#carrying it with her from room to room on her phone

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii, I see that your req is open :). Can I request for seventeen 14th member that got into car accident and the other member's reaction?

Signed with Worry | Seventeen x 14thMember | angst, fluff

tw: car accident, hospital

Seungcheol’s phone buzzed on the table, an unknown number flashing on the screen. Frowning, he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Choi Seungcheol?”

The serious tone of the woman’s voice immediately put him on edge. “Yes, who’s this?”

“This is Nurse Kim from Seoul General Hospital.”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Seoul General? Why—what happened? Is someone hurt?”

There was a brief pause before she responded, voice calm but firm. “I’m calling regarding Y/N. We need you to come in as soon as possible to sign her discharge papers.”

His heart dropped. “Discharge papers? What—why is she there? What happened to her?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but for safety and privacy reasons, I can’t disclose medical details over the phone. The doctor will explain everything once you arrive.”

Seungcheol felt a lump form in his throat. His mind was racing with worst-case scenarios. “But—she’s okay, right? Please, just tell me if it’s serious.”

A small pause. “She’s stable.”

That wasn’t enough. But it was all he was going to get.

“I’ll be there right away.”

By the time he hung up, his face was pale. The room had gone silent, all twelve members staring at him in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” Joshua asked carefully.

“Hospital,” Seungcheol said, his voice tight. “Y/N’s there.”

The reaction was instant.

“What?!” Hoshi’s eyes widened.

“Why?” Mingyu demanded.

“I don’t know.” Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair. “The nurse wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”

That was all it took for them to grab their things and run out the door.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital, the thirteen of them stormed through the entrance, heading straight for the reception desk.

“Y/N L/N,” Seungcheol said breathlessly. “She’s supposed to be discharged. Where is she?”

The nurse behind the desk barely blinked at the group of frantic men in front of her. “She’s in room 304, waiting for her discharge paperwork.”

Before she could say anything else, they were already rushing down the hall.

Pushing open the door to room 304, Seungcheol felt his chest tighten at the sight of Y/N sitting on the hospital bed, fully dressed, a small bandage on her forehead.

She blinked in surprise when she saw all thirteen of them pile into the room.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “I was expecting just Seungcheol.”

“Too bad,” Jeonghan muttered, arms crossed.

“Are you okay?” DK asked immediately, scanning her up and down.

Y/N sighed. “Guys, I’m fine. It was just a small accident.”

“Small accident?!” Seungkwan’s voice cracked. “You’re in a hospital!”

“They’re literally discharging me right now,” she said.

Before the panic could escalate, the doctor walked in, surprised to see so many people squeezed into the small room.

“Ah, you must be Y/N’s family?” he said, glancing at Seungcheol.

“She has thirteen very worried brothers,” Joshua answered.

The doctor chuckled. “Well, to ease your concerns—Y/N was in a minor car accident. She sustained a mild concussion and a small cut on her forehead that required two stitches. Other than that, she’s in good condition and cleared to go home.”

The members let out a collective breath, relief washing over them.

Mingyu, still not convinced, clapped his hands together. “Okay! I’m carrying her to the car.”

“For the last time, no,” Y/N groaned. “I can walk.”

“But—”

“She said no,” Seungcheol cut in, still in protective leader mode. “Let’s just take her home before one of you actually gives the hospital a reason to keep us here.”

As they left the hospital together, the tension finally eased, replaced by their usual playful bickering. Despite everything, Y/N couldn’t help but smile—she might have gotten hurt, but she’d never felt safer.

[loveesiren]

𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍.2)

Choi Seunghyun x f!reader x Kwon Jiyong | Masterlist

a/n: Here's part two! I feel like this part is slightly boring but I needed to write it to continue lol. I've also just been off the past few days and I'm trying to get back into the right mood so I'm sorry if this sucks. I'll try to have part 3 out ASAP!

synopsis: Y/n struggles escape her guilty conscience of the secret her and Jiyong carry. Meanwhile, Seunghyun is oblivious and head over heels for Y/n.

warnings: Language, angst, mention of sex, some fluff at the end

wc: 2.2k+

The shrill blare of your alarm yanked you from the depths of sleep, your body aching, your mind groggy with exhaustion. Your hand instinctively shot out, fumbling blindly until you slammed the snooze button, plunging the room back into an uneasy silence. A tired groan slipped from your lips as you shifted under the sheets, ready to drift back into oblivion—until you felt it.

A warmth beside you.

Your stomach twisted violently as you rolled over, your pulse spiking when your eyes landed on the figure sprawled out next to you. Jiyong.

His bare torso was partially covered by the sheets, the same sheets that reeked of sweat, sex, and the mistakes of last night. His face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Without the cocky smirk, without the biting words, he almost looked…peaceful. Almost.

But the moment you registered the ache between your legs, the bruises forming on your hips, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your skin, shame crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Last night came rushing back in a flood of memories—Seunghyun’s gentle smile, the way he looked at you with admiration and patience. The way you had laughed, talked, felt like a real person again, not just some dirty little secret. And then Jiyong. His scent. His touch. His words whispered against your lips as he dragged you back into the cycle of ruin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. God, you hated yourself.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed your phone, your fingers moving on autopilot as you typed out a text to your boss.

Can’t come in today. Migraine.

It was a weak excuse, but you prayed he wouldn’t question it. You never took a day off. Maybe he’d let this one slide.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Fine, but I need the final drafts by midnight tomorrow.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. You set the phone down and turned to face the bigger issue at hand.

“Jiyong, get up,” you snapped, your voice ice-cold as you slammed your foot into his calf.

He groaned in protest, rolling onto his side with a sleepy scowl. “What the fuck, Y/n?”

“Get out.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the morning stillness like a blade.

Jiyong blinked at you, disoriented but quickly catching on. His smirk returned, lazy and infuriating. “Is that really how you treat the guy who made you cum three times last night?” His voice was drenched in amusement, in satisfaction. In ownership.

Your stomach churned, your skin burning with humiliation. You turned away, grabbing your clothes off the floor, yanking them on in a frenzy. Jiyong propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips.

“You look tense.” he teased, stretching his arms above his head, his toned stomach flexing. “You wanna fuck it out?”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not coming in today. And this—this is over. So get up and get out of my house.”

Jiyong tilted his head, his long, fading orange hair falling into his eyes. The same hair you were responsible for touching up, though the thought of being that close to him again made bile rise in your throat.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” His tone was nonchalant, but there was something else lurking beneath it.

“I need a fucking day off—from you. From everything.” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “I had a nice time with Seunghyun last night. And then you just—you just showed up and ruined it.”

He scoffed. “Ruined it? You were begging me to fuck you, Y/n.”

You flinched. He always knew exactly where to strike.

“That was the last fucking time, Jiyong. I’m serious.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then, his gaze flickered to the bedside table, to the black dahlia wilting from neglect. His smirk curled slightly.

“I helped him pick that out, you know.” He gestured lazily toward the flower. “Told him you liked dahlias. He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Still don’t know why you did that,” you murmured, your voice laced with suspicion. “Maybe just stay out of our business.”

His eyes darkened. “He’s my best friend. He comes to me for advice.” A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. “I mean, next time I could just tell him how to fuck you right—since I know all about that.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you seethed.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Your chest heaved. “Why do you even care, Jiyong?! You hate me. I hate you. This was all just meaningless fucking sex!”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Jiyong’s jaw tightened. His nostrils flared, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For the first time, he had nothing to say.

“I like Seunghyun. I really do,” you continued, your voice shaking. “And I’d like to see him again. But I can’t do that if you’re still lurking around, so just—just fuck off! Find someone else to fuck!”

Something flashed in his eyes, something raw, something dangerous—but then it was gone.

“Fine,” he spat, his smirk returning, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve got plenty of girls. I don’t need you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Never needed you.” You mumbled, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. 

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh, but it was hollow. Without another word, he grabbed his clothes, yanked them on, and stormed toward the door. The slam of it rattled the walls.

The moment he was gone, your legs gave out. You sank to the floor, your hands clutching at your hair, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The weight of it all came crashing down, pressing against your chest like a thousand bricks.

It was over.

And yet—you knew it wasn’t. Not completely.

You crawled toward the bathroom, your limbs feeling like lead. The moment you stepped into the shower, you let the scorching water cascade over your skin, washing away the remnants of last night. You sat against the tile, knees pulled to your chest, silent sobs wracking your body.

You had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Two hours passed before you finally emerged, your body scrubbed raw, but the filth of Jiyong still clung to you like a second skin. You numbly went through your routine, pulling on sweats and a tank top, throwing your sheets into the wash.

Your phone sat untouched on the counter. You braced yourself before picking it up, expecting an onslaught of messages—Jiyong’s wrath, Seunghyun’s confusion, your boss demanding answers.

Instead, there was just one.

Seunghyun: Hey, I heard you weren’t feeling good. Hopefully it’s not from the restaurant. I hope you feel better soon! It’s boring without you here.

Your chest ached. He didn’t know. Not yet.

No, it’s not from the restaurant. Just a headache. I had a great time last night!

You lied.

Not about having a great time with Seunghyun—you had. Those few hours with him had felt like stepping into a life you wanted so desperately to claim as your own. A life that was simple, warm, untouched by the filth of your past mistakes. But the reason you weren’t at work? That was a lie.

You weren’t sick.

You were avoiding the inevitable.

Jiyong knew how to be cruel when he wanted to be. And if he decided to open his mouth, your world would come crumbling down. Your stomach twisted at the thought of it. Everyone would know. Your boss, your coworkers, Seunghyun.

Seunghyun.

You didn’t even want to think about how he would react. The betrayal in his eyes, the disappointment. Would he hate you? Would he turn his back on you? On his best friend?

You pushed the thought away, forcing yourself into work. You needed a distraction, something to pull you away from the anxiety chewing at your insides. Music blared from the speakers, filling the silence as you lost yourself in sketching, your pencil moving in sharp, deliberate strokes.

You had finished Daesung’s outfit first, moving onto Taeyang’s and Seungri’s with ease. Designing for them was simple, almost soothing. You knew their style, their personalities, the energy they brought to the stage. It was second nature to you.

But then came the last two pages of your sketchbook.

Seunghyun and Jiyong.

Your fingers lingered on Seunghyun’s page, your pencil tracing meaningless details—adding unnecessary stitching to his jacket, shading in areas that didn’t need shading, elongating the shape of the silhouette. You knew you were procrastinating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flip the page just yet.

You liked being on this page. Here, there was no shame, no regret, no mistakes. Just clean lines and the promise of something new.

But eventually, you had to move forward.

The moment you flipped to Jiyong’s page, your stomach clenched.

You stared at the half finished sketch you’d started, your fingers tightening around your pencil. Designing for him was always easy. You knew his style better than anyone, could predict his fashion choices before he even made them. But now, looking at this page, it felt impossible.

How could you design something for a man you wanted so desperately to erase from your memory?

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sketch. You kept it simple, precise—dark, sleek lines, something effortlessly cool and arrogant, just like him. Just like the man his fans adored. Not the man who whispered filthy things into your ear, not the man who knew exactly how to ruin you, over and over again.

But even as you sketched, his voice echoed in your head.

"He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do."

Your grip on the pencil tightened. God, you hated him.

And yet, the memory of last night still clung to your skin. The bruises on your hips, the soreness between your legs. You hated how good he made you feel, how easy it was to fall into bed with him, how no matter how hard you tried to move on, he always found a way to pull you back in.

You shook your head, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste copper.

You just had to finish this.

Just as you were adding the final touches, the doorbell rang.

You jolted upright, blinking down at your sketchbook as if just realizing where you were. Pushing it aside, you stood, rubbing the stiffness from your neck before making your way to the door.

You weren’t expecting company.

When you swung the door open, the sight before you made your breath hitch.

Seunghyun.

He stood there, a bag of takeout in one hand and yet another flower in the other. This time, a purple tulip, its petals delicate between his fingers.

“Seunghyun!” you breathed, your voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I felt bad you weren’t feeling well today, so I thought maybe some ramen would help?” He lifted the bag slightly before extending the flower. “And, uh… I picked this from someone’s garden on the way here.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

"You stole a flower for me?"

He chuckled, his ears turning pink. "Borrowed. I’ll return it if they notice."

Your fingers curled around the stem, bringing the tulip to your nose as you giggled, the gesture so undeniably him. "This is really sweet, Seunghyun."

“If you’d like some company, I’m free.” He paused, suddenly unsure. “But if you’re not up for it, I totally understand.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No, I am!”

His face brightened at your enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Come in.” You needed the distraction.

Seunghyun followed you inside, his presence filling your small apartment with warmth. As he placed the food on the counter, you searched for a vase, already feeling guilty about the black dahlia wilting in your bedroom.

Then, he spoke again.

“Oh, and this was outside your door.”

You turned just as he pulled a white envelope from his pocket, holding it out to you.

“I promise I didn’t look at it,” he added quickly. “I just picked it up so you wouldn’t miss it. Could be something important.”

Your fingers hesitated before taking it from him. It was blank. No address, no name.

Your stomach twisted.

“Uh, Seunghyun… do me a favor?” You tried to keep your voice steady. “Take all this to the living room? Pick us a movie to watch.”

“Sure!” He grinned, easily distracted. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?”

“Something scary!” you called back, waiting until he was out of sight before your fingers pried open the envelope.

Inside, there was something small, cold.

A key.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Not just any key. Your key.

Your heart pounded as you pulled out the folded note tucked inside.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. The handwriting was unmistakable, messy and familiar, like it had been scribbled in a rush.

With trembling fingers, you unfolded it, your eyes scanning the words.

I won’t tell him.

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[girliism]

patrick zweig x reader

-

“oh please pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“hello.”

“oh thank god. i thought you weren’t gonna answer.”

“i’ll always answer for you.”

there was a pause like there always is when either of you says anything a little too intimate.

patrick clears his throat. “but um why are you calling shouldn’t you be at your bachelorette party?”

your sigh echos through the phone. “i’m actually currently hiding out in the bathroom at a stripclub after having three different strippers half hard cocks thrust into my face.”

patrick’s loud laugh fills your ears, and you have to roll your eyes. “so what, do you need a get away driver? want me to come get you?”

you shook your head as if her could see you. “no, no. i just needed a little break from my bridesmaids.” you said the title in a mocking manner. “i thought this wedding stuff was supposed to be fun.” you say quietly.

“you could always come hang out with me.”

before you could respond there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“are you done in there we have to move on to our next location.” you gave a half assed answer back to whoever was at the door would leave.

“i have to go.”

-

the rest of the night you let your bridesmaids drag you around new york before you started to complain.

“seriously you guys i’m so so tired, and my feet hurt. i would love to stay out but i really really can’t.” before they could try and convince you you shut to door in their faces. letting out a loud sigh you threw your bags next to the door.

you got yourself ready for the night. washing away the activities of tonight before slipping into your pajamas.

it was 3 am and you couldn’t sleep. you toss and turn, you count sheep, you even try to get yourself off but couldn’t be further from in the mood. patrick’s words rang through your head. “you could always come hang out with me.”

-

three soft knocks sounded through patrick’s hotel room. he originally ignored them but three more came.

“sorry but i didn’t order room service-” he started, opening the door without look through the peek hole. instead of if being a worker it was you in a navy blue slip dress and white slippers carrying two bottles of champagne.

“still wanna hang out?”

patrick stepped aside to let you in, and as if it were your own room you immediately crawled into his bed settling down. patrick slid in next to you grabbing one of the bottles of champagne, popping it open and taking a big glup. “we should watch 27 dress. since, you know, you’re getting married tomorrow.”

“asshole.” you said unseriously, taking the bottle from him chugging back some of the alcoholic beverage.

you and patrick passed back and forth the bottle of champagne taking sips, and eating from the large basket of fries you guys had ordered. ignoring the way your fingertips would sometimes brush, neither of you moving to separate them just letting them linger for a second.

“i don’t wanna get married.” you say softly, watching as jane nicholas switches between dresses. you feel patrick’s eyes on you but you don’t turn to meet them.

“why?”

you shrug, picking at an imaginary loose thread sighing. patrick in all the years that he’s known you he has never seen you so… unsure. not even when you guys were sixteen and patrick got way to drunk at a charity event and crashed his dads car. you knew exactly what to do and who to call. but right now you just looked defeated.

“i mean, it’s not like it’s even my wedding. all just a business transaction. patrick, i didn’t even get pick my own bridesmaids. oh! and my main of honor is the daughter of some guy my dads trying to close a deal with.” you scoffed, letting out everything you’ve been feeling since the night to said yes to the proposal. “at first i was fine with it but i don’t know anymore.”

you sounded so hopeless and patrick didn’t know what else to do but trace little soothing shapes on your bare knee.

“why didn’t you ask me patrick?”

the question caught him off guard. he knew what you were talking about but it still shocked him.

when your parents had deemed you were getting to old and need to marry because in their words. “you have nothing other skills my dear, the least you can do it marry for the business.” patrick had been their first contending, he always was since the two of you met. he came from a very wealthy family and your fathers were already friends. but patrick said, no.

“i don’t know what you mean-” you cut him off with a scoff and an eye roll. “why. didn’t. you. ask me patrick?” you finally turned to look at him, and said with a small voice. “i wanted you to ask me.”

patrick sat up taking his hand off of you and running it through his hair.

“you— you deserve someone better than me.” patrick shrugged. and it’s true, you did. you deserved someone with a stable life, who’s parents weren’t just waiting for him to give up and join them in the family business. you deserved someone who didn’t live in their fucking car half the time.

“someone better being a man i hardly know.”

patrick’s mouth moved faster than his brain.

“you’ll learn to love him.”

you stare at him shocked. “you sound like my mother.”

the brunette winces but doesn’t say anything. it’s silent as you guys sit there watching the movie but not paying attention before you speak again.

“i deserved you.”

patrick scoffed, shaking his head. “you don’t believe that. you see how i live, paycheck to paycheck. driving around in my broken honda to tennis matches only to lose. you don’t fucking deserve that.”

patrick never thought he was good enough for you not even when he was in his “prime” always thought he was too dumb, too immature, too reckless for you. you who was prefect, never a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in sight.

“you deserve someone who can take care of you, who won’t drag you down. you’re use to a certain way of living and being with me at this moment in my life would bore you. you’d grow to hate me.”

you groan. “have you ever thought that maybe i don’t care about that. i have enough money to take care of myself i don’t need a babysitter.” you covered your face with your hands taking a deep breath. “this probably stupid to say before my wedding but fuck it.” you look him right in the eye.

“patrick i’d live in your smelly honda for the rest of life if it ment being with you. your not the brightest but there’s no way you missed all the years i spent absolutely pinning after you. i love you patrick i’ve loved you since the day i met you in that damn coat closet when you were hiding from your parents and i’m gonna keep loving you.” the tears in your eyes fall slowly down cheeks.

patrick took forever to respond and it had you thinking the worst. he didn’t need to say it you already knew he was gonna reject you.

you scoff a laugh. “i’m so stupid.” you whisper to yourself, moving to get out of the bed and forget this ever happened. but before you could make it fully out patrick’s hand took hold of your wrist yanking you softly in to his embrace.

your lips met patrick’s halfway in a kiss the both of you have been dreaming of for far too long. it started out soft, patrick wanted to take his time molding his lips against yours but you needed him. you snake your hands into his curly hair and pulling him closer to you, dragging his body down on top of yours.

patrick’s body fitted itself in between your legs, one of his hands coming to rest on your hip.

