers of pleasure she makes. He murmurs about keeping her focus on the food, waiting till she nods her agreement before he grips her hips tight and tries his best to distract her.

Edit: Since so many of y'all like this I might turn it into an actual fic...

[zalayni]

𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉

spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤

❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader

❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.

❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.

❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)

if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”

yet here he was.

after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.

don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.

he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”

you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.

"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.

Miles smirked at you while getting up.

"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."

miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.

you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.

he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.

"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.

"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."

Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."

ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.

you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.

you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.

you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.

"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.

mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.

the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.

after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.

you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.

here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."

it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."

"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."

your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.

"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶

artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram

[itsmarsss]

Maybe. [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

(~from the vault~)

Miguel Diaz is annoying. That you are convinced of. Sure, you've never really talked to him, but still, you live a very happy life that way. But then one day he gets wasted at a party and you end up with the unfortunate job of driving him home. Sounds like just your luck.

Warnings: making out, little jokes about sex, some sexual tension there. enemies to lovers except the enemies part is completely one-sided

Word count: 9,567

[...]

Miguel Diaz wasn’t the kind of guy to have a lot of enemies.

He had, in fact, become fairly popular after he started doing karate and won a fight against West Valley’s biggest bully, surpassing the loser label that had immediately been slapped onto him when he’d moved into the neighborhood.

He was the typical nice guy who pretty much everyone seemed to like. Good at school, the type who wouldn’t hesitate to help you with schoolwork if you asked him to. Always nice to everyone, greeting and smiling at random people he’d never talked to before in the hallways as if they were one of his friends.

But, to you, Miguel Diaz was just irritating.

Everything about him somehow made you mad. He was just so apparently perfect and all of a sudden people couldn’t seem to shut up about him and that was sure to make you nothing short of annoyed. Yeah, you supposed he did seem nice, but you were positive it was impossible that all that sudden praising hadn’t gotten to his head.

You were convinced he was a huge asshole deep down, just a loser who got lucky enough. And though you had no real evidence to back that up, yet to see this facade of his that you convinced yourself of, you still couldn’t get yourself to like him.

Whatever. You could survive a life without him in it.

It didn’t help, though, that your best friend was friends with him. Did karate with him, too. Aisha absolutely loved Miguel, and seemed to make sure to mention it to you all the time.

They were genuinely good friends, and so you supposed you did feel a little bad when you dragged her to sit with you and away from her Cobra Kai friends during lunch, but you were positive that if you tried to sit with them you’d end up saying some not very nice things, and you weren’t up for drama at the moment.

But she kept bugging you about it, insistently so, and god, could Aisha be persistent when she wanted to. So one day, to shut her up about it mostly, you agreed to go with her and her friends to a party at the canyon.

You told her you’d try to be nice, but made a promise to yourself to keep distance from a certain someone specifically. Maybe then you’d be able to enjoy the night and- hey- maybe even the others’ company.

Maybe.

[. . .]

“Don’t just stand there!” Aisha laughed.

“Since when are you a party person?”

“Since I realized I could throw them!”

Wait, what? “Wait, this is your party?”

“Well it’s a Cobra Kai party…”

Alright, so you didn’t want to give it to them. Cobra Kai as a whole annoyed you to no end, as it seemed to be a breeding factory for nerds turned into stuck-up assholes, but you couldn’t deny you were grateful for how much it helped Aisha. The Aisha you knew a few months prior would have never had the guts to throw a party, let alone assume people would attend it.

So, fair enough. “Cool!” “Hey Aisha come watch me do a keg stand!” Some guy you’d seen walking around with the Cobra Kai guys before yelled from the other side of the place.

Aisha glanced back at you, seemingly a bit torn about leaving you. “Do you wanna come?”

“No it’s fine. I think I’m gonna grab something to drink. Now go!” You assured her, smiling. You wanted her to enjoy having other friends.

You barely had time to pick yourself up a drink before you weren’t alone anymore.

“Y/N!” A guy wearing a graphic t-shirt that quite literally read ‘📍your mom’ under a flower pattern button-up called your name, walking towards you. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, as you were completely sure you’d never talked to him before.

You didn’t know how to feel about not being so invisible anymore, all by association with Aisha. It definitely felt a little weird. “Um. Have we- have we met? Sorry.”

“Not really. But Aisha talks about you a lot. I’m Demetri, by the way,” he held out his hand, and you shook it. What teenager shakes hands these days?

“Well, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “So, you want me to show you everyone?”

“Uh. Okay. Sure. Yeah. That'd be cool."

“So, that’s Eli-” He pointed at the guy who sported a blue-dyed mohawk, and was currently rather busy making out with someone you actually knew- Moon. You didn’t exactly like Moon, but you supposed she did seem to be more of an out-of-touch person than a mean one, compared to her friends. “Uh yeah, who’s apparently making out with Moon. Somehow. He likes to be called Hawk now but I think that’s pretty ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“Yeah well he used to uh- some people used to call him Lip. ‘Cause he has a scar.”

“That’s him?” Said boy pulled away from Moon, and you took a good look at him. It was him. You always thought he looked cute, but you had to admit now he looked kind of hot.

You had to give Cobra Kai some credit in that area too.

“Yeah.” Demetri turned you around. “Those two walking down are Robby and Samantha and-” He seemed to realize something, suddenly looking worried.

“Something wrong?”

“No uh. I don’t really talk to them. That,” he spun you around one last time, “Is Miguel. But you must know him already.”

“Yeah I’ve heard of him.” He was downing a beer bottle at rapid speed. “He’s really getting shitfaced,” you pointed out.

Demetri still looked worried, nervous. “Yeah uh, Sam’s his girlfriend.”

“The one walking down the hill?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“He thinks she’s cheating on him. With Robby.”

You looked at the two again, laughing, their fingers intertwined. You could be taking it wrong, of course, but it did look like they were together in some way. It wasn’t that far of a stretch to feel a little jealous of a scene like that at least. “Oh that sucks.”

You weren’t heartless, okay? Just because you didn’t like the guy didn’t mean you wanted him to get cheated on. If that’s what was even happening.

“We should go-” Demetri grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you with him on Miguel’s direction.

“What? No-” You weren’t heartless, but you weren’t his friend either. What were you going to do, comfort him? Let him cry on your shoulder? Come on now.

But you didn’t even have the time to protest. You were already there, and it seemed that so were the Samantha girl and the Robby guy , and Miguel didn’t look pleased.

Well, he was laughing, but it was definitely not a good kind of laugh.

“So I don’t have to worry, right? Well that’s funny.”

Miguel was wasted.

He tried to pick up a fight, and ended up hitting his own girlfriend on accident, which had, expectedly, resulted in her breaking up with him on the spot. Now you were sitting beside him, and you didn’t know what to do.

Wouldn’t it be best if you just left? Clearly you shouldn’t be here, his actual friends should be dealing with this. But then again it would be too shitty to leave Aisha on her own. You had agreed to be her designated driver after all.

Everyone was quiet, apparently not knowing what to say. God, someone really should bring the guy home.

Hawk spoke up, finally, voicing those same thoughts. “Um, dude, you should go home.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re really drunk, man, just go home.”

“I walked here.”

“Shit. Right. Do any of you have a car?” Demetri asked no one in particular.

“Oh Aisha does. Well it’s her dad’s,” you pointed out, not really thinking it through.

Aisha’s look shot up. “But-” You could see she was conflicted. You could understand. Finally people wanted her around, and she wanted to stay a little longer for that.

You could not believe you were about to do this.

“I’m such a good friend,” you muttered, standing up, and Aisha looked at you, puzzled. You held your hand out. "Gimme the keys."

"What-"

"Do it before I change my mind."

She did as you said, placing it on your hand. You took another look at Miguel, then at Hawk. "Can you help him?"

Hawk immediately stood up to do so, and you made your way to Aisha's car, leaving both Aisha and Demetri behind with a promise you'd come back later to drive them all home too.

"Do you know where he lives?"

Hawk was done shoving a now barely conscious Miguel into the passenger's seat, buckling the seatbelt for him, which you took notice of. He seemed to care a lot about Miguel. "Yeah I'll- can you give me your number? I'll forward it."

"Sure."

[. . .]

"Where are we going?" At some point along the way Miguel seemed to have gained a little consciousness back, his eyes widening as he took bearing of his surroundings. You could understand why. He was in a random car going who-knows-where with a kind of random person who hated him. Well he didn’t really know about that last part, but still.

"I'm taking you home."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, my mom can't see me like this."

"What?"

"I can't go home like this you don't get it-"

"But where-"

"She's been so proud of me lately, I-" Was he… crying? So he was an emotional drunk. Miguel Diaz, a crier. Who would've thought.

"Well where the fuck am I supposed to take you?"

"I- sensei- no he lives next door you can't-"

"Diaz I'm gonna take you home. I don't care."

"Fuck."

You actually took a good look at him when you had to stop at a red light. He looked a mess. He was sweating, hair sticking to his forehead, legs shaking in anxiety.

You couldn't be this soft, right?

You sighed in annoyance, but you were doing this to yourself, really. "I'll take you to my place. But you better sober up cause you're gonna have to get in through the window."

He seemed surprised. "You'll do that?"

"Yeah don't get used to it. I'm kicking you out as soon as I wake up."

He stayed silent the whole ride, until you turned the engine off.

"Thanks," he muttered under his breath, before you opened the door to get out. You didn't reply.

You helped him out, holding him by his wrists until he got his balance back, and you both climbed through your bedroom window, which you were now thankful you'd left open.

"G’mme your phone."

“Why?”

“I’m gonna text your mom.” He unlocked it, getting the password wrong a few times before handing it to you. The texts you sent were simple.

hey mom im really tired gonna stay at demetri’s call you in the morning!

You didn’t know if trusting Miguel to be alone with his phone, in that state, especially after what had gone down at the canyon, was the smartest choice, so you took it with you, stuffing it in your back pocket.

“Okay look I still gotta get Aisha and the guys, so I'm trusting you to keep quiet." This was a bad idea. "Can you do that?" This was a terrible idea.

He nodded before plopping down on your bed. This was a horrible idea.

He was asleep in a second, and there was nothing else you could do but hope he'd stay that way as you climbed your way back out.

. . .

"Okay any of you that wanna get home get in the fucking car please," you said, not really up to stay and wait even more for them. After all, every second you were there was one more second in which a completely wasted Miguel Diaz was alone in your room, with your mom right there in hers.

All three got inside pretty quickly, and you dropped them off as fast as you could. Demetri first, then Hawk, Aisha last.

You actually got in through the door this time, so your mom would know you'd gotten home without having to go check your room. You prayed she hadn't done that already.

"Mom? You awake?"

"Yes! The party done?"

"Yeah. Had to drop some friends off, sorry I took too long."

"It's fine. Didn't Aisha pick you up though?"

"Oh yeah she left the car with me, got to be the driver for today. I’ll just pick her up tomorrow.”

"Oh okay honey!”

"Well I'm really tired. Gonna go to sleep.”

"Yeah, me too. Goodnight!"

“‘Night, Love you!”

With that, you quickly took off to your room to check on Miguel, who, surprisingly, was still asleep on your bed.

Your relief quickly washed away when you registered the fact that he was asleep… on your bed. You know, where you were supposed to sleep. Fucking great.

You considered waking him up and making him sleep on the floor. For… reasons that had everything to do with not being an asshole, and nothing to do with anything else at all, you didn’t.

You grabbed some blankets and placed them on the floor beside your bed, snatching one of your pillows from under his head. This was going to absolutely kill your spine.

You took one last look at him, and couldn’t contain a laugh at how ridiculous he looked, draped over the bed, hair disheveled, literally drooling. You’d have to change your pillowcase tomorrow.

‘Good-fucking-night, I guess.'

[. . .]

Your alarm went off at 7, as it always did on school mornings, and you jumped awake when you remembered how gross you probably were after the previous night. Miguel was still in deep sleep when you left to take a shower, but was sitting up on the bed, looking confused, when you came back. He’d apparently already taken the advil you left for him on your nightstand, as it was nowhere to be found.

“Are you- what am I doing here?”

“Drank too much. Cried like a baby when I tried to drive you home,” you shrugged. “Now hurry up, dude, or we’re gonna be late.”

“What?”

“Look we’ll talk in the car, I can’t be late for chemistry again or Mr. Henderson is gonna be up my ass about it.”

He still looked completely out of the loop, barely awake yet, but nodded, standing up and following you to the car.

“Why’d you bring me here?” He finally spoke up after a couple minutes in silence. It seemed that he was finally becoming fully aware of what was going on.