“push me away, tell me to stop.” he said, against the skin of your neck as he tracked kisses down your sternum, bunching your dress up and places them on your stomach. you shook your head, arching up into the touch. “no.” you sucked in a breath when his lips brushes against the waistline of your panties. “i want you. i want you. i want you. i want you.” your chanting turned to moaning when patrick’s face disappeared between your legs.

-

come morning you were gone, the only evidence of you being there was a slight dent in the empty pillow next to patrick’s, and the dull ache on his back that your nails left behind.

“shit.”

his head hurt from his mini hangover and from the knowledge that in a few short hours he’d lose you forever.

he needed to drag himself out of bed and in to the shower then head over to the reception just so see you before you said i do.

-

as much as you had wanted to stay in patrick’s bed and wake up to him you knew you couldn’t. you had a responsibility.

“you look so beautiful, my dear.”

your mother rested her hands on your bare shoulders, placing her smiling face next to yours. your cheeks nearly touching as she looked at you through the mirror. “though i do wish you picked the other dress.”

there it was.

you let out a sigh standing up for vanity. “well, this was the dress i choose can’t you just be happy with that.” your mother came close to you reaching her hand up to yank out a little fly away hair from your scalp. “the other dress was better.” you rolled your eyes when she turned her back to you checking her watch.

“it almost time. remember all you have to do is walk down the aisle and say i do. think you can do that?”

you wanted to say no, you wanted to take off this dress and get out of this stuff room. but instead you bite the inside of your cheek and gave a short nod. she walked to door, opening it before turning back to you for one last piece of advice.

“and don’t forget to smile.”

when the door shut you let out breath you didn’t even know you holding in. you paced back and fourth, the skirt of your dress flowing around you. the door to your dressing room opened causing you to groan expecting to be faced with your mother not a certain brown haired boy you left stranded this morning.

“hey.”

“hi.”

“your dress is nice.”

“thanks.”

you guys stood there staring at each other awkwardly. you didn’t know what to say, patrick was scared to say what he wanted to say.

“so you’re still gonna do this, still gonna get married.” patrick’s question broke the silence. you sighed again for the hundredth time today. “yes, patrick i am. i’ve tried and there’s only so much i can do.” it was taking everything in you to hold back your tears and patrick’s sad puppy like stare wasn’t helping.

“don’t do this.” patrick stepped closer to you grabbing your hands. “please don’t do this.” you let go of hands and threw you arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“thanks for last night, pat.”

patrick buried his face into the crook of you neck, breathing your scent in. his hands flexed against your lower back pushing you closers.

a knock at the door tore you two apart. you gave patrick one last look before leaving there. again.

-

the wedding march plays when you enter the room. everyone standing up from their seats. the two little flower girls skip ahead of you, dropping white rose petals in their wake. multiple pairs of eyes are on you, watching as you walk down the long aisle with your arm linked with your fathers. when you reach the end you hand off your flowers to your mother, place a kiss on your father’s cheek, before taking place in front of your husband to be.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

patrick kinda blacked out the first half of the ceremony. the second you walked out nothing else seemed to matter. you were practically glowing under all the lights, thought the glow didn’t quite reach your eyes. the priest next words seemed to break patrick out of his hypnosis.

“speak now or forever hold your peace” there was a pause, no one in the audience stood up prompting the priest to continue.

“wait, i object.” patrick shot up out of his seat causing everyone to turn and look at him. “patrick!” he ignored his mothers sharp call of his name, moving out of the pews to stand in the middle of the aisle.

“i object.” he this time with more confidence. “you were right last night. you don’t deserve this sham of a marriage. you don’t deserve to get married to guy you’ve known for four months and who makes you wear flats on your wedding day so you don’t appear taller.”

you stifled a laugh.

“i know my life right now is kinda shit, and i was trying to be selfless by letting you go, but fuck it. i love you, i love you so much. so, leave that loser and come with me.” patrick held his hand out.

you didn’t need to think twice before pulling off the ring on your finger and dropping in the hand of the man in front of you.

“what do you think you’re doing.” your mother stopped you half way down the stairs. you looked at her sighed. “something for myself.” you pushed past her, running a little to reach patrick. your hands found each other’s, fingers interlocking as you walked out the reception leaving behind all the confused murmuring.

-

“that would have been really embarrassing if you hadn’t come with me.” patrick joked, grabbing his keys from the valet. “let’s get out of here i’m starving.”

“patrick.”

he stopped and turn to look at you. you reaching forward, your hands grabbing onto his cheeks pulling him in for a kiss.

“i love you.”

patrick couldn’t help the blush and smile that crept onto his face. he took hold of your hands leading you to the passengers seat opening the door for you.

“your chariot my lady.”

you hopped into the passengers seat and patrick slid into the drivers, starting the car and driving away from the dramatic scene he just caused.

-

[animamii]

Hit Different | Eren Jaeger 𝜗𝜚 part deux

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Eren meets his match when Ymir's cousin crashes into his life. Classic playboy meets maneater. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𖹭.ᐟ modern aot verse! college au!

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

The sun is a personal attack. Why the hell does it have to be so damn bright right now? You groan, burrowing deeper into the mess of blankets, only to realize—you don’t remember getting into bed. Hell, you barely even remember leaving the party. Your head throbs in protest as you peel open your eyes, met with unfamiliar floral-patterned sheets and a very judgmental Ymir sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Look who’s finally up,” she monotonously spews, not even glancing at you, just tap, tapping away at her phone. “Thought I was gonna have to throw water on you.”

You blink, sluggish, trying to piece together the events of last night. “Where am I?” Your voice is hoarse, like you swallowed an entire desert. You somehow still taste tequila on your tongue, with the little remnants of your pineapple juice chaser.

"Our guest room, dumb ass. Had to carry your ass in here when you passed out in our bed after I dragged your ass out of that party.” Ymir finally looks up, raising a sharp brow. “Speaking of—what the fuck was that with Eren?”

Your stomach does an annoying little flip, but you mask it with a slow stretch, feigning nonchalance. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Ymir scoffs. “Oh, please. The sexual tension in that kitchen could’ve powered the whole damn party.” She looks at you with an obvious look on her face, as if to say, 'don't fuckin play in my face like I'm stupid and blind'. “Dude was looking at you like he wanted to either fuck you or fight you. Maybe both.”

You snort, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You notice your lashes were taken off, now on the dresser next to you. “Not my fault he’s got a staring problem.”

"Right. So you just happened to flirt with Jean all night while Eren practically set him on fire with his mind?"

Before you can answer, Historia walks in looking suspiciously awake for someone who was blackout drunk last night. She holds out a bottle of water and some aspirin like she does this every weekend. "You look like shit," she chirps.

"Good morning to you too," you mumble, snatching the water and chugging it.

“Did you check your phone yet?” Historia asks, perching on the bed beside you as she holds out the tiny pain killers. Taking them from her hand, you toss them into your mouth, swallowing quickly.

A slight sense of dread creeps in. “No? Why?”

Ymir smirks, flipping her phone screen toward you, showing a group chat notification. Connie added Eren to 'Brunch, Bitches'. You groan at the sight of the name, flopping back onto the pillows. Of course. Because why wouldn’t fate be a petty little shit?

Meanwhileeee— Eren wakes up to a headache and text from Connie like he does every Sunday morning.

Connie: Lmao, you tryna get brunch? Eren: Why the fuck would I do that? Connie: Bc ur little crushy crush is gonna be there 😉 Eren: Blocked Connie: Damn bro just pull up, it’ll be fun

Eren stares at his phone, jaw tight, remembering the way you looked at him last night—how you didn’t look at him until the very last second. His grip tightens on his phone. Fuck it.

Connie: Yo, brunch at that spot on 3rd? You guys down?

Ymir: I’m always down for food, babe. But don't tell me we're going to that weird place again with the mismatched plates.

Eren: 😑 It’s good. Stop being a snob.

Connie: I’ll pass on the weird plates place if you bring your cousin,, I still don’t have her number lol

Ymir: lmao what do you mean you don’t have her number?

Connie: Yeahhhh I haven't actually talked to her much,, she kinda makes me scared 😅

Eren: 🙄 You mean you're scared she’ll turn you down like the others?

Connie: Stfu says the one who threw a tantrum cuz she was flirting with Jean ✋🏽🤨

Eren: ... I'm bouta leave ts.

Connie: Yeah that's what I thought ho!

Ymir: ugh. you two stop being dramatic. I'll bring her if she's not too dead

Ymir added y/n to Brunch, Bitches

Connie: Sounds good to me. Jean can’t make it,, btw. He has work. Told him to leave his ass at the office 🙄

Eren: His loss. Those pancakes are gonna smack, I'm ready asl.

Ymir: same. you guys better be on time this time. 😒

Connie: No promises 🙈😜😚😚🦧

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"So we're all just showing up in pajamas huh?" Ymir stands in the doorway of the room, watching as you lazily curl your lashes, leaning against the headboard in their room.

"Yup," you answer, picking up your mascara and applying a coat. "Besides, this is a track suit. It's like multipurpose."

Ymir raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. “A track suit, huh? I mean, I guess it does have boujie y2k bitch written all over it...”

You smile, finishing the last stroke of mascara and setting the wand back in the tube with a twist. “Exactly. It's basically brunch attire and I could probably go for a run after if I felt like it. Double duty, extra fruity.”

She snorts, shaking her head as she pushes herself off the door frame. “Yeah, sure, but I’m pretty sure the only thing you’re running for today is the nearest mimosa.”

"And you're running into the nearest Hot Topic wearing that damn flannel and sweats." You playfully quip back, tossing the pillow on your lap at your cousin.

"Somebody say something about my flannel?" Historia's soft voice rings into the room as she steps out of the bathroom, hands busy tying her hair into a messy bun. Her eyes are wide and confused, making you smile at her naivety.

Your eyes dart down to the flannel pajama bottoms she wears. "Can you two get any gayer?? Matching flannel to brunch? Really?"

Ymir lets out a bellow, her hand resting on the back of Historia's neck as she kisses the top of her head, causing Historia's eyes to shut as she beams a content smile. "Mad cause we're in loooooveeee?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, lesbians. I'd be gay too if I had a choice," you roll your eyes sardonically as you stand up and slip your uggs on.

"Oh hell no, we don't need any evil femmes. Regina George is that cautionary tale. Stay being straight, the male population needs their repercussions."

You laugh, zipping your sweater up halfway. "I think the world is far better off with a few evil femmes, if I’m being honest. Less competition, more fun."

Ymir grins, lazily shoving her feet into her sneakers. "Exactly. You get it."

Historia chuckles softly from where she stands by the bathroom mirror, finishing up with her hair. "You look like you stepped out of a 2000's paparazzi photo."

You shoot her a dirty look but can’t suppress the childish smile that creeps onto your face. "Yeah, well, at least I’m not going out looking like a damn lumberjack." You point a finger between the two girls.

Ymir twirls around dramatically, causing the flannel to swish with her movement. "Heyyy, leave my lumberjack alone, you know she loves to climb trees."

"Gross, I don't wanna hear my cousin say nasty flirty shit with her girlfriend, Miri. Save your kinky lumberjack fantasy for the bedroom." You hold a hand up as you step out of the couple's room.

Ymir bursts out laughing, following you down the hallway, while Historia’s face flushes a soft pink. "You're the one who started it," Ymir teases, nudging you with her elbow.

You groan dramatically. "Yeah, well, I should’ve known better than to walk into this disaster of a relationship." Throwing yourself onto their couch, you mindlessly scroll through your phone. “Why does it always feel like I’m the third wheel?”

"Because you are our third wheel?" Ymir says like it's obvious, which it is really. "But it's okay we don't mind being a tricycle sometimes." Taking a seat at the other end of the couch, she props her feet up on your lap.

Historia follows behind Ymir, still trying to hide her smile. "We’re not that bad, are we?"

"You're like an over-the-top romcom couple," you retort, rolling your eyes playfully. "But like, one of those ones that you can’t fully hate because they’re just so damn cute."

Ymir, who’s still grinning, tosses a pillow at you. "Hey, we’re adorable, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You place the pillow under Ymir's feet, not wanting her beat up converse to dirty the gray cotton sweats you were wearing. You were going for low effort, not slob. "Just don’t bring your cheesy couple energy into brunch. I’m not in the mood to be the only one single at the table."

"Oh, please, you’ll be just fine," Historia says with a wink as she slides her crocs on. "And besides, who says you have to stay single? You’ve got options. Plenty really. If you actually stopped with these maneater shenanigans." She nudges you gently, giving you a look more serious than you'd like.

You scoff, locking your phone and tossing it aside, letting it bounce on the couch before it finds a snug spot by Ymir's leg. "Maneater shenanigans? Excuse me, I prefer to call it ‘strategic non-attachment.’ Sounds way more sophisticated." Your nose sticks up in the air in a playfully bratty way, lips forming into a pout.

Historia rolls her eyes as she zips up her sweater, the ziiiiip sound loud just to be extra dramatic. "Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘terrified of commitment.’"

Ymir hums in agreement, stretching her arms behind her head. "Right? Like, you’re out here collecting numbers like Pokémon cards, but let a dude actually like you, and suddenly, it’s ‘ew, feelings.’" She sticks her tongue out in fake disgust as she mocks your tone, making you roll your eyes.

You lazily point at her, feigning offense. "First of all, rude, I don't sound like that at all, cunt. Second of all, you know my philosophy; love is a scam, and I refuse to be a victim."

Historia snorts, grabbing her bag, the plethora of keychains clanging together and making an off-sound symphony of metal, letting anyone in a mile radius know that she picked it up. "Tell that to Eren, who was practically following you around at the party like a lost puppy."

"He’s a player, remember? He’s got a new flavor of the week by now, I’m sure." Your face stays neutral, but the way you grab your phone a little too quickly does not go unnoticed by the girls' sharp eyes. "Anyway," you say, standing up, "we should go before Connie loses his damn mind. He’s already sent, like, three where are you texts."

Ymir smirks, but doesn’t push the topic. "Fine, fine. Let’s roll out, Breakfast Club."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“Dude, you look like hell.”

Eren groans, standing in Connie’s kitchen, nursing a lukewarm fruit punch Gatorade like it's the last drop of hydration on earth. His hoodie is wrinkled, his hair a mess, and he still reeks faintly of last night’s Hennessy and bad decisions. He'd still be knocked out at home if he wasn't so abruptly woken up by said friend calling him a dozen times.

"Thanks," Eren mutters, feeling like his eye bags were physically weighing him down. "Exactly the kind of encouragement I needed. I shouldn't even be up this damn early."

"It’s literally noon," Connie says flatly, biting into his bagel, cream cheese spilling out of the sides. "And last night? You were gone, man. Like, barely forming sentences. You kept staring at y/n like you wanted to kidnap her ass and lock her in your basement."

Eren scoffs, taking a sip of his drink. "Was not."

"You so were," Connie says, pointing at him with his half-eaten bagel. "And let’s talk about that, actually. You’ve got that look in your eye—like she’s your next target."

Eren rolls his eyes, placing his hands on the counter to steady himself. "She’s not a target, dumbass. She’s just—" He pauses, searching for the words. "She just seems... interesting."

Connie snorts, finding the way Eren stares off into space a tad bit comical and so dramatic in a way only Eren can get away with. "So, what? You wanna wife her up now?"

Eren makes a face. "What? No. I haven’t even talked to her like that yet." He shakes his head as if he's trying to not imagine the thought of him actually, seriously pursuing you. "She’s just… different, y’know? It’s like a challenge."

Connie raises an eyebrow. "So, this is, what, a side quest for you?" Connie would never be one to admit it, but he was rooting for Eren to finally find love, and to finally stop being a damn fuckboy. He was tired of getting at girls only for them to tell him that they had their heart broken by his friend, Eren always leaving a mark on every single one of his hookup's hearts. He just wanted to meet one girl on campus that hadn't fucked Eren.

Eren smirks, leaning his elbows against the counter. "More like a boss level. She’s not like the usual girls. She’s got that whole I don’t give a fuck attitude, and you know I live for that shit." Eren always wanted things he couldn't have.

"So, let me get this straight," Connie says, licking some cream cheese off his thumb. "You’re telling me you spent all night trying to get her attention, and you still couldn’t bag a conversation with her?"

Eren clicks his tongue, looking annoyed and pouty. "It’s not that I couldn’t, it’s just—" He exhales sharply, that familiar frustration from last night coming back for a second. "She was talking to Jean all night. Didn't even glance at me. And then Historia got too drunk, and boom, she was gone before I even got the chance."

Connie bursts out laughing, finally someone was doing what Eren does to him, swooping in on the girl he wants. "Damn. She really curved you before you even got the chance to spit game?"

Eren glares, thick brows furrowing. "Shut up."

"Nah, man, this is hilarious," Connie wheezes. "Playboy Eren Jaeger finally meets a girl who doesn’t immediately fall into his lap? What’s next? Are you gonna start writing music about her?"

Eren rolls his eyes. "You’re so fucking annoying."

"Nah, you’re annoying," Connie shoots back. "’Cause I know you’re gonna spend all brunch trying to get her attention, and if you strike out again, I’m gonna have to sit there and witness the secondhand embarrassment."

Eren smirks, shaking his head. "Not happening."

"Mhmm. So what’s the plan, lover boy?" Connie asks, raising his eyebrows.

Eren grins, finishing his Gatorade and tossing the empty bottle into the trash. "Easy. I just gotta get her to talk to me. Once that happens? Game over."

Connie hums, finding Eren's words a bit deluded. "Man, I dunno. y/n’s like a you but hotter and meaner. You might be out of your league on this one."

Eren just chuckles, grabbing his keys. "There’s no such thing as out of my league, Connie."

Connie shakes his head, shoving the last of his bagel in his mouth. "Aight, bet. Let’s see how that works out for you."

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Connie picked the perfect spot for a hungover brunch, with the diner being less than busy for a Suday afternoon. The last thing you needed was a packed restaurant full of clanking dishes and obnoxious conversations stabbing through your skull. The scent of coffee and syrup lingers in the air, making your tummy rumble since you hadn't eaten since before yesterday's party. The hostess barely looks up from her tablet when Ymir announces the reservation, tapping at the screen with the kind of dead eyed exhaustion that says she’s one wrong order away from walking out mid shift.

"Ugh, why is it so bright in here?" you groan, slipping your sunglasses onto your face as the three of you follow the hostess to your table. Your feet shuffle against the floor, still wishing you were wrapped up in the heavy duvet in Ymir and Historia's guest room.

"Because it’s daytime, dumbass," Ymir snickers, sliding into the booth with Historia next to her. With a sigh you plop yourself beside Historia, slumping against the plush backing of the booth as if it might absorb your exhaustion. The other side is left empty—reserved for the two idiots who were, as expected, late.

"You’re acting like you weren’t up just as late as I was," you shoot back, lazily flipping through the laminated menu before going straight to the real priority: alcohol. "I need a drink. Immediately."

As if on cue, Connie and Eren show up, strolling toward the table with that casual, 'we definitely didn’t wake up on time but we made it' energy. Connie walks with his usual pep in his step, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who failed at punctuality. while Eren lags behind, looking annoyingly good for someone who was supposedly as hungover as you.

"Would you look at this," Connie announces, sliding into the seat across from Ymir. "The brunch bitches, in the flesh."

"You’re late," Historia points out, arching an eyebrow. Leave it to Connie to be late to something he planned.

"I told you no promises that I'd be on time," Connie dismisses with a limp wave. "We’re here now, and that’s what matters."

You don’t miss the way Eren’s eyes flick toward you as he sits across from you, that lazy smirk playing at his lips. Is this boy always smirking? He doesn’t say anything yet, just leans back in his seat, sizing you up like he’s trying to figure out the best way to approach. You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him for more than a second. Instead, you tap your fingers against the menu, eyes scanning over it even though you already know exactly what you want.