“I was actually gonna bring you home, but you started crying ‘cause you didn’t want your mom to see you drunk or whatever. So. Next best thing.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “So, uh. you’re friends with Aisha, right? She talks a lot about you-”

You cut him short. “Look, just because I let you stay over and sleep in my bed doesn’t mean we’re friends, alright? You don’t have to be friendly just ‘cause you think you owe me something.”

“Um, I was just trying to be nice-”

“I’m not an asshole, I wasn’t gonna do you like that. I’m very nice, you’re very welcome, whatever.”

“Are you- are you... mad at me?” He looked surprised- no, dumbfounded was a more fitting word to describe it.

You scoffed. In truth, you still had no idea what about him got you so irritated. It’s not like he wasn’t being nice.

Still, you couldn’t help it. “What, can you not believe there’s one person out there who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on?” Okay, so you were exaggerating. So what? Not like it was gonna make much of a difference for him.

“I don’t think anyone worships the ground I walk on.”

"Whatever, Diaz. I’m only doing this ‘cause you’re Aisha’s friend.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About what?”

“Your girlfriend, or whatever.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, it’s fine. I was an asshole last night. Should’ve expected it. I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah. Oh Hawk’s bringing you a hoodie, by the way. So you don’t smell like alcohol at school.”

“Thank you.”

Nope. “His idea.”

He nodded. “Right.”

It wasn’t long until you pulled up into Aisha’s driveway, making your way out and around the car and opening the passenger's door to find Miguel staring at you, silently asking what you wanted.

"Move. I take shotgun when Aisha drives."

"Does that really-" He didn't bother finishing his sentence, letting out a sigh before unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out.

"Thank you," you said, making sure it didn't actually sound like you were thankful at all, before hopping in. Miguel did the same, getting in the backseat.

You quickly separated as soon as you got to school, with Miguel following Hawk to change into the hoodie he brought him, and you and Aisha getting on your way to Chemistry with Mr. Henderson.

Aisha shot you a weird look. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"You're being a total bitch to him! What happened to the person that took him home last night? Let him stay over?"

"For your information I do have empathy, you know? He was crying!”

"You still could've just taken him home," she shrugged, a smug look on her face. Jerk.

"Hey this is all on you! He left my bed reeking of beer, you owe me a big one."

"He slept in your bed?"

"And I slept on the floor, dumbass! He was passed out drunk!"

"Yeah sorry I don’t think I remember a lot of it. But you slept on the floor? That must've hurt."

"It did. So he should be very thankful."

"I... think he is. You're just not letting him thank you."

"Hey I let him thank me! But that doesn't mean we have to be friends. I'm doing pretty well without him in my life."

"Just admit he's not as bad as you thought and move on!"

"Oh fuck off. What do you want me to do next, marry him or something?"

"Hey you’re the one who’s bringing it up,” she put her hands up in surrender, as if defending herself.

"Shut up. Pay attention, Ms. Robinson!" You mocked her, turning to the projector in front of you.

[. . .]

"Yeah right like Demetri could win a fight against Hawk."

"I think he could! If he got some training." Aisha protested, laughing.”

"Oh come on have you seen the guy? I don't know what your sensei's been feeding him but he's like jacked now."

"Oh so you've been paying attention?" She raised an eyebrow in an exaggeratedly suggestive manner.

"Like I'd want something to do with a guy from Cobra Kai."

"Hey!"

"You're an exception! You are on thin ice though."

"Well I think you should give them a chance."

Of course you could see right through her. "If by them you mean Miguel's included then you can forget it."

"What is it with you and him anyway? What did he ever even do to you?

"Nothing? I don't know, he just makes me mad. You can't be that perfect and not be an asshole."

"Did you just call him perfect?"

"I was being mean about it!"

"You totally d-" She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed you weren't paying attention, your eyes focused on something right behind her. She turned around to face…

Well, speak of the devil.

"What?" You asked him dryly. What could he possibly have to talk to Aisha about right now that required interrupting your lunch?

But he was actually talking to you. "I uh- I think I left my phone at your place? I can't find it anywhere."

You mentally cursed yourself for it, remembering you'd taken it with you the night before. "Shit yeah. I was scared you'd call someone or it would ring and my mom would hear or something. I guess… You can come over to get it after school if you want."

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks." He was about to turn around and walk back to the table he was sitting at with his friends before he stopped. "Do you guys wanna like. Sit with us?"

Aisha looked at you expectantly.

"No, we're good," you replied, and he nodded, making his way back.

"Dude! Let's just go!"

"What I already have to see him after school and now you want me to spend lunch with him? No thank you."

"You're so stupid."

You stuck your middle finger out at her before going back to eating.

[. . .]

You had already told Aisha goodbye, and were about to leave when he came up to you again. “Hey! Y/n! Wait-”

You turned around to face him. He was out of breath, clearly having run all the way up to you. You quirked an eyebrow, demanding him to tell you what he wanted. This was like a 400% increase on your Miguel Diaz interaction scale and you were right about done.

“My phone.”

Oh, right. He was coming over, like, right away. That was great.

“Yeah right. I’m walking home though.”

“Yeah I’ll- I’ll walk with you.”

And what an awkward fucking walk.

“Well here it is,” you handed him the phone, and he took it, stuffing it in his back pocket.

“Alright, thanks.”

“Sure.”

“See you at school?”

Hopefully not. “I guess.”

[. . .]

“Oh I’ll- be right back!” You heard Miguel’s voice behind you as you walked through the hallway alone, on your way to bio, and made sure not to look his way, hoping he wouldn’t see you.

You had no luck with that.

“Y/n!”

You let out a defeated sigh before turning around. He was wearing a deep-red hoodie, which was something you took notice off, for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Hey I know you don’t want anything to do with me-” you nodded, agreeing, and he pursed his lips together before continuing. “-but I think uh- I think I left my socks at your place too?”

He had to be kidding, right? “What?”

“My uh- my socks.”

“You think you left your socks in my room. And you wanna go get them.”

“Well yeah.”

“Can you not survive without one pair of socks?”

“Well-”

“You know what, fine. Whatever. I’m leaving a little late today though so you’ll have to stick around.”

“Yeah sure.”

You wordlessly turned around and walked to class. It seemed that interacting with Miguel was now a daily experience. That was just such fun, huh?

. . .

You found him waiting for you by the bike racks, right by the front steps, as you exited the building. You kind of didn’t actually expect him to wait for you. I mean, he could just ask you to look for the stupid socks and bring them to him the next day. That’s certainly what you would do if you were in his shoes, as to avoid the interaction.

You had to remind yourself, though, that the hate you felt for him isn’t mutual, which only angered you further. Couldn’t he just hate you back? Be a little rude? Maybe then you wouldn’t look like a bitch for being like that towards him.

“You didn’t take that long,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. Turns out they wanna move the project up for one more week or something.”

“That’s cool.” He pulled his bike out of the rack, grabbing the handles and starting to walk with it by his side, and you followed along. You were both quiet for a couple minutes before, of course, he couldn’t help himself from talking. Did he think everyone wanted to hear him talk all the time?

A tiny part of you told you he was just trying to be nice. Okay, fine. Maybe you were being too harsh.

“What’s your deal with me?”

Yeah, no, he can perrish actually. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“It… definitely looks like it.”

“Well I don’t.” Well...

“Then why do you act like you do?”

“What, are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

“I just wanna know what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything! You never seem to do anything wrong, do you?”

“What?”

“What, don’t play dumb. I don’t know what it is, okay? You just annoy me. You’re so nice to everyone and everyone just likes you so much and you don’t even have to do anything!”

“You don’t like me… because I’m nice to people. And so they like me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s how it sounded.”

“Whatever. We’re here,” you pointed out, and you made your way into your place. Not without taking notice of the sky, which was a dark grey color now, a storm forming. “Come on you can leave the bike here, looks like it’s gonna rain.”

“Yeah, I think…”

[. . .]

… So you were stuck at home with him.

This had to be a nightmare.

The clouds were quick to cover the sky right after you got inside, and you could barely see any hint of sunlight despite it still over four in the afternoon. Rain started pouring heavily quickly after, a storm suddenly forming in no time.

And so there you were. In your kitchen. Alone. Stormed in with Miguel Diaz.

This was just fantastic. Great, amazing, wonderful even!

And your annoyance was apparently visible. “Look if you’re so mad about it I can go-”

You stared at him for a couple seconds, unamused. “You wanna bike? In the middle of the storm?”

He just shrugged.

“I don’t hate you that much, you know? You can stay ‘till it’s over.” God, did you hope it would be over soon.

“See you told me you didn’t hate me at all.”

“Okay yeah you can go.”

He laughed. “Fine. I won’t push. Do you wanna do something?”

“I mean I don’t think there’s a lot to do. I guess we could watch something.”

“Yeah! That’s cool!”

“Well what do you-” you were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, and you took it out of your pocket, only to see it was your mom calling. Miguel sat back down by the counter as you picked it up.

“Honey are you okay? Are you home yet?”

“Yeah we got here just in time. Are you alright?”

“Yes, but the rain’s really bad here- wait, we? Is Aisha over?”

You took a glance at Miguel. Now how to explain that?

“Uh, actually it’s another friend.”

“Is it? Who?”

“Um his name’s Miguel? We were gonna do a- a physics project. But he rides a bike, so.”

There was a pause. “Right. Are you two gonna be okay?”

“Yeah don’t worry! We’ll just do what we need to do ‘till he can go.”

“Fine. Call me if you need anything! I’ll head home as soon as the storm clears.”

“Right. Love you!”

[. . .]

“Um does she not mind?” You were both sitting on the couch now, about 20 minutes into Thor: Ragnarok, when he said something.

You looked away from the screen. “What?”

“Y- your mom? That I’m here, I mean.”

“Oh she did sound a little- I dunno. But it’s not like she’s gonna make you go out in this weather.”

“Cool. Oh- we didn’t- I didn’t get my socks.”

You laughed at the thought of him thinking about his stupid socks the entire time you’d been watching the film. “Do those socks really matter that much to you? Oh are they too embarrassing? Do they have like little spongebobs on them or something?”

“No, I just-” he seemed to be fighting it, but was now laughing too. “No they don’t have little spongebobs on them. Just remembered it.”

“We can get it after the movie’s done.”

“Right.” He brought his attention back to the TV, but you decided to grab your phone and text Aisha.

y/n

dude youre not gonna fucking believe my luck

She replied almost instantly.

aisha

????? what happened

y/n

well miguel came over to get his socks or whatever

aisha

and???? ;))))))

y/n

this isnt a ;) situation!!! were stuck inside!!!

aisha

omg are you serious its just rain

y/n

yeah but pretty boy here rides a bike

aisha

dude you walk

y/n

irrelevant!!!!!

aisha

well what are you doing rn?

y/n

were watching thor trying not to kill him

aisha

oh shut up

y/n

he’s annoying!!!

aisha

just watch the movie and wait for the rain to stop its not that hard

y/n i've watched this like 7 times already he was just really excited to watch it

aisha

awww you're all soft for him

y/n

im going over your house to kill you

aisha

you cant bc you're stuck with miguel!! WAIT

y/n

what?

aisha

you're home alone with a cute boy and youre complaining??

y/n

hes not a cute boy!!! hes miguel!!!

aisha

whos a cute boy

y/n

you dont even like guys

aisha

im not blind??

y/n

shut up

aisha

get some!!!!

y/n

die

aisha

:))))))

You put your phone down looking at Miguel once again. He was really concentrated on whatever was going on in the movie, so you decided it was safe to stare for a little bit. He didn’t look as messy like he did that day at the party. He even-

“That hoodie looks good on you.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

You really hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You couldn’t quite figure out his expression. God, he was gonna make fun of you-

“Thanks,” was all he said in return. He was staring at you now, as if trying to figure you out. You supposed you had to give it to him- you were just as shocked at yourself to blurt that out as he seemed to be. The movie seemed to be long forgotten.

You expected some snarky remark, a cocky grin. But nothing. Was that it? He was probably controlling himself as to not laugh at your face about it, you just knew it.

You couldn’t take the embarrassment. Why did you have to make things weird? You suddenly stood up in a quick motion. “I’m gonna find us something to eat.”

Aisha’s texts must have just gotten to your head, because why else would you even say something like that? You didn’t think he looked in that hoodie. Wait, no, that’s not what you said. You said you thought the hoodie looked good on him. Whatever, you had to focus.

And then he did the worst possible thing he could have done, which was offer to go with you.

Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! “Sure.” You tried to act normal. There was nothing normal about the weird tension you’d managed to create between the two of you.

It’s safe to say things were awkward. You occupied yourself with opening and looking through every single cabinet in the kitchen, even the ones where you knew there would be no food, trying desperately to find excuses to delay looking at him.

“Um are you okay?”

“Yes.” You were not. “Why?”

“You’ve been looking for something for a while. I’m not that hungry you know, you don’t have to.”