"So," you say, flipping the menu shut. "What’s everyone drinking? Because I am not doing this brunch sober." The first thing you do is order a mimosa, needing some sort of substance to numb the shitty feeling your body still harbored.

"Real shit," Ymir agrees, already knowing what's in order. "Mimosas all around?"

"Mimosa tower all around," Historia corrects, already flagging down the waiter with dainty hand.

"That’s my girl," you grin, nudging her shoulder with approval. There’s a silent understanding between you two; brunch isn’t brunch unless you leave a little tipsy.

The server swings by, takes everyone’s orders, and the conversation flows easily—mostly Connie, half-hungover and half-buzzed off life, trying to tell some barely coherent story about a girl he almost picked up last night.

"Bro, she looked just like Jade from Victorious," he insists, hands moving dramatically to prove his point.

Historia gives him a flat look, her usual wide doe eyes now hooded. "You say that about every girl with dark hair and a little eyeliner."

"That’s not even true—"

"It is true," Ymir interjects, rolling her eyes. "Last week it was that bartender at Sina’s. Week before that? The girl at the campus library."

"Okay, but this one really looked like her. Like actually," he tries to defend himself.

"Sure, Connie, sure." Historia nods, knowing how many times he had said this same thing before.

"You have a type," you say in a simple voice, reassuring him . "Own it."

Eren, though? He’s been biding his time, waiting for the right moment. And the second there’s a lull in the conversation, he leans forward, finally addressing you directly.

"So, you," he starts, and you slowly drag your gaze to him. His hair is messy, looking a bit greasy as a few strands fall over his forehead. Who does he think he is? Zayn?

"Me?" you say flatly, feigning disinterest as you take the mimosa flute from the server, keeping your lidded eyes glued on his. Looking away would make Eren feel like he had one up on you in this little staring contest.

"You," he repeats, resting his forearms on the table, emerald eyes locked onto yours. "Tell me something."

"Tell you what, Jaeger?" You take a slow, savoring sip of your drink.

He smirks, realizing you know his name without him ever introducing himself. "Oh, so you do know who I am," Eren smugly drawls, tapping a finger against the table. His posture goes more lax, legs spreading as if he's soaking up the ego that he lost last night.

Your face doesn’t give anything away, but inside, a flicker of irritation sparks. The way he’s looking at you—like he thinks he has the upper hand just because you acknowledged his name—sets something stubborn alight in your chest.

You take a slow sip of your mimosa, letting the bubbles fizz on your tongue before answering. "It’s hard not to when half the girls at that party were either throwing themselves at you or talking about how you used to throw yourself at them." Your memory reels to the blonde girl from last night, calling out Eren's name like he was some sort of damn celebrity.

Connie chokes on his drink, almost spewing his coffee all over the table. Ymir whistles lowly as her eyes dart between you and Eren. Historia presses her lips together, clearly entertained and loving every single moment of this.

Eren tilts his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he chuckles lowly. "Damn. You really came out swinging, huh?" He realizes his reputation precedes him, probably making his conquest of you just a little more difficult.

You lift a shoulder in a lazy shrug, setting your glass down with a soft clink. "Just calling it like I see it."

Historia, biting back a smirk, lifts her mimosa to her lips. Ymir’s grin is damn near feral. And Connie? He’s straight up beaming, like he’s witnessing the most entertaining drama of the century unfold before his very eyes.

Eren doesn’t look deterred, though. If anything, he looks even more interested. His elbow rests on the table as he leans in slightly, his gaze on you even more intense, as if that were even possible. "You keep talking like you’ve got me all figured out."

"Oh, I don’t need to figure you out," you reply smoothly, tilting your head with faux sympathy. "You’re a blueprint, Jaeger. Same old story, different haircut."

Connie loses it. "Bro, she just called you a template! A damn copy-paste ass—"

"Alright, alright," Eren cuts him off, but there’s no real bite to his tone. He’s still smirking, still looking at you like you’re a challenge he's determined to win. "I gotta admit, you got a sharp mouth."

"Comes in handy." You wink, picking up your drink again.

"And here I thought you'd at least pretend to be nice to me."

"Oh, Eren," you sigh dramatically, fluttering your lashes. "I don’t pretend for men."

Ymir wheezes. Historia’s dying. Connie is pounding the table with laughter, while Eren just sits back, shaking his head with that same smirk that hasn't left his face.

"You’re fun," he muses, eyes flicking over you, soaking in every detail. "I like fun." His tongue runs over his teeth as one of his arms slings over the top of the pleather booth lining.

"And I like my mimosa," you quip, raising your glass. "So let’s keep this professional, yeah?" You flash him a toothy smile and he would almost say you looked angelic if your attitude towards him wasn't the opposite.

Eren watches you take a sip, something unreadable flashing across his face. Whatever it is, it disappears quickly, replaced with something more playful. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. We’ll see about that."

Connie wipes a fake tear from his eye. "Goddamn, this brunch was worth it." This is exactly why Connie planned this little get together.

The mimosa tower arrives in all its bubbly glory, and Historia immediately starts pouring like she was born to be a rich housewife. She generously pours champagne from the tower's spout and asks everyone what juice they'd like. With the precision of a seasoned bartender (or maybe just a girl who’s been to one too many brunches), starts pouring everyone their custom mimosas.

“Alright, speak now or forever hold your juice preference,” she announces, tapping the spout like she’s about to make a life changing mixology decision. Large pitchers of different juices are lined up in front of her, waiting to be mixed with the bitter bubbles of champagne.

“Orange, obviously,” Ymir says, leaning back in her habitual manner, she could always get comfortable wherever she was, sprawled out like she's on her living room couch.

“Boring,” Historia mutters but obliges anyway, filling Ymir’s glass with the classic.

“Mango,” you say, watching as she pours the golden liquid. She makes yours strong, basically serving you champagne with a splash of mango flavor. Not that you're complaining though, you wanted to get tipsy.

“Classy,” Historia muses before turning to Connie. “You?”

He grins, his eyes scanning over the line up of juice options. “Mix ‘em. I’m feeling chaotic.” You don't know whether to scrunch your nose up in disgust or be impressed by Connie's idiotically genius idea.

Historia rolls her eyes but does it anyway. “Living on the edge, Springer.” His mimosa turns into a dark muddled purplish color.

“Always,” Connie quips, lifting his glass dramatically before taking a sip and nodding in satisfaction.

Then, finally, it’s Eren’s turn. He’s been quiet, just watching, observing, but now he leans forward slightly, lazily tilting his head toward you. “I’ll take whatever she’s having,” he says, eyes looking at the way you hold the champagne flute, making it wonder how your hand would look wrapped around his—

Ymir snorts. “Of course you will.”

You arch a brow at him over the rim of your glass, your lip curling slightly. “Copy-pasting my drink order too now?”

Eren doesn’t even blink. Just smiles at you, taking the glass Historia hands him. “What can I say? I like good taste.”

Historia fake gags. “God, please don’t flirt in front of my mimosa tower. It deserves better.” She downs half her drink like she’s washing away the secondhand embarrassment before refilling her flute with even more champagne and a splash of pineapple juice.

The table dissolves into laughter, the kind that feels warm and familial—like the collective, unspoken agreement that, yes, all of you may be hungover disasters, but at least you’re in it together. Connie and Historia start arguing over whether brunch food is overrated, with Ymir inserting herself into the debate just to get under Historia’s skin. Meanwhile, you feel Eren’s eyes on you every so often, like he’s still turning your words over in his head, still trying to crack whatever code he thinks you are. But you don’t look at him much. He doesn’t get that satisfaction of holding your attention longer than necessary. Instead, you lean back, sip your mimosa, and let the chaotic symphony of your friends fill the space.

"Alright, let’s toast," Connie raises his frankenstein of a mimosa up in the air.

"To what?" you ask with a lifted brow as you slowly raise your champagne flute.

Connie shrugs, trying to think of something clever. "Surviving another night of our dumbassery. And to, uh… new friendships?" He waggles his eyebrows between you and Eren, clearly trying to stir the pot.

Eren meets your gaze over the rim of his glass. He still has that look—the one that says he’s not done with you yet. You don’t react, just clink your mimosa against his without breaking eye contact. It was fun playing this little push and pull game, even if you were mostly pushing.

"Cheers," you say smoothly, a tiny hint of a sly smile on your face.

"Cheers," Eren echoes, mirroring your expression.

The table drinks, and for a brief moment, everything is peaceful—until Connie decides he needs all the attention again.

"So, get this," Connie starts, already grinning. "Eren and I had the most bullshit morning trying to get here."

"Oh god," Ymir mutters. "This better be good."

Connie rubs his hands together. "Picture this. I wake up, head pounding, mouth drier than the goddamn Sahara. I roll over, check my phone, and see like, five texts from you guys asking if I'm alive, and I’m like, ‘oh shit, we should link up and do brunch!’"

"Five texts isn’t even that much," Historia points out.

"Okay, well, it felt like a lot in my fragile, hungover state," Connie retorts before continuing. "Anyway, Eren comes over looking all tired and shit and heads straight for my couch. I tell 'im I'm gonna shower and to wait for me and guess what?? I come out and he's fuckin' snorin'. I try to wake him up, and this dude is fully knocked the hell out, like a damn corpse." He dramatically makes his head fall back, sticking his tongue out like he's dead to mimic Eren.

Eren exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "I was asleep. That’s normal, dumbass."

"Nah, bro, you were dead," Connie insists. "I had to blast music just to get him up."

"Which was so necessary," Eren drawls sarcastically. He swears his ears are still ringing from how close Connie put the speaker next to his ear.

"Yes, it was!" Connie exclaims, still finding the situation hilarious. "Because then this idiot gets up and takes, like, twenty goddamn minutes to stare at his phone instead of—"

"—Because I was looking at something important," Eren interjects.

"Yeah, sure, 'important'. Bro was probably checking his DMs like his life depended on it." Eren doesn’t confirm or deny this, which only makes Connie cackle harder. "Anyway," Connie continues, "we finally leave, and then tell me why this dumbass forgets his wallet, and we have to turn around—"

"I didn’t forget it," Eren argues, taking a sip of his drink. "I just didn’t know where it was."

Historia shakes her head, eyes squinting in exasperation. "That’s the same thing."

"Exactly!" Connie exclaims, arms flailing animatedly. "So now we’re really late, and when we finally get back in my car, the tire pressure light is on. And at that point, I was about ready to just die in my driveway."

"Honestly? You should’ve just let nature take you," Ymir says, stuffing one of the mini quiches the table ordered into her mouth.

"Rude!" Connie gasps, clutching his chest. "Ya know you would miss me if I actually died. Who else would entertain you at brunch?" He tosses a crumple up used sugar packet at her. You glance at Connie and allow yourself a small smile. He’s like a puppy that can’t stop barking, but you kind of like him that way. His antics help distract you from the tension that Eren never seems to let go of. Every time his gaze flickers your way, it’s like a spark of something you can’t name. Not yet, at least.

You softly laugh, finally giving in to the ridiculousness of it all. "So what I’m hearing is, between the two of you, getting to brunch was a damn odyssey?"

"Basically," Connie nods. "But hey, we made it. Even if Eren had to take his sweet ass time getting pretty for you."

You arch a brow at that, glancing over at Eren, whose lips twitch like he’s trying to suppress another smirk. You know Connie’s just stirring the pot, but you can’t deny there’s a certain… appeal in how Eren carries himself. It’s not that he’s trying—he doesn’t need to. And that's what irritates you.

Eren doesn’t even flinch at Connie's comment, instead leaning into it. "Maybe I did," he says smoothly, taking another slow, deliberate sip of his drink. "But even if I didn't I'd still look good enough for ya." It was something about this boy's ego that seemed to tick you off.

You just tilt your head, resting your chin on your palm as you regard Eren with yet another unimpressed stare. "Pretty bold assumption there, Jaeger."

Eren shrugs, an annoyingly smug grin tugging at his lips. "I make good ones."

"Debatable." You gulp the rest of your mango mimosa, wiping the little droplet that was on the corner of your mouth. "But sure, if you wanna tell yourself that." Reaching for a piece of french toast, you dip it in syrup, taking your time as you chew slowly, almost to taunt him. The silence between you both stretches, and for a moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the satisfaction of the game—your back straight, your expression utterly indifferent while his is all too easy to read: that quiet frustration that you’re just out of reach.

Connie, wiping the fake tears from his eyes, waves a hand between the two of you. "Oh, this is good. This is so good. Keep going. I’m invested." Cause who needs reality television when you have two friends at each other's throats.

"You would be," Historia mutters before popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Although she's just as invested in this fiasco.

Eren leans forward again, that damn smirk still present. "Alright, since we’re making assumptions—what about you? Took extra time getting ready just in case I showed up?" He wants to make you flustered, wants to see you blush or tense up or show any other emotion besides indifference to him.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, sweetheart, I barely made it out of bed. The only thing I got pretty for was this mimosa tower." There’s no hesitation in your words, no hesitation in the way you look at him. You’ve got to keep your ground. He’s fishing for something, but you’re not biting.

Eren clicks his tongue, feeling stumped. For once he didn't have a clever comeback. "Damn. Shot down again just like that." His fingers tap on the table as he falls back against the back of the booth.

You flash him a mock sympathetic look, plump bottom lip jutting into a pout. "Tragic, really."

Ymir whistles, tearing into yet another one of the quiches like it's popcorn and this is a show. "Alright, this is a slow burn in real time, and I’m loving it." The tension is so thick between you and Eren, it’s almost palpable. Whether it’s sexual, confrontational, or just a game of egos—you’re not sure, but everyone at the table feels it.

Historia leans on her elbow, eyeing you both. The stare down the two of you are having seems almost intimate. "You sure you two haven’t met before? Because this feels... personal."

You roll your eyes, trying to avoid the sudden rush of heat that floods your chest. "Nope. Just have a sixth sense for bullshit." Honestly you were tired of this little act Eren was putting on. From the stories Ymir and Historia had told you he was nowhere near as nice as he's pretending to be right now. You were waiting for his entitlement and attitude to shine through.

Eren huffs out a chuckle at that, shaking his head. "Noted." Despite the sour look you try to put on, Eren can see that flushed look you try to suppress, and although you would deny, deny, deny, he knows that he's slowly but surely gonna get what he wants. With that thing being you.

You take the opportunity to turn away, reclaiming some semblance of control in this little exchange. You busy yourself with refilling your mimosa, making a point to give him nothing else to latch onto. But then you glance over at him again, catching him staring at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’re almost sure he’s trying to figure you out, and maybe it’s working. Maybe he’s getting under your skin more than you’d like to admit. But before you can process it, Ymir’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

"You two are ridiculous," she says, leaning back in her chair, as she watches the two of you basically having a staring contest still. "You know that, right?"

You shoot her a look, but before you can respond, Historia accidentally spills her sixth mimosa, her face flushed, a giggle escaping her lips. "Oopsieeee," she hiccups, taking a french toast stick and sopping up the spilled liquid before taking a bite.

"Uh oh," Connie says, grinning. "Looks like someone had a little too much to drink already." Connie honestly loves when Historia gets like this, she's the definition of white girl wasted, always turning into a completely different person once she gets some alcohol in her system.

Historia leans heavily against Ymir, blinking slowly as she chews. "I���m fine," she slurs. "Just a little tipsy."

The whole table laughs as Ymir grabs her arm to steady her, clearly rolling her eyes but not too bothered by it. As the rest of the group focuses on Historia, you glance back at Eren, only to find him looking at you—his expression unreadable now, though the edge of amusement hasn’t left his eyes. You almost think he's going to say something—almost want him to—when Ymir interrupts, loud and clear.

"Okay, enough of you two and your weird ass tension. You’re both insufferable. Let’s get this one home before she turns into a puddle of bad decisions," Ymir grumbles, throwing Historia’s arm around her shoulder. You almost wonder how Historia got so drunk, but then you realize how tiny she is and just how much she drank. Plus, the girl barely touched any of her food, too focused on downing mimosa after mimosa.

You stand up from the table, shaking your head at the chaos of it all. You’re a little drunk, a little tipsy, but mostly, you’re irritated that the moment was so easily broken. You grab your purse, eyes locking with Eren’s one last time as you follow the others. For a split second, you wonder what he’s thinking—if he’s still amused by you, or if he’s over it. You’re not sure. But whatever it is, it’s a thought that will linger long after this brunch ends. As you step out of the diner the cool air hits you, and the rest of the group’s voices fade into the background. You feel his gaze on your back, and the flutter in your stomach is the only clue you need: this isn’t over.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

tags ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @cc1306 @booksandbud4me

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!

[rikosseen]

Lookism men reacting to their kids being disrespectful to you

Anon req | some kids call you mama (Goo and Jake) |ft. Gun, Goo, Jake, Samuel, Eli

Gun Park

It’s not that he never wanted kids— but rather he didn’t know how to deal with them or guide them as a father.

Watching his son shout a fuck you at you— well. He really feels like he failed as a parent. Perhaps, if Jonggun had used other methods to teach the kid— perhaps if he’d been more present, this wouldn’t have happened.

You stay silent and sit down, not bothering to deal with your son; feeling too overwhelmed and fearful you’ll snap or say something you’ll later regret. Gun silently picks up the child, walks into a room, and gently closes the door. He places the kid down until the tantrum ceases, and calls out to him when he’s calmed. His Son glares and spits at his father. To which Gun narrows his eyes. A stare down ensues before the grown man lectures the child on language, and respectful behaviour; ensuring the concept and importance of family is engraved in the kid’s head.

“Is that understood?”

A nod.

“If you’re going to be non verbal now, I’m going to take it that you didn’t listen to a word I said.”

“Yes sir,” is muttered guiltily.

“Go apologise to your mother and help us out for dinner.”

The little boy walks out, Jonggun following suit— and he hesitantly stands in front of you. A sorry is muttered, and the boy’s father gives a curt nod of approval upon seeing you hug your child.

Goo Kim

“Just say sorry,” the blonde hisses.

“I don’t need to!” a little girl snaps back. “Why’re you on mama’s side anyway?!”

“Cupcake…” Goo begins, bending down to level himself with his daughter. “I’m always on your side. But there are times where as a parent, I have to be like this. Don’t you think Mama’s hurt with what you said?”

The little girl scoffs and whips her head around. “

“Well, if mama could have JUST listened to me,” she says exasperated.

Goo sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“If daddy got angry at you for no reason, and started shouting some really mean things, wouldn’t you be upset?” he tries again.

The girl stays silent, but then quickly rolls her eyes with an, “Of course, duh.”

“Exactly. That’s how Ma’s feeling right now,” Goo picks up his daughter and carries her in his arms.

With a pout, she stays silent and furrows her eyebrows.

“I’ll be there when you apologise so it’s easier, ok?”

“No! I don’t wanna!” she screeches.

Where’d she get this attitude from? Goo scowls.

Jake Kim

“What’s up with you?” Jake gives his kid a poke.

The boy grumbles and picks at his food, ignoring your presence completely as you wash the dishes silently.

“What was that?” Jake whispers.

“I said something to Mama without meaning to.”

“Oh yeah?”

The kid nods slowly, but surely.

“Are you sorry?”

He nods again.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and say so?” Jake nudges the boy.

“I don’t—“ he hesitates.

“Come on,” the father stands up and takes his son’s hand, walking to you. “I’ll help.”

Samuel Seo

Thick air coats the house as Samuel enters through the door with a stern expression. Feet quickly scamper behind the kitchen counter in an attempt to hide from impending wrath. You walk out of your room calmly, phone in hand and take off Samuel’s coat.