“Well I am.” You grabbed the first thing you could find, which was a chocolate bar, thankfully. At least one good thing to come out of this never-ending disastrous afternoon. “Found it.” You held it up for him to see, but made sure to avoid eye contact before making your way to the living room.

You both sat down to resume watching the movie, but there was still this weird energy around the room, one which, again, you’d gracefully created on your own, and you felt antsy. “Do you wanna go get your socks?”

“Uh, okay?”

You nodded back, turning around and making your way towards your room, knowing he’d follow you. You quickly sat down on your bed and waited for him to walk through the door.

“Hey.”

“Um I didn’t see any socks anywhere so. Feel free to look around.” You finally worked up the guts to look at him for a split second. He nodded.

[. . .]

An hour had gone by since, and the storm didn’t look like it was getting any better. You’d even passed the point of being embarrassed about what you’d said earlier- okay, maybe not completely, but still- and were just staring at the ceiling, laying on your bed, waiting for the time to pass. Miguel was sitting right beside you, and you didn’t remember the last time one of you had said a word until he broke the silence again. God this kid loves to talk doesn’t he?

“You don’t actually hate me, right?”

“Are we still on about that?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about. I don’t know anything about you.”

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I go to West Valley High. I'm stuck inside my house right now."

“Wow now I know everything there is to know, thank you,” he returned with sarcasm.

“What do you wanna know?” It had to be the peak of boredom, engaging in small talk with Miguel Diaz of all people. What was this, 21 questions?

“Well what kind of music do you like?”

“Little bit of everything I guess. Rock, pop, whatever.”

“You like 80’s rock?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. My sensei showed it to me and it’s been my favorite.”

You didn’t mean to laugh.

“What?”

“Just weird. Sensei.”

“Well that’s the word.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Thought about what?”

“Joining Cobra Kai.”

This time you made sure to laugh loudly. “Yeah. Would be a dream come true.”

“What’s so wrong with Cobra Kai?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Diaz, Cobra Kai has helped Aisha a lot. But honestly it just seems like it recruits nerds and turns them into self-conceited jerks.”

“Um would I be one of those self-conceited jerks?”

“Sure.”

“Have I done anything to you? I don’t-”

“You haven’t. But just- everyone keeps praising you for everything. And you didn’t let it get to your head? I don’t buy it.”

“People don’t praise me for everything. I've gotten beaten up a fair amount."

“Whatever.”

“Well what’s your favorite color?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“It’s a valid question.”

“What’s yours?”

“Orange.”

“That’s lame.”

“What's yours then?”

“Y/F/C.”

“That’s lamer.”

“Very funny.” You mocked him, but realized you were actually smiling.

He opened a smile of his own. “See? I’m not that bad.”

“You’re bearable.”

“That’s progress.” There was a pause. “Well you should come to practice some day.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To see that you’re wrong! We’re like family. I’ve never had anything like that before Cobra Kai.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’ll happen. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

[. . .]

“Yes mom I know. Yes he’s still here. Of course I’m not gonna let him go out in this weather. No, are you sure? But where will you- fine. But please talk to me. Right, love you.”

“So?”

“She's gonna have to stay there until things get better.”

“What? Is it still that bad?”

“Apparently. There were like a bunch of car accidents around the buildings.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

[. . .]

“This is so fucking boring.”

“Do you have any games on your phone or something?”

“You sound like a little kid.”

“Shut up.” He totally did.

“What is it?’

“What?”

“Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring at you.”

“You were! Weirdo.”

There was a pause. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you think my hoodie looks good on me.”

“No?" You tried.

“Then why why’d you say it?”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“You know if you actually gave me a chance I think we could be good friends.”

“Yeah in your dreams, Diaz. I’d probably kill you.”

He actually had the nerve to laugh at you. “Yeah I don’t think you could.”

“I think I could!” You tried defending yourself, but you knew it was complete bullshit. I mean, have you seen his arms?

Not that you’d been looking!

Obviously not.

“Did you forget I literally do karate almost every single day?”

You shrugged in fake disdain. “Still think I could take you.”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay.” He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You shot him a confused look. “What, prove it then!”

“No I’m not doing that.”

“So you’re admitting you can’t take me.”

You knew you couldn’t, but you also doubted he’d go too hard on you. Plus this was a matter of pride now, you couldn’t just let him have that. He knew exactly how to push your buttons to get you to do this. You immediately took his hand, standing up as well. “I said I could.”

“Alright. Come on," he challenged you, getting in a fighting stance, and you tried your best to mimic him, holding your hands in fists in front of your body. He laughed at that, reaching to change the position of your hands. “Okay this,” he said as he moved them just a little bit, “could break your thumbs.”

“Fine. That good enough, sensei?” You mocked, and the boy made a funny expression at that, but quickly snapped out of it.

“Okay, so I’m gonna try to sweep your leg, like this,” he pretended to do the motion, “and what you’re gonna do is block my leg with your right arm, like this,” he did the same with the new movement.

“This isn’t a karate lesson, just fight me!”

“Alright, whatever you say. You ready?”

You were not. “Yup.”

Okay, terrible idea.

In no time he’d done as he said, and your back was immediately pressed to the floor, with no time to even process it happening.

Still, you weren’t gonna just not get a little fun out of it. “You got lucky."

He dared to laugh at you again, before sticking out his hand for you to take. You couldn’t contain a grin as you pulled him to the floor beside you, laughing at his surprise when you were successful.

“Oh I see how it is!” He exclaimed, laughing. You were already starting to stand up, but he tackled you to the floor again, hovering over you.

“Jerk!” You punched him on the chest, playfully, but you were both laughing, despite both being extremely out of breath. You tried to catch him by surprise again, and went to flip your positions, but he was quicker, pinning you to the floor by both your wrists. It was no use then, when he was clearly stronger than you.

But then something really, really weird happened. After your laughter calmed down, it was impossible not to take notice of how the two of you looked right now.

It’s like you had to think about it a second time for the situation to actually click: he was on top of you, having you quite literally pinned under him by your wrists, practically straddling you at that point, with his knees on the floor on either side of your hips.

You looked up at him, and he was staring at your face. Intently so.

For some reason you couldn’t get yourself to look away. It lasted a ridiculously long time, the eye contact, or at least that’s what it felt like, and you were still out of breath from the play fighting, your brain trying to catch on to the situation you were in.

You could swear you saw him glance down at your lips, fueling the tension that was already inherently thick in the air between you. You immediately tried to rid yourself of the thought, as it was probably ridiculous- but then he did the last thing you’d expect him to do.

He actually leaned in.

And you did something even weirder than that: you actually let him do it.

In a second his lips were on yours, and he almost lost his balance as you got your wrists free of his grip, instinctively reaching for the back of his head, intertwining your fingers to his hair.

The adrenaline of it all was thrilling, and it was like your brain had stopped stopped working altogether. After all if you had been functioning normally you would not find yourself in this situation.

No matter. At that moment all you were really worried about was kissing him. You kissed him back, and then you did it again, and again, and again, until you had to pull away to breathe, your chest heaving up and down, as did his, and your breaths being the only sound heard around the entire house, much louder than the now muffled sound of the rain and thunder outside.

And then you made eye contact again and it seemed as what just happened downed on you, all at once.

You had just kissed Miguel Diaz.

No, much worse: you had just made out with Miguel Diaz. On your bedroom floor.

Ooooooooh, no.

Your eyes went wide and you were quick to push him away, standing up.

“Are you-”

You cut him off immediately. “I’ll be right back."

“But-”

“I’ll be right back!” You repeated yourself. “You can go uh- looking for your socks or whatever if you want.”

“Are you serious-” you made your way out of the bedroom, straight into the first room you took sight off- the bathroom. You made sure to lock the door before you sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall.

Okay, so that just happened. You just kissed Miguel Diaz. No, actually, you just kissed Miguel Diaz back. He kissed you. But then again you kissed back. But he kissed you first, which means he was attracted to you? Did that mean you were attracted to him? No, you- okay, maybe.

Shit, shit, shit.

You pulled out your phone, scrambling to find Aisha’s contact. You hesitated before sending anything, knowing she'd tease you about this until the end of time , but Miguel was right outside and you had no idea how to face him after this. Holding your breath, you pressed send.

y/n

i did something

She took a minute to reply, and you jumped when you heard the sound of the notification.

aisha

okay should i be worried

y/n

um depends

aisha

okay im definitely worried did you actually kill him

y/n

no

aisha

then what did you do did you kick him out?

y/n

also no

aisha

girl just fucking say it!!!! i dont have time for this

y/n

okay but you cant say i told you so

aisha

youre definitely worrying me

y/n

he migthve kissed me

aisha

IM SORRY WHAT WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE KISSED YOU WHAT WHAT DID YOU DO????

y/n

i,,, might have kissed him back

and we mightve made out like a little bit

aisha

YOU DID NOT ARE YOU JOKING? ILL LITERALLY MURDER YOU IF YOU ARE

y/n

why would i joke about that?????????? you think i wanted this to happen???

aisha

well clearly you did????

y/n

no!!!!!

aisha

why would you have kissed back then?????

y/n

i dont know!!!!!! reflex?????

aisha

yeah right

was it reflex to KEEP kissing him back????

im gonna call you

y/n

no hes still here!!!!!!

Your phone rang, and you were quick to decline.

y/n

hes still here! hes gonna hear us!!!

aisha

omfg what are you gonna do

y/n

die maybe?

aisha

i knew you were into him

y/n

i am not!!!! into him!!!!!! HE kissed ME!!!

aisha

and you kissed back!!!!

y/n

that doesn’t mean anything!!!!

aisha

yes it does???????

“Y/n?”

Fuck. He was right outside the bathroom door.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m great Diaz. Go look for your socks.”

“Yeah um- I found them.”

“Cool.”

“Hey it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it, I shouldn’t have-”

“Yeah, you shouldn't have.”

“I mean you… kind of did kiss back.”

Silence. What could you reply to that?

“Can we not? Talk about it.”

“Uh. Fine?"

“Okay. I’m coming out then. And we can finish the movie.”

“Sure. The sky’s clearing up too so.”

“Okay.”

You unlocked the door, inhaling deeply before opening it.

[. . .]

“Why did I let you do this? This is weird!” You whispered to Aisha, making sure the others didn't hear you. You'd let her convince you to sit with her friends from Cobra Kai during lunch, claiming it was the best way for you to seem ‘chill’ about what had happened. You were immediately regretting it.

You’d agreed not to talk about what happened at your place the night before, but things were still pretty awkward with Miguel, and it was really, really visible. Hawk had been stealing small glances at you, then immediately averting his eyes to Miguel, and so you were sure Miguel had told him all about it. Sure, you'd told Aisha too, but whatever.

He was probably bragging about it or something, in typical fuckboy fashion. Or something.

“It’s literally fine! You’re seeing things.”

“I’m not seeing things! It’s literally so awkward!”

“You can't avoid him forever!”

“I don't have to sit with him at lunch either!”

[. . .]

You’d almost considered yourself lucky for not having had to see Miguel in any other instance during the rest of the day, even congratulating yourself on managing to avoid him when he, of course, approached you at the exit.

“Y/n!”

You stopped, sighing in defeat. “Yes?”

“Are we cool?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean it seems like you’re acting weird, I don't know.”

“Does it really matter to you? We're not friends, so.”

“Okay. But we- was it that bad?”

“What?”

“That I kissed you, are you that mad about it?”

Your eyes widened and you looked around, trying to see if anyone around you heard him. “I told you I didn’t wanna talk about that!”

“Well let’s just solve it so we don’t have to! I thought you wanted it too. I mean it- it seemed like you did at the moment but now I don’t know and I’m really sorry if-“

“Look I don’t know what happened okay? You don’t have to feel bad about it or anything, you didn’t read it wrong. But it was a one time thing. It I’m trying to be more friendly with you guys because of Aisha, but there’s nothing more to it. It was just a heat of the moment thing.” You turned around, already starting to walk before he had the chance to talk more.

Of course he still yelled after you. “You should go see us today!”

Okay, big change of subject. “What?”

“At the dojo. We have practice at five.”

You were the one to not get the time to say anything back this time, him hopping on his bike and getting on his way.

Well, should you?

[. . .]

“This is stupid.”

“You’re just watching!” Aisha said, trying to cheer you up. “I can’t believe I couldn’t get you to come see me but Miguel could.”

“That’s not what’s going on.”

“Right.”

“It’s not! Did I not sit with your friends at lunch today? I’m making an effort. For you.”

“And only for me.” She didn't sound like she believed it at all.

“Only for you.”

She let out a laugh, and you elbowed her arm. You got to the place, entering the door, which made a bell sound out. You couldn't help but notice the ridiculous amount of snake drawings, which was apparently the dojo’s logo, that were scattered on the walls. Despite that, the place looked decent.