“Where are they?” he frowns, looking around.

You tilt your head to where the twins are hiding and cross your arms.

“It’s not too late to own up,” you call out to the kids.

Silence.

“Suit yourselves,” you shrug, heading to the fridge to drink some juice.

Nervous muttering can be heard, but it’s quickly shut up when Samuel’s voice raises.

“My office. Now.”

Silence.

At this, your husband grunts and throws the twins over his shoulders.

“We’re sorry!” is screamed simultaneously, while you turn your head to ignore what’s happening.

“This is called consequences to your actions,” you singsong.

More screams and cries are heard.

What should we eat for dinner? you think.

Eli Jang

After a small outburst from Yenna, you can do nothing but give a tight lipped smile. Eli begins to stammer, and quickly runs up to his daughter in an attempt to reprimand her somehow.

“I’m so sorry— I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s not usually like this”

Yenna tries to wriggle out of her dad’s grip and cries.

“I know, Eli. It’s okay,” you back up a bit, observing your sleeves awkwardly.

“I swear, she absolutely adores you. And, and—“

“Eli,” you try again, this time looking at him. “It’s just kids being kids, don’t worry. Leave her alone right now. We can talk to her about her behaviour when she’s calmed.”

Reluctantly, he lets go of his daughter— who runs up to her room in a fit of sobs.

Warren and Sally walk in and give you two questioning looks.

“Is everything okay?”

[defututus]

Baggage Claim Reunion

modern!rockstar!eddie Munson x reader

masterlist

summary: Corroded Coffin is finally home after their first supporting tour in the UK and you get to pick them up.

word count: 5.3k

content warning: established relationship, fluff, more fluff, some language, references to sex and a dom/sub relationship that I'll explore at some point, overall you and Eddie are just happy to be reunited.

author's note: this came to me as I was waiting for @corroded-hellfire to pick me up from the airport when I visited her. I stewed on the idea for a little bit before deciding to write it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

Also, I'm starting a general taglist if anyone is interested 👉👈

Indianapolis International Airport was buzzing with people in the evening. Most of the individuals walking by look like they’d rather be anywhere else right now as they slump over in the chairs waiting for their luggage or lean against the handles of their carry-on bag. It was amazing to see how some people dressed there. You saw people dressed from head to toe in new Disney merch, in their pajamas, suits, the whole nine yards. Indiana was finally blessed with a few warm days around this time of year so you drove to the airport in a sweatshirt and some pajama pants. The occasion was exciting but did not warrant dressing up since you’d be going to bed right after. You even tried to nap earlier in the day but the anticipation for today’s events kept you wide awake. Hell, you’re probably the only one at the arrivals gate full of energy as you anxiously bounce on your slippered feet waiting for the passengers of an 11-hour flight from Helsinki to return home. 

Corroded Coffin had finally made it and was invited to open up for another band on the European leg of their tour. Everyone was so ecstatic when they got the call from the band's agent and began preparing. Eddie quickly got the necessary time off from work approved (one of the perks of Wayne’s new promotion to shop manager), passports were renewed, visas expedited, and before you all could even process what was happening you waved goodbye as Corroded Coffin flew off to tour for the next month. It was hard for you to adjust to your apartment being so quiet. Eddie was always coming over to stay the night to the point that you’d joke he should just move in. Maybe you’d suggest that after dropping everyone off when they arrived home. The band would have weekly hang outs every Saturday night at your place and would sometimes culminate in a sleepover with you all sprawled out across the living room. Your head more often than not would end up on Eddie’s shoulder and his arm draped across your shoulder. It was weird to go so long without him humming a tune or tapping his fingers against something. It almost didn’t feel like home without him. 

Eddie would call you after every show and you’d spend as much time as possible catching up on each other's day before he had to go help with loading up the van and promise to call again the next day. There’s the usual back and forth about who should hang up first until one person gives in, or in some cases one of the band members takes the phone and hangs up for you guys. They don’t do it to be mean, but they all know that if they don’t do it then Eddie will make them late for load out almost every night. 

You miss Eddie’s warmth, his contagious laughter, the way he always had a corny joke or compliment when you were in a bad mood. Hell, you even missed when he was trying to be annoying. You missed every part of him and as proud as you were to see Corroded Coffin get the attention they deserved, you also wanted your best friend and boyfriend back. The distance made you realize how hard it was to function without him. Sure, he had done other tours before, but the time difference left you two with little time to chat and it made you feel lonely. Your other half was missing.

You get to the baggage claim earlier than expected, having looked up the map of the airport the night before to avoid getting lost. The universe must have sensed your desperation because there was barely any traffic during rush hour. Once you strode through the glass doors, you find the carousel everyone’s luggage would be dropped off and park yourself on a bench facing the gate. According to the boards plastered around the airport, Corroded Coffin’s grueling nonstop flight had landed and their luggage was being delivered to the baggage area, meaning your boys would be arriving soon. There’s a small food court near the baggage claim and still had plenty of time left before the guys come out, so you take the opportunity to get some food for yourself. It’s not much, settling for a quesadilla and bag of tortilla chips with queso. You’ll eat that and let the boys fight over the bag when you drive them all home.

Your phone nearly died earlier and you needed it to get home from the airport so you resort to the age-old activity of people watching to make time pass by easily. You watch exhausted families carrying their sleeping children, pilots and flight attendants heading to and from work, and count at least four adorable dogs that make you want to abandon your post waiting for the band so you can say hello to them. There was even a man who sat near you with what was possibly the funniest, most wrinkly English Bulldog you had ever seen. His name was Hank and you were so excited to tell Eddie about him when you two were finally reunited

You were so excited to see everyone – mainly Eddie – that your heart began to pound every time you saw a group of people approach the baggage claim, but found yourself immensely disappointed every time when you learned it was not Corroded Coffin. There was a surprising amount of tall white men with long brown hair. Were you being tortured? It sure felt like it.

Twenty torturous minutes later and you finally see a familiar group of people approaching the baggage area. Leading the pack is Jeff, who is chugging the last of his water and shoving it in his backpack. Grant and Gareth are passionately arguing about something with Gareth enthusiastically jumping as if the added height would help prove his point. Behind those two is a drained looking Eddie with a can of Monster in his hand and his guitar slung over his back. Eddie insisted he take the guitar as a carry-on because he didn’t trust anyone to handle it with care. The rest of the band’s equipment was being shipped back to the States and would arrive in a few weeks.

 He had changed his hair a bit before leaving for tour by getting an undercut and you never realized how much a change in hairstyle could affect his confidence levels. His self-esteem got a big boost once Corroded Coffin began to take off, but this new haircut really helped him.. The longer portion of his hair was tied back into a loose bun to show off the shaved back. You joked that he did it solely to show more of his neck to you since you had a habit of biting it. He had headphones on and wasn’t really paying attention to the argument going on in front of him, looking as exhausted as everyone else in the building, but with little more curiosity about this part of the building and the amenities that surrounded them. He wore a faded Corroded Coffin hoodie (he insisted on repping the band whenever possible) with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeves and a pair of gray sweatpants, your personal favorite. Eddie was definitely dressing for comfort in this case, although you’d make the case that he looks good no matter what. He looked tired, the long flight most likely taking whatever energy he had left before the show, but somehow he looked as perfect as ever.

 Grant is the one to spot you first and waves in your direction. You throw your half-eaten meal down into the large to-go bag it came in and drop it on the floor to dart in their direction. Eddie doesn’t see you barreling over to them, instead taken by the large sculpture near the elevators. It’s not until he hears you yell, “Welcome back!” that he realizes his favorite person is finally here to take them all home that he tugs his headphones off his ears. The metalhead pushes through to the front of the group and meets you halfway to pick you up and twirl you around. He had never looked happier, all semblance of exhaustion wiped off his face the second he had you in his arms.

You’re both smiling at each other and start giggling when he spins you around. Your reunion is like something out of a movie. The world slows down around you as your attention lies solely on Eddie, his eyes, his smile, his everything. The rest of his band watches from afar to allow you both to have this moment. Eddie had a smile on their face that they didn’t see often - it was usually after a great show or whenever you two were apart and he finally saw you again. They collectively decided to keep their mouth shut about how much he’d complain about missing you. Always moaning about how he wished you were there with them, how he wished you saw what he did on stage (you have social media, you saw every second of every show), and how he missed talking to you. Eddie called you every day yet he acted like he hadn’t spoken to you in years. It was easy to just let him have his moment with you while they all waited to collect their luggage at the appropriate carousel as it began dropping out of the chute. 

Eddie’s spinning slows down until he’s just standing there with you in his arms.. He loosens his grip enough to place you down on the floor but immediately pulls you in for a tight hug. If there was one thing about Eddie that you liked to share with people, it was the fact that he gave the most amazing hugs. He would hold you so tightly you felt that he might actually break something if he were any stronger. Years of working odd jobs and later at the mechanic led to him building enough muscle so he finally filled out his shirts and could lift anything with ease. Hauling gear was easy for him, and he particularly took joy in throwing you around like a ragdoll, whether during sex or just to wrestle around and get you to laugh. Right now, it felt like he was trying to squeeze the air out of your lungs. All the love he had for you was fueling the hug’s strength. You reciprocated the embrace as much as you could, still feeling a bit giggly because your boy was finally home. Your face is buried in his neck to take in his scent. It was intoxicating. You had started using some of his shirts as pillow cases to tide you over while he was gone. Your bed usually smelled like him since he slept there most nights, but without him visiting the sheets began to lose their comforting smell. Thankfully, he already had a drawer for his stuff so you didn’t even have to ask him to give you anything. You even took one of his shirts the last time you visited his place so you could have something new.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours, almost whispering against your hair, “Oh honey, my sweet girl…,” he presses his nose to your hair to breathe you in and continues with a smile, “I missed you so much.”

His hands move from your waist to cup your cheeks after pulling away from you. There’s a moment where you two don’t say anything, just taking each other in for the first time in a month. Then, he pulls you closer to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s not the passionate kiss you were craving all month, but you were happy to finally feel his soft lips against yours. You’re leaning into the kiss as the world disappears around you, at least until you hear someone clear their throat and you remember Eddie did not arrive here alone.

“Um, sorry, do we get a hello too?” You pull away from your boyfriend and look over to Jeff who was speaking and laugh at his request. Eddie’s gaze follows yours and he cocks a brow at his bandmate, looking absolutely pissed that his bassist dared to interrupt your moment with him, but also that Jeff wanted to take you away from him. Yes, you were good friends with the rest of the band, and yes he was sure you also missed them, but you were Eddie’s girlfriend. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as humanly possible. If he could, he’d sit in the driver’s seat and use his arms as your seatbelt when you drove home. Despite his protests, you fully let go of Eddie (to which he lets out a sad whine and follows you to the others) and give each member a greeting and a hug, asking how the flight was and making general small talk. Without any warning besides the quiet thud of his footsteps on the tile floor, Eddie moves to stand behind you and wrap his arms loosely around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. One of your hands reaches up to scratch the back ofhis scalp and he lets out a content hum, happy to just stand here all night as long as you never stop touching him.

“So…” you begin, turning your attention to the group as a whole, “how was the trip? Did you guys get to sleep for a little bit?” You feel Eddie shift a little bit behind you, unaware of the look he’s giving his friends who just chuckle. 

Grant looks Eddie directly in the eyes and replies, “Oh, definitely. Eddie was especially quiet so it was pretty easy.” You cock an eyebrow at Grant, a little suspicious of the claim since the Eddie you know, the Eddie who sleeps in your bed most days, is a known sleep talker and never shuts the hell up when he’s awake. There was never a quiet moment with him. This was especially the case now, given how Eddie hasn’t spoken since he held you. Usually he’d be going on and on about every thought that went through his head during the plane flight or things that happened between your last phone call and now. 

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware that Eddie had a mute button. Where is it? Does he have a new secret freckle that I don’t know about? ” You point a finger in your boyfriend’s face while questioning the others. Eddie, taking the opportunity to get another laugh out of you, leans in and tries to playfully nip at your finger but you just move your hand away when he does so. He’s still silent and you’re becoming more suspicious of him by the second.

Jeff walks over, having gone to the nearest trash can to dispose of his empty bottle. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder before replying, “Well, someone lost their voice last night at the end of the show.” The other two boys laugh and Gareth pulls his phone out to seemingly provide evidence for Eddie’s actions as Jeff continues on, “He was invited on stage for the last song of the night with the headliner It was fucking sick. The gutturals? Disgusting. ” 

Gareth hands his phone over to you with a video from Tiktok pulled up. You kept TikTok open throughout the night to watch everything unfold live, but somehow missed this part of the night. Maybe this was when you were trying to sleep or went on a cleaning spree. 

Like Jeff said, it was the last song of the night and they called Eddie on stage. The metalhead is sweaty from his previous performance but looks like he could go on all night if he had the chance. He has a smile on his face that fills your heart with pride, his joy only growing when the audience begins to cheer even more than they were before once he came on stage.  Eddie is still in his stage outfit and makeup, some smoky red eyeshadow, wearing a half buttoned up button-down shirt, distressed jeans, and his favorite combat boots. The unbuttoned shirt revealed sections of his tattoos and his two necklaces - one with your first initial on it and the other was his new lucky guitar pick. His original has been hanging around your neck for around two years now. You were sure the comments were flooded with people fawning over his looks, they always are. 

The two walk up to center stage as the band plays the first notes. You can almost feel the energy of the room just by watching the video. Everyone in the audience begins cheering. Everyone knows the lyrics and they all scream along with the two men on stage. The first notes of the song begin to play and the two vocalists make it to center stage before they start singing. Eddie has one foot up on the stage risers as he belts out the lyrics.

All in with a losing hand

The sun sets on a wanted man

No spine, born without a backbone

Two-faced, too late for a tombstone

 His screams are most akin to a deep growl from the back of his throat. He tried his best over the years to improve his guttural screams without damaging his throat, but maybe last night he got so excited that he forgot to take all the precautionary steps he took to prevent any damage. 

Eddie nods at this and speaks up as much as he’s able to and says, “I got carried away and fucked up. I could feel the damage happening maybe halfway through the song but there was no way I was gonna stop.”

 Jeff nods, muttering under his breath, “And you’re the one always lecturing us about proper technique…” Eddie huffs and raises a ringed middle finger to his bassist who did the only reasonable thing and gave Eddie one back.

You take a little pity on Eddie because he’s clearly annoyed at himself for doing this and how he hurt himself. You turn to him to peck his lips while soothingly rubbing his shoulders. Your touch is already making him feel better. All he wants to do is go home and snuggle up to you in order to make up for lost time. From behind you, there’s some muffled comments being made by the boys, including a sarcastic ‘I can never get over how whipped he is for her…’ coming from Gareth. Eddie tears his eyes from you to Gareth and hoarsely remarks, “At least I have a girlfriend.” It’s barely audible to them, given the condition of his voice and the overall noise levels of the airport, but they’re able to decipher what he said by lip reading. The reactions are mixed. Grant fakes offense, Jeff scoffs, and Gareth flips him off. Then, the younger man gets an idea. 

“You know…”, Gareth says, readjusting the bag hanging off one shoulder with a sly smile on his face, something you notice right away when you turn to look at him, “I’ve actually been acting as his interpreter. I’m pretty good.”

Your boyfriend scoffs and croaks out to Gareth, “No the fuck you’re not.”

Instantly, Gareth replies, “What’s that? You’re indefinitely appointing me as the new frontman? Aww, thanks man! I really appreciate that you trust me with the band!” Eddie shakes his head and is about to walk past you and try to knock some sense into his drummer, mainly because he’s tired and just wants to go home, but you’re still holding onto his shoulder so he stays put. He’s pursing his lips and is clearly ticked off by Gareth, which seems to have been his goal. Most of the time, Eddie could put up with Gareth’s shenanigans, but you swore that every time they went on tour Eddie would come back needing a break from him. He needed a break from everyone, really. That’s what was so great about this job. You’re stuck in a tiny van with them with zero time by yourself and once you get home you can just avoid them until you can bear to look at their faces again. They didn’t schedule a Hellfire session next week for this exact reason. Eddie didn’t want to hear any of their voices or look at them for a while. Hell, he wanted to forget the guys even existed. His plan was to spend time with you, spend time in you, and spend time catching up on his sleep… with you

He’s sick of standing here, he’s sick of the clothes he’s wearing, he’s sick of being awake. Eddie grabs his suitcase from the small pile of luggage that made up their belongings and said to you, “I wanna go home.” He pulls the handle up and takes your hand to begin walking towards the exit. You couldn’t understand what he was saying seconds ago and found the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to watch Titanic when we get home! We can do a fun romance movie marathon!.”

Eddie stops in his tracks and spins to look at you. Did you not hear him correctly? Is his voice that messed up? It’s only when you’ve got the same shit-eating grin on your face that Gareth is wearing that Eddie realizes you’re just messing with him. He gives you the same glare he previously gave the rest of the band and lets go of you before turning to leave the building. You let Eddie take a few steps by himself before shouting out, “You’re going in the wrong direction!”

Eddie groans and turns around again. You and the boys are laughing and all decide it’s finally time to get going. Your boyfriend strode in the other direction to the other exit, one hand on his luggage and the other grabbing your hand again as he passed. You’re laughing even more now and follow him to the elevator leading to the parking garage. Everyone else follows behind and you all make your way upstairs and to your car.

All the bags are packed into the back and the boys into the seats. Eddie immediately claimed the front passenger seat to avoid being sandwiched between the other three, but it gave him the opportunity to hold onto you more. Once everyone was buckled in and ready you began the hour long drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins. There was some chatter at the beginning, but as time went on the chatter morphed into a loud conversation about god knows what. You kept your focus on the road in order to get everyone home as fast as possible. Your patience was beginning to wear thin so you couldn’t imagine how Eddie was feeling. Their loud comments were almost enough to drown out the car radio and the other vehicles whizzing past you on the highway. 

The entire time, Eddie kept one hand on your thigh. Neither of you had the energy for sex right now, but you couldn’t deny that his touch wasn’t getting you a little hot and bothered. You were used to satiating each other's urges whenever you had the chance so you had a month's worth of desires and urges to let out with him. When the time came for him to leave for tour, he made you promise not to touch yourself because ‘you can’t play with something that belongs to him’. You could have easily gone against his wishes, it was all for fun, but it just made his homecoming all the more exciting. His hands were warm and the heat went right through your jeans. He would squeeze your leg sometimes when you stopped and sometimes rub the inside of your thigh with his thumb. 

You drop everyone off at their respective homes and heave a sigh of relief once it’s just you and Eddie in the car. You love those guys, you really do, but sometimes when they’re all together in the same room (or in this case, car) they all start acting like lunatics. Your only saving grace was the fact that they all wore seatbelts and Eddie, the usual instigator of their chaos, was quiet and drained of all his energy. 

As you begin the drive to your apartment, you lower the radio volume until it’s merely background noise.  Eddie takes his hand away from your thigh and crosses his arms as he makes himself more comfortable. He even pulls his hoodie up to keep warm

You lived two towns over so the drive would be twenty minutes until you both could finally go to sleep. Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie moving to recline the passenger seat a little bit and shut his eyes. 