You caught sight of writing on one of the walls.

“That like your mantra?”

Strike first. Strike Hard. No mercy. Very inviting.

“Something like that.”

“Not violent at all,” you pointed out.

“What's the point of karate if it’s not violent?”

“Isn't that LaRusso's whole thing? Non- violent karate?”

“Well he’s stupid, so that fits.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna-”

“QUIET!” A man you hadn’t seen walk in shouted, startling you and all the students.

“Ms. Robinson, who are we missing?”

Aisha looked around. “Hawk and Miguel, sensei.”

“Okay. They have three minutes.” He seemed to finally take notice of you. “New student?”

“Y/N’s my friend, sensei-” did they have to refer to him as sensei in every single sentence?

“Yeah I'm just here to watch-”

“What are you, a pussy?”

“Sensei!”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, dumbfounded. Okay, what was happening?

“Don’t think you can handle one class?”

“I don’t-”

“If you’re staying in my dojo, you’re participating.”

You looked at Aisha. “I mean it can’t hurt,” was all she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you kidding me-” At that very moment you heard the bell again, turning around to see who it was. Of course the timing was immaculate. Hawk and Miguel entered the dojo, taking their shoes off and stepping into the mat. You turned back around to face Aisha. “Do I have to take my shoes off?”

“Yeah.”

You did it quickly, before getting back to your place. Were you really about to do this? And what for? Because you couldn’t say no to a scary old man?

Because you couldn’t say no to…

Nevermind.

“Alright quiet! Fighting positions!”

Everything was happening way too fast, and you tried to keep up, trying to remember the stance Miguel had helped you with the night before. Sensei walked through the rows of kids, all dressed in those weird clothes except for you, which naturally drove his attention to you, to which he laughed. “Yeah do that and you'll leave a fight with two broken thumbs.” Right.

Just to prove your luck, Sensei Lawrence had a fantastic idea. “Diaz, you’re in charge of teaching her the first moves. I’m teaching these nerds here how to headbutt. Again.”

“Yes, sensei!”

You were accepting it, the Universe had to be having the time of its infinite life at your expense. Miguel walked up to you, sporting a smirk. “You came.”

“Because Aisha asked me to.”

“Right. Of course.” You both walked off to the side of the mat, as to not disturb the rest of the class. “Alright, fighting stance.”

You made sure to make a face before you did as he said, remembering to leave your thumbs out of your fists this time. You were not giving him the satisfaction of correcting you about that again.

“Okay, that’s good. But you gotta-” he pushed your feet further behind with his own. “Okay. Now the most simple punches you’re gonna do are the jab and the cross. You’re gonna do the jab like this-” he showed it, punching the air with his left hand, “and the cross is gonna go like this,” he did the same, with his right hand this time. “But you’re gonna punch this,” he motioned to the punching bag in front of you.

“Oh, I kinda hoped I'd get to punch you!”

He smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time for that.” He positioned himself behind the punching bag, holding it in place.

"Do I have to do the weird grunt noises too?" You messed with him.

“Just go.”

You tried you best, not really having any idea what to do.

“Okay stop.”

“What?”

He came up beside you. “Okay pay attention.” He did the movements, slowly this time. “You’re letting your hand punch down. It’s supposed to stay just in your eyesight.”

“So like this?” You tried it.

“Yeah but don’t bend your elbow. You could sprain it that way.”

“What? I don’t-”

“And you really thought you could take me?”

“Shut up. I could report you to your sensei, you know.”

“I’m the sensei right now.”

“In your dreams.”

“Come on, you can do it.” He took you by surprise as he placed a hand on your waist, pressuring it down so your legs would stay steady, and grabbed your right hand with the other one. You tried not to think too hard about it. It was a little hard focusing on what he wanted to teach you when you knew what it was like to- no. No wandering there.

He curled your fingers into a fist. “Okay so your hand will already be in a fist, right here, and then what you’re gonna do is hold it out in a straight line, you can’t let it fall down-”

[. . .]

“You can admit it, you know?”

“Admit what?”

“You liked it.”

“What?”

“Karate.” Oh. Right. Karate.

“I would never.”

“You totally did!”

“Okay. Fine. A little. But I think it definitely would have been better if I had a better teacher.”

“A better sensei, you mean,” he pressed you about it, earning an eye-roll from you.

“Whatever.”

“Are you gonna keep doing it?”

“What?”

“Are you like enrolling?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“Cool.”

“Why, do you wanna see me that bad?”

He let out a laugh. “Yeah, whatever you say."

[. . .]

A couple weeks had gone by, and you had agreed to go to the movies with Aisha and her friends- well, you guessed now they were your friends too. The two of you were the first to get there, and were standing in line to get popcorn when Hawk and Miguel walked up to you. “I didn’t know you were coming,” Miguel pointed out.

“Do you not have other friends you can talk to?”

“You act like you were forced to be here.”

“I could have been!”

“I don’t think you were.”

You didn’t have a snarky reply to that.

“So sensei was talking to me about putting you in for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah cause you missed on tuesday?”

“Oh right! Stupid project.”

“Yeah. Well apparently he has stuff to do so he asked if I could help you out.”

You laughed in an exaggerated manner. “Oh there’s no way.”

“It was sensei’s idea!” Miguel defended himself.

“And it’s a bad one! No way.”

Aisha turned to you, handing you a huge popcorn for you to hold. She then handed Miguel two cups, and all of you went on your way.

“Look the dojo’s empty at three. You should be there then.” He walked past you and sat down next to Hawk.

[. . .]

“You showed up!”

“Yeah whatever.” You put your backpack down on the floor and took your shoes off, walking into the mat.

“You’re not wearing your gi,” he pointed out just to mess with you.

“You’re not wearing yours.”

“But I’m the sensei today.”

“Yeah you don’t look very sensei-like to me.”

“What would look sensei-like to you?” He got himself in fighting position as he talked, and you made sure to do the same.

“I don’t know. A little buffer, less of a pussy,” you teased him.

“Hey watch your words! We’re serious people in this dojo!” He laughed. “Alright left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross and hook, all of them three times. You ready?”

You tried to make sure you remembered the order correctly. “Is the hook before of after the cross?”

“After.”

“Right, so left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook.”

“Yeah. Now go.” You did it. “Okay good! Is someone… enjoying karate?”

“Shut up.”

He smiled. “Alright I’m gonna block you this time.”

You repeated the sequence. Left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook. Left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook.

Left front kick, right round kick, jab, mat.

Mat?

“That’s not fair you were just gonna block!” You exclaimed after processing the fact that he’d just tackled you to the floor.

“You forgot to keep your guard up.”

“Whatever.” You began standing up.

“What, can’t take it?”

“Is little Miguel Diaz being mean to someone?”

“I’m just pointing out your weaknesses so you can work on them.”

“Because you’re just perfect, aren't you?”

“Do me then.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I-” he closed his eyes shut and pursed his lips together at the poor choice of words. “Do the same thing to me.”

“I don’t know, I’m starting to think you’re like into pain or something.”

“Yeah whatever you say. Come on.”

He did the sequence this time, and you blocked the movements, waiting for the chance to catch him by surprise. You did it while he was going for it the second time around, grabbing him by the wrist and attempting to pull it down, but he was quicker.

Best fighter in the Valley, after all.

In no time you were on the ground again. Fucker.

“I told you! It’s good practice though.” He was laughing at you, and held out his hand for you to take when he noticed you weren’t standing up.

You grinned. “Do you never learn?” You did the same as you'd done that one day at your house, pulling him to the floor next to you.

“Okay that was rude!”

“You practically asked for it!” You laughed like crazy as you stood up. “I can’t believe you fell for that twice!”

“Okay, fine.” He held his hand up again. “You not gonna help me?”

“Nope. I, for one, am not dumb.”

He got up. “Oh you’re gonna regret that.”

[. . .]

"Hey are you- are you doing something right now?" Miguel questioned you as he finshed turning the lights off.

"Not really. Why?"

"Do you... want to?"

"Like right now?"

"I mean I think we could both use a shower first but- later?"

"Why?"

"I'm just bored. You don't have to."

You pondered it. Aisha did have to bail on you to go to dinner with her dad. "Fine."

"What- okay."

You laughed as he finished locking the door of the dojo. "What?"

"Didn’t think you’d say yes."

"I can still change my mind."

"Yeah right. You like hanging out with me!"

"Hey don’t get too confident, I just don’t have anything else to do."

"And I don't believe you. Golf ‘n’ Stuf. In like an hour?"

"I don’t know. I might not show up," you teased.

"Yeah I'll see you there!" He yelled, content, already ahead of you on his bike.

[. . .]

“I knew it.”

You turned around where you stood, only to see Miguel behind you, a grin on his face. “You’re annoying. I’ve told you that before, right?”

“Yeah. Many times.”

“Just checking.”

“So?” Miguel held up his arm for you to lace your own with. As if. You scoffed, walking past him, leaving him to jog after you into the park.

“Okay what first?”

“Oh you’re letting me pick?” He asked you. Okay, you had to give it to him, he wasn’t as insufferable when he matched your sarcastic attitude a little bit. Or maybe he was more insufferable and you just liked to see him not be as nice.

“Yes I’m very polite.”

“Well then we’re doing mini golf.”

“Are you forty-five?”

“This place literally has golf in the name, what did you expect?” He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you along.

[. . .]

“Okay I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many tickets in my entire life,” Miguel exclaimed, holding up what looked like at least 80 tickets, all bunched up. You studied the excitement on his face. Fine, so maybe you had a little fun. Just a little. And maybe you thought he looked stupidly cute right now.

Maybe.

You walked up to the counter. He looked at your prize options. “So what do you want? We can get like 53 rings or like 72 plastic… babies? Why would anyone want 72 plastic babies?”

You let out a laugh. “I don’t know, I-” you saw it by the corner, almost hidden. It was perfect. “Ohmygod definitely that guy!” You pointed at it, and the woman behind the counter handed it to Miguel.

He held up the plush bumblebee. “He’s cute! What should we name him?”

“Um… Phillip?”

“What no! That’s so not a bee name.”

“What the hell would a bee name be?”

“Zoe?”

“Okay first off that’s so cliche. Second off, he’s a boy!”

“How would you know that?” You’d been walking for a while, and finally got outside, sitting down on a bench.

“I decided it!”

“Okay. What can we name him then?”

“Oh my God, Lucas!”

“Okay, I think I can accept Lucas.”

“You don’t have a say on my son’s name!”

“Hey he’s our son!”

“I don’t know, we’d have to take a DNA test.”

“Shit have you been cheating on me?”

“Yeah I’m sorry…” you tried to match his playfulness.

There was silence for a moment.

“You know this was actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah I was surprised.” You were teasing, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

“So you liked it? Who knew.”

“Oh shut it. It was okay.”

“You totally did!”

“Okay, whatever. Now we need to discuss Lucas’ custody situation. I’m getting dibs on weekends!” You tried to joke, but Miguel’s mind seemed to be wandering off. “Miguel? Hello?” You waved your hand in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just- can I tell you something?”

“Okay.”

“I have a theory. You can say I’m wrong. But you can’t get mad at me about it.”

“Okay I’m getting worried.”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

“Well I’ve thought about it, and I might be being a little hopeful. But I’m pretty sure you might have a crush on me.”

You laughed in disbelief. Did he really just say that to you? “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just a theory! I want you to! I’m- am I wrong?”

You didn’t reply. Because you didn’t know the answer. Did you- wait. “You want me to?”

“I- mean I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but. It would be nice. And I know you still don’t like to talk about that one time we kissed and all but things have been pretty confusing.”

“Because you have a thing for me.”

“Okay, I get it, it's fine if you don’t-”

Maybe it was not exactly the brightest idea to do something so important so suddenly, without sparing a thought before you did. But, when you knew it, your lips were on his.

It was calmer, softer than the first time you’d done it. Miguel was the one to pull away, smiling into the kiss. He stared at you, and you were nervous. You wanted to tell yourself you didn’t know where that came from, like you’d told yourself had happened that day at your place before attempting to bottle it up. But you knew.

You didn’t realize it, but in those weeks you hung out, you got to actually know him. And at some point you must have started liking him. A few weeks was definitely enough to change your perspective on some things.

You assumed he felt the same, considering the things he said.

… but maybe you read him wrong?

“What?” You asked, insecure, when he didn’t say anything.

He grinned. “You totally have a crush on me!”

You let out a breath in relief.

Okay, yeah, maybe Miguel Diaz wasn’t that bad after all. And maybe you could get yourself used to the thought of going out with him.

Maybe.

[. . .]

A/N: edited the fuck outta this one before posting, my ideas were good but my writing was pretty shit at the time. I think I was like 16/17 when I wrote this one. shits crazy. luv yall