“Get some rest, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

There was never a discussion about where he’d be staying the night, you just assumed he would be sleeping here. It was a peaceful, quiet drive. A few minutes after he got comfortable you heard his even, heavy breathing and smiled at how quickly he fell asleep. He tired himself out after that last show. Eventually, you roll into your complex’s parking lot and slow to a stop in your designated area. Once the car is off, you take one of Eddie’s hands and give it a squeeze to wake him up. His eyes flutter open and you give him a warm smile. He blearily rubs his eyes and slowly ambles out of the car. You grab his luggage and he picks up his guitar case to sling over his shoulder.  Once he’s out and all his belongings are out of the car, you go over to him and hold your hand out which he happily takes. It’s a short walk from your car but takes a little longer than normal thanks to everything you two are lugging and how sluggish your boyfriend is moving. Thankfully, the temperature wasn’t dipping too low so neither of you were in a hurry. Eventually you get to the front door of your apartment. Neither of you speak on the walk over, but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you try to fix that. 

The door finally opens after you fight the lock for what feels like an eternity. Eddie sighs when he steps inside. He sets his guitar case down on the sofa and you put his luggage down next to the front door. You kick off your slippers as he leans against the couch to bend over and pull his sneakers off. Once those are off, he begins stripping down in the living room without saying a word. Eddie pulls his hoodie over his head and is followed by the Metallica shirt he wore underneath. Then, he pulls off his sweatpants to reveal… nothing else.

“Ed, honey, did you really take an 11-hour flight without underwear?”

Eddie turns to you as he takes his hair down out of the ponytail he was wearing. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp to relieve the tension from having his hair up for that long. Your beautiful boyfriend stands in the middle of your living room, completely drained and fully nude in front of the open living room window. Eddie looks at you and tiredly answers, “I didn’t feel like wearing them” like it’s completely normal. He’s beyond the point of holding a regular conversation. The dim lighting doesn’t help to hide the bags under his eyes. This would be a conversation to be held in the morning.

You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s bending over to pick his clothes up and you get a full view of his ass, and you won’t complain. It’s a great view. So great that you go over and give it a little tap. You don’t have the energy to give it a full-on smack, something else to tackle tomorrow. Eddie turns and has a small smile on his face. He takes the shirt in his hand and throws it at your face. You hate to admit it smells amazing - it’s a little more sweaty than the shirts he usually gives you since he was stuck in a cramped plane for eleven hours, but that was what somehow made it smell better. He picks up his laundry (minus the shirt) and carries it into your room. Your eyes are scanning his body as he walks inside. The only light source in the room is your bedside lamp, so there’s even less light in there. He’s half hard despite the exhaustion over the past 24 hours and you make a mental note to yourself to wake him up with a blowjob, he always loves that. All his dirty clothing is tossed onto the designated laundry chair, now a mix of your dirty clothes and his, before he flops down onto the bed on his stomach. He’s sprawled out like a starfish and groans when he hits the bed, burying his face in your pillows. It gives you the opportunity to ogle him more, the skeleton wings on his back and the bite mark that you gave him that he permanently tattooed onto the side of his neck. It’s the closest thing you guys had to matching couple tattoos - he had a bite from you on his neck, and you had his on your inner thigh. He was perfect.

You take the time to remove your clothing and strip down like Eddie did earlier. He turns his head a bit to watch you. His eyes trace your curves as the clothing falls off and is placed on the growing mountain in the corner. Once you’re properly undressed, he turns his head back to your pillows so he could  take in your fragrance again. The mix of your shampoo, soap, and natural scent was better than any drug.

“God, I’m fucking exhausted…”

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and sit down next to him, moving a lock of curly hair away from his face so you can look at him more. He has a sleepy smile on his face, and it’s obvious that he’s on the verge of falling asleep. You reply, “Mm, I bet. Did you have fun?” 

The metalhead nods his head and takes your hand in his to kiss the back of it. Eddie missed a lot of things. He missed the smell of your bedsheets, your warmth when he woke up to your body curled up next to his, the long nights spent in bed just laughing and talking until one of you fell asleep. With his lips pressed against your hand, he mutters, “Yes, but I’m happy to be home…”

He called your apartment home. There was already a mix of his belongings in here besides his clothing so it would make sense that it felt like home to him. The question keeps flying around in your head, but again, it’s a conversation for tomorrow. Your blankets were calling your name, especially with this angel of a man under them. You reach to your bedside table and turn the light off with a soft click, the streetlights outside barely illuminating the room now. Eddie holds the sheets open for you as you tiredly climb inside. The last of your energy leaves your body the moment your head hits the pillow. A pair of strong arms encircle you again and pull you close so your chests are pressed together. You nuzzle him and give him a little kiss before whispering, “Goodnight, Eddie. Get some sleep.”

You two are both out within ten minutes.

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@ainelantv

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 20

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

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Love. Oh, what a wonderfully intoxicating feeling it was.

Jude had never been in love before. Having another person so deeply influence your happiness, peace and centre of gravity was an alien feeling at first. But eventually, as the months passed, he got so addicted to the highs that the lows were well worth it. Six months into their relationship, being with her had become second nature to Jude. At times, the attachment scared him too, especially when she wasn’t around and he missed her like hell, but one hug from her was all the balm he needed. Mostly, he was glowing under her love.

Ananya had been in love before. But this felt different - deeper, more passionate, more intense, more consuming. And definitely far higher stakes. The doubts of their complicated situation never really left her, not fully. Especially on some tough nights when their realities came to a head. But Jude had a way of pulling her back to him every single time. All her worries tended to wash away under his smile, his puppy eyes, his constant reassurances, his heartfelt praises and proclamations of love. Even her worst fears were losing to the depth of his feelings. He had well & truly shattered almost all the walls she had built around herself. And made his way into her heart, mind, soul and body. Claiming them all decisively. Making her his, and keeping her as his. And boy had he swept her off her feet.

Roma and Jobe had front row seats to their journey, serving as external voices of reason when they were too drowned in each other to realise what was happening.

‘You’re practically living together now, you see that right?’

‘What? That’s rubbish.’

Ananya dismissed the thought immediately, going back to her Wordle. Roma and her were plopped on her bed, enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon after ages. Jude was out of town for an away game.

‘Yeah? Let’s see.’

Roma got up from the bed with purpose. Something about her tone & stride making Ananya put her phone down & take notice.

She opened Ananya’s cupboard and pointed at one full cabinet stuffed with Jude’s things.

‘It’s just for convenience, so he doesn’t throw things around the room.’

‘Hmm.’

Roma went to the adjoining washroom, carrying out one basket filled with Jude’s toiletries. It was bigger than Ananya’s.

‘You know how he is. If he doesn’t find the specific product he’d bring the house down or send Agnes scampering for it. Just for conve…’

‘…convenience you say? Sure. I’m guessing your stuff would be in his room too, for convenience?’

‘….yeah.’

‘And that particular brand of sugarless pancake batter in the kitchen, those cereals that taste like mud, all that healthy vegan crap that you & I hate, is there for convenience too?’

Ananya averted her eyes, unsure of what to say. Or feel.

‘When he’s not here, you’re there. If you both are in Madrid and have time on your hands, you’re always joined at the hip. That’s called living together.’

Realisation set in for Ananya, followed by panic. She grabbed Roma’s hand & pulled her to the bed.

‘Is this…wrong?’

Roma’s tone softened immediately, looking at her friend’s state, knowing that the point had hit home.

‘Why should it be wrong? But it’s serious. And intense. And maybe a bit faster than what I would have done. But hey, to each his own yeah? Just want you to be aware that you’re in deep waters now, my friend. And maybe you should talk to Jude about it.’

Ananya nodded aimlessly. The idea of talking to Jude about this was unnerving. The dreaded conversation of where they were and where it was heading and if they were moving too fast. So she put it on the back burner for now, letting things unfold at their own pace.

Similarly, Jobe was amused to see his erstwhile ‘player’ brother turn more & more into what he called a ‘lovesick puppy.’

‘Say what now?’

‘You heard me.’

‘What do you know? You’re practically a child.’

‘I’m 18, bro.’

‘Exactly.’

‘More relationship experience than you. Just saying.’

‘Teenage relationship.’

‘Still counts.’

‘Whatever, you’re wrong.’

‘Yeah? So you didn’t discard last event’s outfit, custom-made by your stylist, just coz your girlfriend didn’t like it?’

‘She’s got taste. Picked me, yeah? So what if I listen to her opinion sometimes?’

‘What happened to having ‘uniquely distinct fashion choices that others are too stupid to understand’? At least that used to be the house line?’

‘She’s not others.’

‘Precisely my point.’

‘You have no point.’

‘Whipped.’

‘Shut up you loon.’

‘So you’re saying keeping the beard was your choice?’

The beard had been a sore point between Jude & Ananya. She liked him in the goatee but when he graduated to a beard she was thrilled. She had never been a fan of facial hair but she claimed that the beard suited Jude so so much. Plus she found it super sexy, which Jude always cashed in when he needed to. When he randomly moved back to the goatee one fine day, she just looked him up & down & didn’t kiss him like she used to. Didn’t wrap her arms around his neck when he kissed her, like she used to. That night, she didn’t deny him his tumble but didn’t doll up for him like she used to. He got the message, without her saying a word. He kept pestering her if she didn’t like it and she said it should be his choice. She shouldn’t have a say here. But he knew it was bullshit. She obviously had a preference and this was a passive aggressive way of showing it. Jude complained that it was discrimination and she was indirectly influencing his choice by using her sexuality. She retorted that she hadn’t denied him in any way that night and he shot back saying that she hadn’t invited him either, like she used to, especially after a difficult away game where he scored the winner. This half-hearted passion was unlike what they were accustomed to. The spark, the heat was not the same, coz she was not the same. And she simply said she couldn’t help it since she was ‘mourning his beard.’ Jude wanted to turn around and call her over-dramatic but decided not to, choosing to play the long game & not get kicked to the couch.

Her reaction to a clean-shaven look was far worse. Jude had to do it for a shoot and she refused to be anywhere near him, saying he looked like a child and she didn’t want any funny business when he had that babyface. She even tried to put a pillow between them when they went to bed, which Jude had to practically wrestle away. No amount of whining, cajoling or begging from him made her budge. That night, Jude realised he was in love with someone who could be as obstinate as him when she wanted to.

In an unfortunate moment, he had shared all this with his useless brother. 

‘Never telling you anything else from now on.’

‘Pls you’ll die without babbling to me.’

‘Oh fuck off.’

Jobe ignored that completely. 

‘Gonna change the trim too?’

Jude sighed. She didn’t like his hair too finely cut on the sides, said he looked bald under that hat. But net net she loved the overall trim. So he had decided to stand his ground here & keep the sides as is.

‘None of your fucking business.’

‘Gotta give her her flowers though - not a mean thing to have THE JUDE BELLINGHAM wrapped around her little finger.’

‘Should I tell her you said that?’

‘Go ahead. She’s cool & she adores me.’

‘Then why being a dick with me?’

‘Coz it’s fun. And you’re too thick to see it on your own.’

‘Bye now.’

Jude did see what he meant; his brother had used those words just to tease him. And he needed Jobe to show him that mirror at times, like he had done to make Jude realise his feelings for her in the first place. Yes Jude had fallen deep, he could see it well & clear now. But the perks of this phase he was in far outweighed any minor inconveniences. They meant nothing when she smiled & embraced him with so much affection that he could practically feel his heart burst with warmth. Much to his own surprise, he was loving being in love.

However, the relationship had not been a bed of roses, like any other couple.

The pressure of his job was not easy to deal with. Jude & his family still had 4+ years to get used to this limelight & stress, yet even for them Madrid had been astronomically different. Ananya never imagined or wished for such a life, so it was even harder for her.

When the weight of the world was on his shoulders before a big game or a big event in his professional life, she felt the burden too. When all eyes turned on him, trying to tear him apart for some behaviour or the other, or for a red/yellow card (sometimes undeserved), she felt the sting too. 

When his injuries took a toll on his body, she felt the pain too. The shoulder & ankle ones had been particularly brutal - he had to miss matches, undergo intrusive treatments and sulk on the couch while his team carried on without him. Finding a balance between understanding his situation & comforting him had been tricky - Jude had flipped out on a few such occasions when she had tried to tell him it was ok. Coz it was anything but that for him. Later, he did apologise (after silent treatments from her) for taking out his frustration on her but she realised this was not sustainable & they had to find a solution.

With time, she was getting a better handle on his moods. When he wanted to be reassured - with comforting words or warm hugs. When he wanted to just be left alone. When it was better for his mother or brother to handle the situation instead. When he just needed company and wanted to sort out his head on his own, while laying on her chest and playing with the hem of her top absentmindedly. When he needed a mindless carnal release, as an outlet for his stress, which she allowed because generally their intimacy wasn’t mindless. He was a complicated man, under severe pressure, so she gave him a fair bit of leeway. 

She had also learnt to not offer unsolicited advice on his game too much, which sometimes she was tempted to do as an ardent fan. She might disagree with his brashness or arrogance on the pitch at times but that’s what made him him. Without that earth-shattering confidence, he would not be a galactico at Madrid at 20. So she only shared her POV on these things when he specifically asked her, or when she felt things were going overboard. Jude once told her that’s exactly how Denise treated him as well, though his Mum was probably more gentle in her interventions while Ananya took him to the cleaners at times, saying he needed that.

Jude recognised that she did more in finding this balance between them than he did, and that she could have easily stayed on the sidelines and not be so emotionally invested in his professional highs or lows. But she did it out of love. 

He loved her love for football and Madrid. Loved discussing & watching games with her, like he did with his family, teammates & friends from back home. Well, mostly. Sometimes he wished she didn’t understand as much and would be that girlfriend who just fawns over him unconditionally, no matter what he did. ‘Go find yourself a clueless bimbo then’ was her instant response when he joked about it once. Coz she was never going to be that & she made sure he understood that damn well. 

Jude had also realised that while he could often take a lot of liberties with her, and she’d let him, but when she drew a firm line it was set it stone. He didn’t tease her or mess with her when she got in such zones or such moods, which were rare but not too rare also. 

Work and family were two such no-go areas. She had no sense of humour when it came to those. If she was talking with her folks back home or on a work-call, even late-night, that space was sacrosanct and she did not like any histrionics there. Jude had spent a few nights laying next to her, waiting for her to wrap up work, but sometimes it spilled over & he had to go to bed unfulfilled. She’d feel guilty, offer to work from the living room so it doesn’t disturb him but he’d tell her he’d rather sleep with her next to him than be alone. 

Her family still didn’t know about him, barring one cousin, who was quite ambivalent about him being in her sister’s life. So he was absolutely not allowed to yap from behind if she was calling home. Jude didn’t understand why it was so sensitive for her; she was an independent 20 year old adult living far away from home. She had tried to explain how India was culturally different from how Jude had grown up. Her family was not conservative, not by any means, but even then, being in a relationship with a) a non-Indian and b) a high-profile footballer would be a massive shock for them and it needed to be dealt with carefully/gradually. 

Another touchy topic for her was anything perceived to be threatening her individuality / independence. 

One morning, sprawled on her bed, Jude had half-jokingly cribbed about the dress she had put on, calling it too distracting for work. It wasn’t revealing or anything, that wasn’t her style, but it was well fitted and complimented her figure beautifully. Ananya thought it was aesthetic and Jude just wanted to rip it off. The way she had swirled around and told him he had no business telling her what she was supposed to be wearing, Jude would never forget that look. He had immediately raised both hands in surrender, trying to explain it was a silly joke, but boy she had been pissed that day. It took Jude a while to recover from that fiasco. 

Another faux-pas he had walked into was when she took a rare girls night with Roma and a few colleagues from work. The couple had narrowly missed each other a few times that week so Jude was more than disappointed when she told him she was out instead of coming over to his. He had half-expected to see her at his place when he returned late from a shoot; sometimes she surprised him like that. 

‘Oh baby, I’ll see you soon, promise.’

She had slurred on the line when he called her, half-drunk. 

‘I needed you today. I thought you’d be here today.’

‘I wanted to see you too. But I didn’t know when you were getting done. And we were trying to get together for over a month, tonight was the first time all of us had a window. So came for a movie & now dinner.’

‘But what about us? What about me?’

‘Soon, promise.’

‘Will you come tonight?’

‘Jude, I can’t just take off on my friends like this.’

‘Why the hell not?’

The sheer entitlement & frustration in his voice set her off, like she owed him all her time. Oh the gall of him.

‘I’m not gonna be at your beck and call whenever you need me. I thought you understood that.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. I wanted to dress up & let my hair down & dine at a fancy place & not be cooped up in the house for a change.’

That felt like a harsh slap in the face. She could have done all those things with him. He could have taken her to the fanciest of places, anywhere in the world, if only she’d let him.

‘Cooped up in the house yeah? Who’s that because of?’

Her. It was because of her. She didn’t want to go public with him, wasn’t ready for all the drama. Not yet. He knew why. He knew it very well. So she was stunned when he weaponised that & threw it in her face.

‘I’m not your fucking property, Jude. If you wanna act like a child, be my guest. But you better watch your tone when you talk to me.’

She hung up, and Jude stared at the phone, not knowing what hit him. When his anger subsided (took a while) and he revisited the conversation in his head, he grudgingly understood where he had fucked up. She didn’t react like this when he wanted to chill with his teammates or have a boys night with his lads from back home. So he really didn’t have a leg to stand on here. Plus he could have done better with his tone. But he missed her. He just missed her like hell.

All night, her phone kept buzzing with messages, and she knew who it was from but she didn’t spare it a look, not for a few hours.

‘Sorry.’

‘Missing you.’

‘Didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Talk to me for a min? Just wanna hear your voice.’

‘Pls don’t be mad.’

‘Love you.’ 

‘Ping me once?’

She let him suffer that night, before going back to his place the next day. They made up, like they always did, tangled in the sheets. And Jude learnt a very important lesson - she would give him the sun & the moon if he appealed to her love for him, if he asks nicely. Respect, chivalry and understanding were the keys to unlock her, not confrontation or domination. Well, domination worked sometimes too, but she needed to be in the zone for it.

And they found that zone quite often. Intimacy and passion was at the heart of their relationship.

Jude loved exploring with her. Pushing her boundaries bit by bit. Breaking down her walls gradually but decisively. Uncovering layers to their intimacy. Cataloguing all the breathless sounds she made for him. The way her eyes rolled back in their socket as she writhed under him. Every little twitch of her face, the frenzied moves of her body. Her total and absolute surrender to him was intoxicating - like a rare, potent, lethally erotic drug. Every time he had her, it spurred him on to have more. He just couldn’t get enough of her.

He was also a shameless flirt, which he never denied or shied away from. Always checking her out, never in dearth of lines to use.

‘Thinking of those tiny blue shorts that flaunt your ass.’

‘Get some rest now. Gonna binge on your minge when I get home.’

She was used to these messages out of nowhere, and him invading her personal space without any prior warning.

Ananya was shocked to discover how much she wanted him too. The thrill she felt every time he touched her. How he had mapped all her sensitive spots & played them like a fiddle. The way his beard tickled & teased her skin. She could read his intent well now - through his deeply expressive eyes, the way his voice turned huskier when he was in the mood, how his hands wandered on her body or slipped under her clothes, how his lips lingered on her skin for a few extra seconds, his his breath grazed her neck, and sometimes even by the tone of his texts. She could tell if it was going to be a long & slow kinda night or a rough, rapid, intense bout where she’d need to hide the marks next day. Much to her surprise, she looked forward to both. Jude had introduced her to the latter. Initially she was hesitant, wanting to do it for him. But now, she welcomed him making her body his playground. Using his height & strength advantage to toss her around. Having her hands pinned over her head or behind her. Being on her hands & knees. Bent over the counter. Tied to the headboard. Pressed up against a wall. Thrown over his shoulder. Being bounced manically as he took her standing, without any support, using his ridiculous arm strength, while she clung to him for dear life. In this territory, she didn’t mind his aggression & control. And while she couldn’t match up to his impossible stamina or voracious appetite, she did meet him half way.

She liked dressing up for him too - a section of her closet reserved for such occasions. And that section only grew larger, some by her doing and a lot by his. But it kept depleting also, ripped & torn off fervently, depending on his restraint or lack of it. 

Jude was used to taking the lead in bed, and he relished it. But he could also now tell when she was in the zone, trying to seduce him subtly. The way she leaned into his side. How she pressed her front into his chest or back, letting him feel her curves. How she batted her lashes at him, while wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a soft, deep kiss, moaning into his mouth. How she sat into his lap, moving in a way that was sure to get him excited. How she bit her lip, while moving her hands over his body, feeling his muscles. How her neckline was extra deep some nights, giving him a plump view of her cleavage. How much his sweaty glistening skin, from matches or workouts, turned her on. In most cases, he took the cue & took her up on her offer. But sometimes, he liked to hear her say it out loud. On those nights, he tormented her slowly, playing with her, keeping her on the edge till she screams it out. Only then he’d relent & smile victoriously, burying himself in her warm, inviting heat & rocking them to ecstasy. 

He loved branding her with his marks, and enjoyed her efforts the following morning to cover them up thoroughly. 

‘Why bother so much?’

‘Anyone would.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Any decent person would.’

Jude never cared when her nail marks on his back / biceps were visible during training or in the locker room. He just laughed them off when other folks teased him. Most of his teammates were like that, barring a few shy ones like Arda. Special teasing was reserved for the shy ones.

The winter clothes were a big help to her, for now.

‘What will you do in the summer?’

‘Discipline you.’

‘Good luck with that.’

Jude was spontaneous, but he liked the anticipation of planned trysts too. As did she. Especially during role-plays (another aspect she was shocked to discover that she loved). 

His favourite such night was Valentine’s Day. Jude had pulled out all the stops that night to make it special - dressing in the black turtleneck that she was crazy about, decorating the living room (with red heart-shaped balloons but hey, he tried), ordering her favourite ravioli from a high-end Michelin star restaurant and a bottle of some very fine red wine which he knew she’d enjoy. Those were his gifts for her. As his gift, he wanted to see her in Indian attire. More specifically as an Indian new bride. Since he had seen that photo of her in a sari, this had been an open demand from him, and Valentine's Day seemed like the perfect occasion for it.

When she came down the stairs, dressed in a sleeveless v-neck cream blouse, red chiffon saree, open brown hair sliding down her back, cream heels, golden jewellery (bangles, choker necklace, earrings) and a fucking waist chain, Jude felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He stood frozen, unable to take his eyes off of her as she glided in front of him, waving her soft hands to get his attention.

Dinner was long forgotten. Every fucking thing faded in the background. His world revolved around this sorceress who had just made his brain short-circuit. 

‘Earth to Jude, are you there?’

‘Naa he’s dead. You killed him. Mercilessly.’

Jude took her hand and twirled her slowly, taking in the full 360* view. She obliged playfully, flipping her hair for effect, as his eyes roamed over her form & the way that sinful garment hugged her at all the right places, accentuating her curves, particularly that round behind. His hands rested on her bare waist while her henna-painted ones went to his shoulders. Jude loved the smell of it, inhaling deeply.

‘Some things are different?’

‘Yeah. I couldn’t put the sindoor and mangalsutra - only married women can wear that.’

‘Not even for one night?’

‘No, it’s inauspicious.’

‘The bangles are different too?’

‘Yeah. The ones you saw are called chooda. Again, only a married woman wears that, for a few weeks after the wedding.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You don’t like it like this?’

Jude looked at her like she had suddenly grown horns, thoroughly shocked at the comment, and she got her answer. Next second, she felt his large hand cupping her butt, pulling her close, moving slightly against her to let the bulge do the talking. 

She glanced at the food longingly, then looked into his hungrier eyes, and relented. Without wasting any time, Jude picked her up and carried her bridal style up the stairs. He had considered the couch but tonight he needed the bed to properly enjoy her. Her sari was first to go, followed by her petticoat, panties & jewellery, only the waist chain stayed on (he was fascinated with it), along with her anklets. 

Removing the sari was quite an experience. He pulled at it with force, spinning her around with ease as the garment slid off her body. While she tried to slow him down wherever it was held together with pins. She would have giggled at it, if he didn’t look like he wanted to eat her alive then & there. 

Ananya shuddered on the bed underneath him as he licked down her face, lapping at her ruby painted lips, dipping into her mouth briefly for a quick taste, trailing down her neck into her cleavage, while pulling apart the threads holding her blouse together. There was silence tonight, only the sounds of their heavy breathing & her soft gaps cutting through the tension, along with Jude’s intermittent grunts.

He pulled at the waist chain with his teeth, inserting his tongue into her bellybutton and she nearly leapt off the bed, moaning his name wildly, his weight on top serving as her anchor. Jude was struggling to rein in his lust, and that served as the final straw. Pinning her hands on either side of her, he entered her fully in two precise thrusts, making her head spin and her toes curl.

‘J-Jude..’

‘Shhhhh.’

What followed was the most unhinged she had ever seen him. He was painfully hard already, so he went straight for her secret spot, hitting it repeatedly to get her pleasure to build rapidly, matching his own state, while his mouth devoured her sensitive peaks. Sucking with such fervour as if willing them to lactate. When she shut her eyes at the sensations, he bit the underside of her boob, a silent command to not hide from him. Gasping, she locked eyes with him, mouthing a silent ‘easy, jaan’ as he slid his teeth to her hardened nubs, tugging at them.

Jude was gone tonight. The bed creaked violently under them. It was an overwhelming intensity, so much that she could almost feel him in her throat. Ananya struggled under his hold to release her wrists. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip got, sure to leave bruises. She squirmed in vain as he continued his two-pronged assault, via his mouth & nether regions, taking her closer & closer to the edge. She willed her body to comply, knowing that he won’t let go before she did, and came screaming his name with a pointed, decisive stroke, shuddering uncontrollably underneath him. He didn’t relent, keeping up his pace through it, chasing his own high but it was too much & she had to use the safe word.

Jude paused, let go of her wrists, slowly returning to his senses. Still buried inside, he crawled up her spent form, caressing her face with the back of his fingers till she finally opened her eyes.

‘Hey.’

She just blinked at him. Jude lifted her palm, kissing the bruised wrist, trailing his lips down her arm and pecking the corner of her mouth. She hummed in content, as he repeated that with the other arm, wrapping both around his neck.

‘Breathe doll, nice & easy.’

He cooed softly. And she followed like clockwork, cupping his face, connecting their foreheads. Still hyper-aware of his hard, thick length inside her.

‘I love you.’

He whispered the magic words against her lips, and she sighed deeply.

‘Just a bit more, yeah? Can you do it for me princess?’

She would do anything for him if he held her like that. 

‘Okay….okay.’

Jude grabbed a pillow & placed it under her back to turn her upwards, and changed to his preferred angle, as her legs dangled around his back. Her hands massaged his shoulders and upper arms, calming him down, slowing him down too, wordlessly. She continued to trace his face with her fingers, as he groaned gutturally, reaching his high. For minutes after, he just stayed inside (something he had started doing more & more) and on top. 

When he finally rolled away, and she regained her breath thinking they could do down for their meal now, Jude had a different kind of meal cooking in his head. He sprinted downstairs to fetch the bottle of wine, and dragged her naked form to the shower, washing her, drinking the rich, rare wine off her body. Spilling it down her neck then licking it off her curves. Then repeating it on her back, drinking it off the curve of her hips. Pouring it from his mouth into hers, so she could taste him along with the wine. Turning her red in more ways than one. Later, he went down on her, making her see stars while she also worked up the nerves to use her hands on him (for the first time). His takeover of her senses and body was absolute tonight, and the colour never left her face. She hid under the blanket later, unable to meet his eyes, once her mind recovered enough to process their activities. Jude cajoled his way under the blanket, cooing into her ear, spooning her from behind, showering praises in that silky smooth voice as to how this was the best night of his life, and how she had been an absolute goddess. How she was made for him. They had their dinner in bed, and then crashed to a much needed sleep. 

Condoms were antiquated history for Jude now. From the very beginning, since she got on the pill and he got a taste of what skin-to-skin feels like, he simply refused to go back, like his whole life had been a lie. Even on some rushed occasions, when there wasn’t enough window to clean up the mess later, he whined & reasoned to not have to put one on, only relenting when she absolutely put her foot down. But the frequency and intensity of their escapades always left a silent fear in the back of her head. The fear came alive one morning, when she realised she was two days late for her cycle.

It hit her like a truck. She never got late (barring some rare occasions involving health, stress etc), so the panic was in full swing. Ananya barely got through the day at work, mechanically finishing her tasks and confiding in Roma in the evening on their way back. She had iced out Jude all day, undecided on how to deal with him or what to even tell him right now. But the nosy detective that he was (especially when it came to her), he figured something was off and landed at her place unannounced later that evening. By then, Roma had almost convinced her to take a pregnancy test, while she cried into her arms on how her whole life was ending.

Jude was alarmed to see her state, and both girls were confused what to tell him. Roma suggested it maybe best if he comes back later but Jude absolutely refused, looking straight at Ananya, who was looking everywhere but at him. He could’t take it anymore & just held her tightly in his arms.

‘Dove, it’s me. What can’t you tell me? What’s gotten you like this?’

She just let her body go, resting against him, sniffling a little into his sweatshirt. Roma left the room to give them some space. A thousand horrible thoughts hit Jude simultaneously. 

‘Has something happened? Did someone…hurt you? Baby pls I’m dying out here.’

He titled her face up, staring straight into her eyes.

‘I’m….late.’

It took him a few seconds to understand what she meant. And the world came crashing down on him too. Ananya was nervous about his reaction, but somehow those fears were proven unwarranted. Because he quickly got into a problem solving mode, getting over the initial shock.

‘You used the pill daily right? You even had the app.’

‘Yes.’

‘So we’re going to be fine. Take the test, I’m waiting here.’

‘But what if we’re not? What if…..’

‘Babe, let’s not speculate. Let’s take the test first yeah?’

‘I’m scared.’

Well, he was scared too, but he was steady for her in that moment.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

‘Why aren’t you freaking out?’

‘Coz looking at you I thought it was something much worse. This, we can handle.’

The next few minutes were the longest of her life. Ananya couldn’t breathe till the result came out negative. She refused to even look at the stick, Roma checked it and broke the news to her. And finally she stopped hyperventilating. Jude ordered some blueberry cheesecake and ravioli, which she hogged, having starved herself under stress all day. Once the storm had settled down, and they were lying in bed together, scrolling through Netflix to pick a new show, Jude made a joke. At least he thought it was funny.

‘So you thought I could break even the pill yeah?’

She turned to look at his smirking face filled with a weird sense of cockiness.

‘You find this funny? No seriously is this a joke to you? Are you proud of your vigorous masculinity?’

Once again, he didn’t know what hit him, feeling like a proper fool for inviting this onslaught. 

‘I was just…’

‘Just what? What if it was positive, huh? But you wouldn’t have to lift a finger even then. I would have to go through the procedure, and I bet you have no idea how painful it is. Did you study biology in school? Or did you only hear till the point of sex and nothing after? Not the consequences? Not what comes after all your fun? Such a typical guy.’

Jude was sitting with his head down, like a schooled kid.

‘Am sorry, I really didn’t know it was painful.’

‘….I would have to tell at home, coz how could I keep something so major from them? But sure, you go ahead & make your jokes. Seriously the universe if so unfair - I wish you guys had to go through half the things we do. If your bodies had to bear the brunt of all your fetishes. But no - even god is unfair to women. So what can I even expect from men like you?’

Without giving him a chance to respond, she stormed off the bed and slammed the door of the washroom to take a shower to cool down. While Jude simply stared after her.

Roma was standing in the doorway, shaking her head slowly at the mess, leaning against the side. She had come to check on Ananya after listening to all the commotion.

‘Maybe the club should take IQ tests along with medical tests before signing players?’

Jude gave her a half-hurt half-dirty look.

‘Gee thanks. What an awesome friend you are.’

‘You’re welcome. Now try not to dig a deeper hole for yourself & call me when she comes out.’

Jude stuck his tongue out at her and she simply waved him off while walking away.

When Ananya came out after 30 mins, smelling like strawberries from her shower, dressed in a comfy fluffy pink bathrobe, Jude simply hugged her from behind, keeping his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his cheek against hers, slowly swaying her in his hold, whispering in her ear how he was her silly baby. She gave in soon, because one needed to be a battle-hardened soldier to stay mad at that face for long. And she couldn’t see him sad, especially when it was her doing; a fact he knew & exploited with impunity. But she did keep him at an arm’s length for a few days after, still spooked by what nearly happened, and Jude has to slowly claw his way back under the sheets.

Thankfully, that had been the only pregnancy scare so far. And Jude never whined after that whenever Ananya suggested using a condom.

Passion was a cornerstone of their relationship. But it surprised Jude how much he craved her otherwise too. How much her proximity (or lack of it) impacted his mood.

Ananya thoroughly revelled in their domestic moments. The little things he did for her, almost instinctively now. All the sweet treats that came his way through events, sponsorships etc were passed on to her & Roma. As did some exclusive club merchandise, which both the girls simply loved donning. Pre-match & post-match messages from her was a ritual between them, irrespective of the result. As were the late night calls, when he was out for away games or international break. Jude never missed sending her flowers every week; by now Ananya had seen almost all varieties discovered by mankind since Jude’s brief to the florist was to send new ones every time. On the two rare occasions that he missed it, he sent extra large ones to her office to make up for it.

‘I know what you’re doing.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Using this to re-establish to folks here that I’m taken.’

‘Calling me smart?’

‘Calling you ruthless.’

‘Love it.’

Weekly movie nights were a norm too, sometimes with the three of them. On most occasions, Roma & Jude acted like long-lost twins, perfectly in sync. On the rare exceptions, they got on each others’ nerves like hell and Ananya had to play referee in the middle, balancing between her boyfriend and best friend. 

The absolute melting point for Ananya was to watch fans respond to Jude, and the love he had already earned in his first season. Watching him with kids practically made her heart do somersaults. And her ovaries burst with anticipation. The feeling was indescribable - the way kids sought him out, clung to him, played with him, laughed with him, idolised him, cried for him - it was just pure & serene, something to be felt only by Jude & those around him. He was special, and the kids’ love was the deepest affirmation possible.

Jude was chronically online whenever he was idle, which meant Ananya often had the most random & diverse messages waiting for her, at ungodly times. Holiday destinations, funny memes, quotes from classics (he was trying out of FOMO since Jobe & Ananya often discussed this at length), football history, Spotify playlists (too much of Elvis for her liking but she never said that out loud), new branded fits, videos from training sessions or matches, pics of lingerie he was planning to buy for her, pics of food he could never eat but lived vicariously when she did, pics of English countryside (he had taken offence when she claimed Switzerland was more picturesque) his selfies, some old photos he had clicked of her & of them together, and many other things. She had learnt never to open his messages in company, because sometimes they ranged from fluffy to downright filthy, and he owned both with pride. 

Probably the trickiest point that they constantly navigated was her feelings on Jude’s previous lifestyle & the ramifications on their current life. After the Christmas fiasco (which had nearly ended them for good), Jude was quite mindful of his behaviour. And overshared with her for good measure even if the situation was borderline tricky - say with a shoot or some DMs or some fan attention. But given how popular & sought after he was with women, the kind of reactions he drew wherever he went, it was never going to be easy for Ananya. He was constantly flooded with propositions, some harmless, some not, and had immense access all the time. His submission was for her to trust that he won’t abuse that access, won’t act on it, simply because he doesn’t need to now that he had her. 

But the aftershock of that Christmas picture was still buried somewhere in her heart; it never truly went away. The lingering doubt never truly went away. In a vulnerable moment, when both of them were slightly tipsy, she brought it up.

‘Do you ever miss aspects of that life? The carefree fun & thrill?’

‘No.’

‘C’mon Jude.’

‘Not at the cost of you.’

To his credit, his stance had always been this. Always consistent. But she chose to push further.

‘Did you ever feel like going back?’

He looked at her with those big eyes, pleading to not pursue it. But she was on a mission tonight.

‘You can tell me. I won’t get mad.’

‘Yeah you’re just saying it. Then you’ll get all weird & distant.’

‘I won’t. Surely there has to be something.’

Jude was torn, but the alcohol had numbed his brain more than usual, as had her soft voice & calming presence. 

‘Like….very early on..,when we were fighting, and that whole asshole episode….when you weren’t…we weren’t….’

‘Sleeping together.’

‘..Yes.’

She had guessed as much. Sex was important to him. But how could she hold that against him when it was true for most men, especially those in his position.

‘I…just thought it’d be easier…less complicated….like maybe I wasn’t cut out for this…not now maybe…the feelings for you were new & confusing….but it was a passing thought…like super brief.’

She heard him out patiently, piecing together what he wasn’t saying, keeping her tone & face neutral, devoid of any judgement.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Act on it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Coz it was brief…I wasn’t…it wasn’t…’

‘But still.’

‘Because that would mean the end of us. That wasn’t an option. That isn’t an option.’

Her gaze was firm & piercing, trying to break through any potential charade. But she didn’t find any. And he pulled her close, kissing her softly, as she settled on his chest.

Now, Jude could have stayed quiet and could have let this moment pass peacefully. But he ended up yapping more & put his foot in his mouth.

‘Even for stuff you can’t do with your girlfriend, it just wasn’t worth it, y’know.’

She pulled away, crossing her arms, face all analysing again. 

‘Yeah? And what is that stuff that you can’t do with your girlfriend? That you were doing elsewhere?’

Jude was alert now. He wondered if his mum had dropped him on his head as a kid, coz how could he consistently find himself in such situations, of his own doing? Especially when his girlfriend was a lawyer or Sherlock Holmes or a bloodhound in a previous life? How could he be so fucking stupid in front of her?

‘You promised to not get mad.’

‘Not mad. Just curious.’

‘Tell that to your face.’

‘Don’t change the topic, Jude.’

‘Can we pls let this go, Ananya? What good will come of this? We’ll just spoil our night.’

Thing is, his past befuddled her. She absolutely didn’t want to know yet a part of her really wanted to know. Like ripping off a band-aid. And getting through every unpleasant information in one go. So there are no surprises anymore. But she didn’t know how to do it without judging. He believed being single gave him all the freedom in the world and their moral wavelengths just didn’t match at all. It was never going to. So grudgingly, she let it go.

Jude’s abstinence from certain activities, which he was a regular in earlier, was soon noticed by some of his teammates, especially Vini & Cama. And the fact that he was on his phone a lot, with a gooey face (in Cama’s words). They figured it out, and hounded him till he had to come clean. But he didn’t tell them who he was seeing (he wasn’t allowed to), just said there is someone, and showed a quick photo to shut their mouths. Since then, they referred to her as Jude’s girl. 

He had also been selective in introducing Ananya to his teammates. His previous partners-in-crime were nowhere on the list. The memo was clear in his head - committed guys with a clean reputation who will not blab him out.

Brahim and his girlfriend were invited over for lunch. Toni & his wife for coffee. Ananya was cool with Brahim - they got along well quickly and the conversation flowed naturally. But she hyperventilated when she saw Toni, the fan in her dancing a Flamenco inside. Jude kept elbowing her to reduce the pitch of her voice or not blink like a crazy person, but how was she supposed to be normal around one of Madrid’s greatest players ever? The cornerstone of their best years? Toni fucking Kroos. The absolute machine. And she was sitting across him in Jude’s lawn, just like that? Talking about fucking doughnuts? Like seriously?

The moment they walked out the door, she jumped into Jude’s arms and kissed his face all over. Jude balanced her by holding onto her butt, settling on the couch with her in his lap as she continued to put lipgloss marks on his face enthusiastically.

‘I love you I love you I love you I love you I loveeeee youuuuuuu!’

‘Because I got you to Toni?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not for me?’

‘Yeah that too.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Awwiiee my little bean my pumpkin my sweet babu - such a cute boy.’

Ananya was never one to bombard him with multiple nicknames (that was Jude’s territory), so the boy was extra amused at her antics. 

‘I think my baby deserves a special reward for making his girlfriend so so happy.’

Suddenly, the mood shifted. She took off her top slowly, leaving her in a dark pink bra. Jude’s eyes were glued there. And his body immediately responded when she guided his palm to her breasts, letting him play with them as he pleased.

‘The baby agrees.’

Jude pulled it down, and started sucking the soft brown peaks like a starved man. This is how he wished to be welcomed home every night - his girlfriend all pretty & naked for him, serving her tits into his mouth.

‘Not so soon. My turn first.’

Jude groaned loudly when he was removed from his personal fountain of heaven. Her fingers in his hair tugging his head back, craning it up for her.

She smiled and bit softly at his cheekbones, the sharp tip of his nose, his plump lips. She tilted his head further up to kiss along his neck & his sexy AF beard, bite his prominent Adam’s apple (her guilty pleasure), then twisted her head to reach the taut muscles at the back of his neck. He sighed softly all through, loving the attention. It nearly made up for his deprivation, nearly. Plus his hands were still there.

Ananya ended with biting his earlobe softly, whispering seductively in his ear.

‘I see what you’re doing though, how you’re picking the folks. You’re too plain like that.’

Jude’s brain capacity was significantly reduced at this point.

‘I’m plain?’

She rolled her eyes at how offended and confused he sounded. Such vanity!

‘Not your looks, jeez. But your moves, yes.’

‘Huh?’

‘Still wanna meet the others, especially Cama.’

That messed with his mood.

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘You know why.’

‘Remind me.’

‘You find him more adorable than me.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Umm because you’ve said it like a zillion times.’

She threw her head back & giggled, slowly pulling his track pants down and sliding one hand inside, earning a desperate moan from him.

‘Maybe.’

‘Then maybe I should tell you about all his extra curricular activities. It’s a long list.’

She batted her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side, unperturbed.

‘Oh, but then I’ll get a sense of your extra curricular activities too, no?’

Jude always avoided this topic like plague; they both knew that. He stared at the sexy menace in his lap, who was out-manoeuvring & check-mating him with ease. How & when did she learn that?

His hand cupped her butt, then spanked it with force. She gasped loudly, surprised at the suddenness.

‘Getting too smart for your own good, little dove.’

‘Smart is my second name.’

Jude lifted her out of his lap & threw her on the couch, getting on top of her. Pinning her down decisively.

‘STOP TALKING ABOUT OTHER MEN WHEN YOU’RE NAKED WITH ME.’

‘Yeah? What are you going to do about it?’

‘Gonna fuck this attitude right out of you.’

Jude grabbed her top from the floor and used it to tie her hands together, behind her. She immediately felt vulnerable, having no line of physical defence anymore. He pressed his bare leaking tip on her belly, enjoying her shudders, then slid it up her body to her tits, pressing into both, settling between them, cupping them with his hands to build friction. The tip hit her chin with each calculated stroke of his. And she knew he wanted nothing more than to shove it into her mouth, something he hadn’t gotten from her yet.

Her helpless whimpers were music to his ears.

‘Not so lippy anymore?’

She could only moan in response. Which turned into a loud gasp when he spread her legs impossibly wide, made a sloppy mess of her core with his mouth, then slapped it lightly, all while rendering her helpless. As if making a point that all of her belonged only to him. That he was taking what was his.

Before she could get any words out, he flipped them to move her on top. For the next 20 mins, he bounced her on himself mercilessly, thoroughly extracting his reward, as she struggled to find any anchor or purchase from the position. 

Exhausted, they snuggled on the couch after, lying side by side, recovering from the impromptu session. Jude lazily played with her hair, while she wondered about the stain they would have left on the pristine white couch.

‘Still can’t believe I just met Toni Kroos.’

Jude gave her a side-eye, expressing his displeasure at this being her first thought, after what they just did. But she squeezed his cheeks in response, which he grudgingly got out of.

‘Wonder what you’ll do if I’ll call someone else…let's say….Zidane?’

She stilled, then turned towards him.

‘Can you?’

Well, he had just said it for fun, he obviously was not on such familiar terms with the great Zizou.

‘Maybe. What will I get then?’

‘What do you want?’

He nibbled on her bottom lip, a naughty smirk plastered on his face.

‘Anything. Everything. However many times I ask for.’

She met his lustful gaze head on, familiar with his game by now.

‘It’s possible. If you bring me you know who.’

‘Ronaldo.’

‘Bingo.

‘Nope.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll jump on him in front of me.’

‘Pls, I’ll never embarrass myself like that.’

‘Don’t trust you around him.’

‘Nonsense. I might faint or get a heart attack if he knows I exist but I am not gonna jump on him for sure.’

‘You’ll tell him you love him. That he’s your favourite.’

‘I do love him. And he’s my favourite. You know that.’

‘Yeah not gonna happen.’

‘Whatever you’re just a hater.’

She made a face & tried to move away but his grip on her waist tightened.

‘What?’

She could tell he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

‘Do you love him more than me?’

Jude was nervous about the answer. There is a reason he had waited months to bring this up. 

Colour drained from Ananya’s face. In real time. But she was supposed to be the wordsmith here, she could get out of this.

‘I love him differently and you differently. Chalk & cheese. Can’t be compared.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Well, your question is flawed.’

She had loved her favourite player for 15-16 years. He was the reason she fell in love with football  and Madrid in the first place. And a part of her died when he left Madrid. Of course she loved him, deeply. It was obvious. What was Jude even asking?

‘Still, answer it.’

‘Jude….’

‘It's him, isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘So if we draw Portugal in the Euros, you’d root for them to win? Over me?’

‘I…it’s not that simple.’

‘Wow!’

‘I’d probably root for a draw.’

‘And if it’s a knockout? Will my own girlfriend not be in my corner in one of the most important games of my life?’

Jude was throwing the kitchen sink at her - the sad words, the long face, the puppy eyes, the hurt voice, the deflated shoulders. She felt very, very guilty. But she wasn’t going to lie to him.

‘I’m sorry love. Don’t know how to feel about this. Would always want you to do well, obviously, but I can’t also root against him in his last Euros.’

Jude couldn’t believe it, and sulked for a good while after that. She cooked for him & fussed over him for hours, and he eventually cheered up. Because, it was tough for him to stay mad at her too.

Introducing her to his friends from back home was far less complicated. They were coming over for a home game, and Jude invited everyone to his place the next evening to formally introduce them to his girlfriend. 

‘No female friends or girlfriends?’

‘Nope.’

‘All guys?’

‘Yeah. That a problem?’

‘Problem? No. Just too much testosterone energy. Would have been nice to have a girl in the mix.’

Jude laughed so expressively that he nearly dropped the coffee cup on himself.

‘Will remember to be pally with more girls then, just for your sake.’

She chose to ignore that.

‘So, how deeply have they been instructed to not dish out anything about your escapades?’

Very deeply & thoroughly, in a serious tone. Many stories were off limits. Jude was well aware of her ability to connect the dots. 

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Right.’

Ananya was nervous about meeting them. She wondered if they’d like her, given how different their upbringing and cultures were. It had taken Jude also a while to understand her sensibilities.

But Jude didn’t leave her side that evening, his proximity a warm assurance to her. An arm over her shoulder or around her waist, a hand on her lap, or just holding hands with her. He was right there. Explaining an inside joke she didn’t have context on. Or cutting the group’s banter when he thought it was too much / too soon for her. Ananya felt all fuzzy inside when he spoke about her work & pedigree, propping her up as best he could. She loved seeing him in his element too - unguarded, unfiltered, vivacious - with friends who knew him inside out. All his animated goofy antics on full display. 

Whenever Jude couldn’t be around, Jobe was by her side. She had been relieved to know that Jobe was coming over too, and the duo had hung out that afternoon while Jude had been away for training. She had developed her own, easy dynamic with Jobe, outside of being Jude’s brother. Jude often wondered what those two talked about for so long, but never asked either of them. Mostly he was just glad that they had hit it off, coz both were reserved in their own ways, unlike him. 

Jude loved showing her off that evening. Grinning from ear to ear when she dumbed down her work in basic simple words, just for everyone’s benefit. How the group responded to her natural ease & sharp wit. How some were secretly in awe of her confidence & brains, a little bit, Jude could tell. And when they discovered she was a genuine football fan (not pretending to be one to look cool or fit in), the ice broke completely. Many football stories followed after - most involving Jude & some of his ‘not so god-like’ moments on the pitch. She soaked in everything - paying close attention to everyone. Later that night, when the party progressed to some music and Jude put his hands on her, swaying her hips to the tune (as was their routine), there were loud cheers of ‘get a room’. Ananya was flustered, wiggling out of his hold while Jude just laughed & gave them a middle finger. It was a fun night.

Mostly a fun night, barring one unpleasant incident. One of his friends made a somewhat loose remark on Ananya, which Jude overheard. It wasn’t much, could have easily been written off as banter, and frankly wasn’t an uncommon or a new line in their group. He had heard it before. Hell, he had said it before. But this time, it made Jude’s head hot. While others had caught on that this was different for Jude, this particular friend was either too drunk or just daft.

Toby elbowed the said friend, telling him to shut his trap, while Jobe was on Jude’s side, watching his brother, ready to intervene if needed. Jude considered asking Jobe to take Ananya inside, who was helping the housekeeper set up the desserts some distance away, while he deals with the situation. But many eyes turned on him to impress upon him that it wasn’t worth it.

The said friend was apologising profusely, which fell on deaf ears. He eventually decided to not ruin the night, for others, but mostly for her. However, Jude wasn’t going to allow that guy to be anywhere near Ananya.

‘Get out.’

With that, Jude went to find the only person who could calm him down right now. Ananya felt his arm wrap around her waist, more possessive than usual, pulling her into his side. She smiled up at him, but could’t recognise the look on his face. Jobe jogged over, and the brothers exchanged a look. She looked between them, then at Jobe, who gave her a reassuring nod and walked away after patting Jude’s shoulder. While Jude’s hand fidgeted on her waist.

‘Honey, what’s wrong?’

Jude was mad at the guy. But somewhere he was more mad at himself. It was because of who he was, rather who he had been, that the guy was able to take the liberty to make such a comment on her. He was fighting the urge of going after the guy and apologising to her at the same time. His thoughts were in mayhem. His eyes reflecting the storm inside.

Her soft voice & concerned eyes anchored him back, as did her hand gently stroking his chest. When he didn’t say anything, she nudged him down for a soft kiss, breaking her rule of no PDA. Swallowing his irritation. When they parted, Jude smiled at his magical girl, and Ananya led him back to the group. 

That night triggered something in Jude. He wanted to show her off to the world now. Wanted to have her on his arm. Wanted to go out to dinner dates & clubs with her. Wanted to claim her as his girlfriend. Wanted the whole fucking world to know who she belonged to, and what she meant to him. 

The return leg against Manchester City provided the perfect opportunity. She was in London that week for work, 75 mins away from the stadium. When Jude asked her a couple of days before the match, it didn’t go down as he intended. There was silence on the line, and his mood already was in the bin.

‘Will you say something?’

She didn’t know what to say, completely caught off-guard by his question. 

‘I-I don’t know what my schedule would be like. If I’d get done in time for the match.’

‘It’s at night. I can still send the passes and you can come if you get done? You can bring Roma too, I’ll handle the logistics.’

Silence again. Jude was losing patience and cut to the chase.

‘You don’t even wanna try do you?’

‘Jude, it’s not like that. But we shouldn’t rush into this. It’s a massive thing.’

‘6 months. We’ve been together 6 months, Ananya.’

‘I know. But I’m in the middle of this crazy cross-geography deal, and I still have a few MBA interviews lined up for next week. The safe schools, but still. There is so much going on. Maybe we should wait for a better time?’

‘And when would that be?’

‘Jude, we need to plan for this. I’m in the London office right now. How do you think I’d be able to walk into the boardroom with all our directors and clients next day if we actually go through with this? What would they be thinking when I’ll be running through my presentation?’

‘You tell me - what would they be thinking?’

‘They’ll only see me as your girlfriend Jude.’

A 20 yr old frivolous (easy) piece of ass. Not an investment banking analyst specialising in leveraged buyouts. That is, if her MD doesn’t decide to leave her out of the presentation to avoid any drama.

It was his turn to be silent. She could hear his heavy breath while she waited anxiously for a response.

‘Is it so terrible for you to be seen as my girlfriend? Even after all this time?’

His voice was low. Vulnerable. Hurt. How she wished she was there with him right now.

‘Nothing baby. So long as people see me beyond that too. Which is why we need to time this right  -  at work, with my parents - we need to find the perfect tim….’

‘There’s never going to be a perfect time. You’ll have to rip off the band-aid at some point. Given how painful it seems to be for you.’

The truth in his words cut deeply. There was nothing she could say to soothe him, despite knowing he was hurting. She tried, but no words came out, leading to a deafening silence.

He hung up shortly after, with a curt goodnight, and Ananya didn’t know what to do with herself. Sleep eluded both that night. Jude kept to himself during the flight next morning, saying he was tired. The team let him be. He didn’t respond to her messages of good morning or safe travels. Left them on unread all day. Only giving in at night after returning from the stadium. 

The match was next night. He desperately needed some sleep but somehow his body was refusing his command. And he knew the cure to his restlessness - avoiding her was not it. Even his treacherous body didn’t allow it.

He dialled her number, and she picked up in three rings, on her way back to her hotel. It was 11 pm - Jude couldn’t help but check on the route she was taking & how far out she was, only slumping back in bed once he was satisfied with her response. Long silence followed after the pleasantries, which she eventually broke.

‘How was your day?’

‘Shitty as fuck.’

‘Mine too, baby. But it’s such a big day for you & the team tomorrow. Maybe let’s focus on that, yeah? Let’s win tomorrow baby. Think about it - you returning home & knocking out the defending champions, the favourites, on their turf. Avenging last year’s loss. With your family & friends cheering you on. We’ll get to the semis Jude, in your first year. Think how amazing that would be.’

‘You won’t be there.’

‘I’m so sorry, my love. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you and I will. But this can’t be the reason that holds you back tomorrow - I need to see you shine on that pitch. To give your 200% and more. It’s the big occasion, and I need my big game player to show the world what he’s made of. So tell me, what will it take?’

He knew the answer right away. 

‘Come home with me this weekend. To Birmingham.’

Jude had a window after this match and before the international break. He was going home for a few days, she knew that. His parents had asked about meeting her a few times - she had met Jobe & his friends after all, but never the parents. Not even a few times they had been with Jude in Madrid. Jude had tested waters during one such trip, but figured it was too soon for her. She had told him she’d never met a boyfriend’s parents before, and it was a very big deal in her world. So he gave her space and bought time with his parents. But it had been 6 months now, more than enough time.

Ananya took a few deep breaths. What he was asking for was fair. Nerve-wrecking but fair. She couldn’t deny him this, she didn’t have the heart to, no matter how nervous this made her.

‘Ok.’

‘What?’

‘I said ok.’

‘You’ll come with me?’

‘Yes Jude.’

‘Not going to bail on me?’

‘No. I’ll work from there if I have to but I’ll come.’

All restlessness evaporated from his body as he slowly processed her words. He found a pillow, hugging it close, remembering her scent.

‘Gonna win for you tomorrow.’

‘You do that. I’ll be watching you.’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you more.’

‘Not possible.’

Ananya made him hang up shortly after, saying he needed the rest, and Jude drifted off to a sound sleep.

Once she reached her hotel, she banged on Roma’s door. Roma was taking a relaxing shower after a long day but ran out to find an impatient Ananya on the other side. 

‘I’m meeting his parents.’

‘What? When?’

‘THIS WEEKEND. And I don’t have anything to wear. This is a nightmare.’

Roma stood in her bathrobe, leaning against the closet, listening to Ananya rant for 10 mins. It was ridiculous, her friend had the most age appropriate closet she had ever seen. And she was golden when it came to the kind of girls Jude was likely to bring home. Sheer fucking golden. 

But Roma took her best friend duties seriously. She tried to talk sense into Ananya, promised to figure out her wardrobe tomorrow, then practically dragged her to the bathtub and pushed her inside so she could calm the fuck down.

Madrid won the next night. The girls were ecstatic, jumping on their hotel bed ecstatic, ordering late night champagne to their room to celebrate. Ananya was so proud of him. He had been imperial on the pitch, relentless. Her heart ached to be there with him, especially when he wanted her so. But it was only a matter of 2 days now - Friday evening she’d travel to Birmingham to spend the weekend in his family home. 

Thursday night, Ananya turned her (& Roma’s) suitcases upside down to find the right clothes. Asking Jude what would be appropriate was a royal waste of time - he just looked at her like she was asking him the square root of 1691. Then said cool to everything she showed him. Jobe, the otherwise reliable, sane one just gave her an incredulous look too. She realised the brothers had the same WTF face. She also concluded that men were an utterly useless breed in most cases. Next evening, she got in the car that Jude insisted he would send, and was on her way. 

At the other end, Jude was chomping at the bit all evening. Bouncing around the house in anticipation. When she was 5 mins away and took a wrong turn, he frowned at the screen.

‘Pls don’t tell me you’re tracking her phone.’

‘Oh she’ll murder me with her bare tiny hands. I’m tracking the driver.’

‘Of course.’

The car had barely parked in the driveway around 10 pm when Jude opened her gate, pulled her out, hugged her tight, lifting her straight off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Both whispering ‘missed you’ together. They hadn’t seen each other in 10 days. Not even on her 21st birthday a week ago, since she was in London for work. 

About 30 seconds later, she tapped on his back to put her down, and he did. Jude held her hand and picked up her bag with the other one, leading her to the house.

He could tell she was nervous; it was kinda cute. But she really had no reason to be. His parents were super cool and he just knew they’d love her. 

‘You’re fine. It’s gonna be fine.’

He whispered before opening the door. And they met Jobe on the other side. He gave her a quick side hug, with a sweet ‘welcome home’. That put her at ease, somewhat.

Mark & Denise were in the living room. She wasn’t sure how to greet them or what to call them, so she had decided to go with Mr. and Mrs. Bellingham. But before she could open her mouth & embarrass herself, Mark came over & lightly patted her shoulder.

‘Heyyy Ananya, welcome. I’m Mark.’

The pronunciation of her name was perfect, and she could tell Jude had something to do with it.

‘Hey Mark, how are you?’

‘All good. So good to finally meet the girl my son can’t stop raving about.’

‘Thanks Dad.’

Mark just play-pushed Jude away. And Ananya could see where Jude got his grin and easy-going attitude from.

‘So good to be here.’

Denise was watching them from the side. Their eyes met, and both women slowly walked towards each other, shaking hands.

‘Hey Ananya, good to see you.’

‘You too, Denise. What a lovely home.’

‘Thank you. Come have some dinner? We saved some casserole - Jude said you’re vegetarian.’

She was about to say yes out of courtesy when Jude intervened.

‘Mom she had some takeaway on the road coz it was getting late.’

‘I see.’

‘But the casserole sounds lovely, I’ll have it tomorrow.’

Ananya quickly chimed in.

‘Sure. You must be tired. Get some rest, see you in the morning.’

After some quick good-nights, Jude led her upstairs to his room, hand-in-hand. The staircase wall was filled with family photos over the years, many more than his place in Madrid. She glanced through all, feeling the warmth of the family home, getting a window into their closely-knit unit.

Jude’s room was no different, littered with photos & memorabilia, a wide contrast to his squeaky clean room in Madrid. That was a man’s room, this was a boy’s. This still had memories of his growing up years, and they seemed to want to keep it that way. Jude let her look around, breathe it in, while he put away her stuff in his closet.

A minute later, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and his chin rested on her shoulder. 

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘Can’t believe you’re really here.’

‘Me neither.’

Both moved at the same time to lean in for a kiss. Jude lifted her, carrying her to the bed, as she settled into his lap in their trademark koala hug. Lips glued to each others’. His hand at the back of her neck guiding their pace.

After a long make-out, she slowly pushed at his chest, and he broke the kiss grudgingly. He had promised her to behave himself this weekend - Ananya’s condition of coming over was ‘no funny business’ and for him to keep his hands to himself. But she was so close & he couldn’t understand why he had to deny himself.

‘I’ll stop soon.’

She shook her head slowly.

‘You know you won’t.’

‘They won’t mind. They may not even notice.’

‘Jude, you promised.’

‘Fiiiiine.’

He plopped on the bed dramatically, as she stepped into the washroom to change, emerging in his jersey and her pyjamas. She snuggled next to him, and he pulled the blanket over them, holding her close.

‘I’m so proud of you. Last night was awesome.’

‘Thanks dove.’

‘All Madridistas are proud of you.’

He tapped on her lips lovingly.

‘But I care about this one the most.’

‘Such a charmer.’

He gave her a Jude grin in response, and they fell back to a comfortable silence, just soaking each other in.

‘Honey, I’m sorry about the game.’

She knew she had hurt him. She knew it was playing on his mind. His arms tightened around her in response, like she’d slip away any second if he weren’t careful.

‘Let’s not go there right now, yeah?’

‘Ok.’

It would have opened some existential doors that both weren’t ready to look behind at this point. She was here, that’s what mattered right now. Jude leaned it to kiss her again, enveloping her mouth in a deep, comforting kiss. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

‘Hey guys, can I come in?’

‘No. Go away.’

Ananya smacked Jude’s chest in admonishment, sitting up in bed and fixing her hair/attire quickly.

‘Come in Jobe.’

The younger Bellingham snuck his head in first, followed by the rest of him. He was already taller than Jude, and still growing (something he never failed to highlight). Ananya genuinely wanted to ask Denise what she had fed them as kids.

‘I come bearing gifts.’

Denise had sent over some sponge cake, mostly for her, since Jude couldn’t have this stuff. Her face lit up at the prospect of home-cooked cake, and she hungrily took it from Jobe, quickly stuffing her mouth with it.

The three sat on the bed, talking about random stuff for some time after. Jude couldn’t wait for his brother to piss off, and he wasn’t subtle about it AT ALL, despite glares from Ananya. When Jobe did leave in some time, Ananya threw him a dirty look.

‘That was not very nice.’

‘He’ll live.’

‘Jude.’

‘What? He’ll do the same in my position.’

‘I highly doubt it.’

‘Baby, he’s a lot like me. You just don’t see it yet, or don’t want to.’

Ananya didn’t want to ask what that meant. Maybe he was right, maybe she didn’t want to see it.

So she changed the subject.

‘How’s the shoulder now?’

‘Not killing me if thats what you’re asking.’

‘And the back?’

‘Very much killing me.’

‘Let me see.’

Jude laid face down onto the pillow, while she straddled him, keeping her knees on either side.

He often joked that she had turned into a half physio by now, and should start charging the club as a side-hustle. She had picked up on a few things, from trying to help ease his pain on some particularly harsh nights.

Slowly, she massaged down the spasming muscles, applying pressure at the right points. He moaned into the pillow, asking for more. She went again, and he moaned harder. So much that she had to ask him to be quieter.

‘My dick’s hurting too. Badly. Can you tend to it next?’

She smacked his butt in response. Which had the opposite effect coz he absolutely loved it & laughed into the pillow.

‘Stop being a pervert.’

Jude twisted his neck back to try catching her eyes.

‘How can I be a pervert with my own girlfriend?’

She twisted it right back, pushing him back into the pillow.

‘You can write a book on it.’

‘You’re hurting my feelings.’

‘You’ll live.’

Jude smiled at the way she used his own words against him, ever the wordsmith. His body relaxed under her soft, concerned hands, and he pulled her back down next to him after some time, drifting off to sleep soon after, burying his head in the crook of her neck, one arm & leg over her body, as her arms draped around his shoulders.

Ananya was wide awake for a while, taking in the room and all that would have happened here. When he would have first thought to start playing football, as a 6 yr old. When he would have stared at the ceiling, dreaming of playing professionally. When he would have gotten into Birmingham City and had the season that he did. When the young boy would have cried for having to leave his room, his house, his city, his club, his family, his country to play for Dortmund. That was all he would have wanted but it would have hit then how much he would have to leave behind. When he would have come here after making it at Dortmund. And finally, when the boy had turned into a man at Madrid. This room witnessed it all. If only the walls could talk, she’d sit & hear every single thing about the man she loved - his dreams, his fears, his secrets, his little jokes, his joys, his habits, his whole life. 

The thoughts led to a lump in her throat and a tingling in her eyes. Jude stirred in his sleep, moving his mouth on her neck, as if sensing her restlessness. She held him tighter, he did the same, and she didn’t realise when sleep took over.

Next morning, they slept in late, and no one disturbed them. The day was filed with fun family time.

First up was a barbecue in the backyard. She was touched to find they had gotten vegetables specifically for her. Mark & Jobe were on barbecue duty while Jude was helping Denise in the kitchen with salad & mashed potatoes. Ananya chose to side with the former team, having never seen this up close. And also because she was a little intimidated by Denise. This would have been the perfect organic window to break the ice, with Jude around, but she chickened out and picked the easier option. Mark showed her how to do the vegetables and she did the rest on her own, under his close supervision.

The family & her ate outside. Mark started talking about her work & plans, and he made it very easy for her to open up. At one point she even went into a monologue, speaking for a few mins straight, feeling embarrassed after. Jude & Mark started arguing about something random then, in a competition of who could yap more/louder, with Jobe joining in for some bits. Eventually, Denise put an end to the argument & the focus came back to the food. Which was frankly delicious. 

Next up were home videos & photo albums, something she had specifically requested Jobe for. Her mouth was in a constant ‘aww’ mode looking at Jude’s childhood clippings. She was sitting between the brothers on the couch, and they kept filling her in on the context. 

‘What happened to this cute boy?’

She was looking at his 3rd birthday album - big cheeks & puppy eyes tugging at her heart.

‘He got cuter.’

Jude giggled next to her, kissing her cheek, and she couldn’t even deny it factually. There were more clips of him with his little cousins, playing & laughing with them. He was a natural with kids, a downright magnet and hands down favourite.

For the first time, she wondered about having a little version of him running around the house. With Jude running right behind, pretending to lose the race. It did something to her. Something fluffy yet dangerous. She had to physically clutch her chest to keep her heart from hammering against it. Thankfully, they moved to watching a movie next. The first half was a blur, her thoughts still scattered, but the safety of being tucked under Jude’s arm brought her back out of her trance.

In the afternoon, the parents were busy with some calls. Jude wanted to take a nap with Ananya, while Jobe wanted to show her his new collection of thriller novels. She went with the latter, spending some time in Jobe’s room as they discussed their favourite thrillers. When she returned to Jude’s room an hour later, she found him playing a violent video game, filled with guns & explosions. She sat next to him, leaning into his side.

‘Didn’t sleep?’

‘Nuh.’

He kept his eyes firmly on the screen. And it took her precisely 3 seconds to understand he was sulking.

‘Will you teach me how to play this?’

‘Jobe plays this too. Maybe he can show you.’

‘But I want my boyfriend.’

Scrutinising eyes turned towards her, trying to find any hint of sarcasm or flippancy, but was met with sincerity. He softened, easing his stance, pulling her legs into his lap, and proceeded to yap for 20 mins about a game she had zero interest in. But she had always been a fast learner, and actually played two quick turns decently well. Jude beamed with pride, and the pair went to their nap after.

Dinner was brief. Everyone was still stuffed from the heavy lunch. And she had some work to finish. So Jude & her ate in the room - salad for Jude and yesterday’s casserole for her. They both crashed early that night, tired from the day’s activities.

Sunday morning came. She had to head out that evening, these were their last few hours together till next Sunday when he returned to Madrid. And Jude was particularly needy since waking up. He tried negotiating with all his might, to get her to budge on the ‘no sex rule’, calling it torture. Calling it unfair. An unjust punishment. He tried guilt-tripping, blackmailing, pleading but nothing worked. She stayed firm, and got out of his hold.

It was still early, around 7 am. The house was quiet. He followed her into the kitchen when she came down for some milk, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, trying to kiss her neck.

‘JUDE.’

‘Let’s go to a hotel.’

‘What?’

‘For a few hours. There’s one nearby.’

He knew there was a private one nearby, because he had used it many times earlier. But obviously   omitted that out.

‘You’re out of your mind.’

His hands moved to her butt, cupping & squeezing with force, channelling his frustration. She tried swatting his hands away but was no match to his strength & resolve.

‘Not here.’

‘Yes here.’

‘Pls behave.’

‘Why?’

‘Decorum.’

Denise’s voice from behind made them jump apart in a split-second. Ananya wanted to kill herself. No, she wanted to kill Jude. And Jude knew that. So he stood a good few feet away, outside of her reach.

‘Morning Mom.’

‘Morning Jude.’

‘Was just helping her find…..sugar.’

Ananya cringed internally. It was extra sad because she knew he’d think he was being smart.

‘It’s on the counter.’

‘Right. So…..I’ll head back then.’

Jude retreated soon after, escaping the looks from both women he loved the most in this world. Then, Denise turned towards Ananya and the girl nearly dropped her cup.

She was dressed in Jude’s hoodie from yesterday, and was convinced the universe was trying to kill her with embarrassment. What would Denise think, especially after what she just saw? Should she give an explanation? Should she act like an idiot (like that boy earlier) & find a way to escape? This is not how she imagined her first proper solo conversation with Denise.

‘I..I’m sorry about..that.’

‘You shouldn’t be the one apologising for my son.’

Her tone was on point, but also kinda soft. Ananya just nodded in response, unsure of what else to say.

‘I’m making coffee. Want some?’

‘Yeah sure.’

She saw the graceful woman move around her kitchen meticulously.

‘Thought you’d be a tea person.’

Denise smiled. And Ananya breathed a bit more easy.

‘I was. But last 4 years in Europe changed me a fair bit I guess.’

‘Must have been hard - uprooting your life like that.‘

‘Yeah. But Mark & I kinda knew what it would take to get the boys here.’

‘And it still goes on.’

Denise’s smile was directed straight at her this time.

‘It still goes on. But they are happy, so I’m happy.’

Such a simple line, summarising years of sacrifice and putting her life away for her sons. But it was all worth it, she could see it from the quiet pride & joy in Denise’s eyes when she talked about her boys. What a great woman. A strong, smart, opinionated, loving woman. And such a great mum too!

They stepped into the backyard with their coffee, sitting side by side on the bench. Jude came down to check on the scene once, but saw them chatting away, so went back up quietly. Or so he thought, coz both women heard him & shook their heads.

‘So, 6 months huh?’

‘Yeah. Don’t know where time went.’

‘Happens when you’re in love.’

It was plain as day to Denise that they were in their head over heels phase right now. No question. 

‘I guess.’

‘It’s good to finally meet you.’

‘You too. And I’m sorry you had to find out that way…during Christmas.’

‘Again, not your fault.’

‘Were you surprised?’

‘That he was seeing someone? No. That he was in love? Yes. I’d never seen Jude so desperate like he was to get to you that day.’

‘I…I’m sorry for all the chaos and for…taking him away during Christmas.’

‘Dear, you need to stop apologising for everything. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you gave him hell for that. I would too. All self-respecting women should, but most don’t, for various reasons, which saddens me. He needs to learn that actions have consequences.’

Ananya nodded absent-mindedly, still processing her words. The conversation moved to a few random things about life in Madrid. A few mins later, Denise looked at Ananya with purpose.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, or if you don’t know how to.’

That put her on guard.

‘Okay.’

‘There’s something holding you back from Jude. Something gnawing at you. Am I right?’

Ananya had not seen that coming. Her eyes fell to her lap as she fidgeted with her hands. How did Denise catch that in a day? Literally no words came to her head. Zilch. 

Denise watched her closely. She knew she had hit the nail on its head. Her intuition had just been confirmed. There was something about Ananya’s look, the way she paused in the middle of conversations about the future, or when Mark said she’d join them for Christmas this year. Something flickered on her face, which she usually hid away quickly, but Denise had seen it.

‘Like I said, you don’t have to answer.’

She really shouldn’t. When she hadn’t even been able to properly articulate it to herself. Her boyfriend’s mom, who she was meeting for the first time, should be the last person she should confide in. But there was something about Denise’s demeanour right now which made Ananya want to bare her heart - something kind, motherly, like an older sister or best friend. A wise, comforting, knowing, trusted advisor.

Denise saw her struggle, and reached out to squeeze her hand gently. Ananya held it back, ready to cry at the gesture.

‘I won’t tell him.’

‘I know.’

After a few deep breaths, Ananya let the cat out of the bag.

‘I don’t know if I’m the right girl for him. If I can give him everything he wants in life.’

There was no point denying this anymore. The argument from the last match was playing in her head. It had far deeper connotations, something the couple was avoiding to discuss. Because it would open a pandora’s box of questions & predicaments.

When Jude had asked her to go public that night, her whole system revolved against the thought. Something Jude sensed, which had hurt him. Which made him ask that piercing question. And he was right - there was never going to be a perfect time. Not now. Not for the next two years when she’d be knee deep in her MBA, an ocean away from him. Post that, it would be the first few years of her career, she didn’t even know what would be the best location for it. Maybe US. Or London. Or back home in India - she could always go back to the Mumbai office, to be close to her family. 

And Jude was going to be in Madrid. Her MBA or work won’t allow her enough time to fly in. And long distance would not work for Jude - he simply didn’t have the patience or maturity for it. He needed the constant reassurance of company, physical touch, having someone by his side, someone whose arms he could fall into every night, someone whose world revolved around him, someone who relished his world & the spotlight that came with it, someone he could show off to the world, someone who could deal with all the media/fan frenzy that would always follow him. Without that, he won’t be satisfied, not fully, and at some point he’d look outside for that satisfaction, for companionship, for sex. 

Even in the last few months, she had felt parts of that irritation and dissatisfaction in him, while she was in the same city. A part of her hadn’t been able to forget the despair she felt when she saw Jude’s picture on Christmas, and another part of her felt something like that was inevitable. Like it would come anytime now, and she won’t be able to take it the second time. Heck, she might even blame herself more this time. 

Denise didn’t ask what that line meant. She had pieced parts of it together from everything she had heard about her from the boys, and her face was also telling its own story right now.

‘Have you spoken to him about this?’

‘In parts. On & off, when something or the other pops up. But not directly, no.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘How? I don’t want to hurt him. I can’t. Really do love him.’

‘I know, dear.’

The heart-shaped locket Ananya was wearing was proof of it. Of their love. Denise had the same one & she recognised it immediately. Jude had only given it to two people in his life.

‘But telling him later would hurt him more.’

Ananya squeezed her eyes shut in pain, and Denise scooted closer to her on the bench, her hand still squeezing Ananya’s. 

‘Look, you don’t have to do anything immediately. But at some point, you need to address the elephant in the room. It would eat away at you both otherwise.’

Ananya could only nod in response, the lump in her throat not letting any words come out.

‘Till then, best to not rush into anything.’

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘You know, like, you guys are young and….I can see how you are with each other. Don’t let a weak, vulnerable moment have serious life consequences….for either of you.’

Was she just getting sex talk from her boyfriend’s mother? To not rush into a….marriage….or a child???

Denise could see the mix of embarrassment and shock on Ananya’s face. But it needed to be said. The closeness they had, anything could happen. They were like pieces which weren’t even from the same board but somehow interlocked perfectly. Like magnets. Something she couldn’t articulate but felt deep in her heart every time she saw them together.

Ananya wanted the ground to split and swallow her whole. Now was a good time to run away, coz she couldn’t believe what had just happened with her. And she did run away, after thanking Denise for her counsel.

She ran straight to Jude. He was in bed, half drowsy, but his face lit up when she walked in. He lifted the blanket, inviting her in and she rushed to settle in next to him, letting him hug her close, burying her face into his chest.

‘That was some chat, yeah?’

‘I think your mom just gave me the talk.’

She was still in shock. And Jude just laughed loudly in her ear.

‘What?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘To not let me knock you up?’

‘Pretty sure that’s what she was hinting at.’

‘Unreal. And she spoke to you about this, not me?’

‘Maybe she thought I’d take her more seriously on this.’

‘Yeah, possible. But that’s funny. No wonder you look so red.’

Jude tilted his head to kiss her cheeks and she sighed at the comfort of it.

‘Dad gave me the same talk by the way.’

‘WHAT? When?’

‘Last night. I just laughed it off. But mom? Wow. Can they not see we are kids ourselves?’

‘You are.’

‘Ouch. But yeah, you are older I guess.’

She smacked his chest with force.

‘By 2 months. Shut up.’

‘It’s cool. I like older women.’

‘You are such a juvenile. And they thought I’d let you get me pregnant? Nonsense.’

Jude whispered slowly, playfully in her ear.

‘Not now. But one day, you will. One day, I’ll put babies in here.’

She froze. Her skin turned cold at those words. Alarming him.

‘Heyy heyy I was kidding. Pls don’t freak out.’

She sat up in bed, throwing the blanket away.

‘Ananya - look at me. C’mon. Forget what I said, was just messing with you.’

He rubbed her arms & back, but she scooted away, setting some distance between them on the bed. 

‘It’s too much. It’s too hard…Jude…’

‘Baby, what’s happening?’

‘Are you happy?’

‘What?’

‘Are you happy with me? Honestly?’

Jude stared at her incredulously, trying to figure where she was going with this. Did she really need to ask him? 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too. But….’

‘I AM happy. Aren’t you?’

‘I am…for now…but…’

‘But what? What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?’

‘It’s not all of a sudden. You know what I’m talking about.’

Her voice was barely a whisper now, and it scared the living daylights out of him.

Yes, he knew. All those little unsaid things between them that seemed unsurmountable, he had felt them too. Both had tried to brush them under the carpet. But it was all bubbling over now in a cruel way.

But letting her pull away was not an option. He reached for her, grabbing her arms, pulling her close, despite her protests.

‘We can work it out.’

‘HOW? I may have to leave in a few months for my MBA. And I want to, I really do. It’s my dream, my family’s dream. It’s all I have been working for since I was a kid. It’s why I have studied so hard. Can’t give it up Jude, can’t do that to myself or my family.’

Funny thing was, a part of her did want to give it all up, just to stay with him. And that scared the shit out of her.

‘I know.’

A part of him wanted to keep her back in Madrid too, by his side, selfishly, but he was starting to see it wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t right. 

She slumped against him, speaking in whispers again, and he held her gently, like a delicate precious object.

‘Between you & my career - I don’t know how to do justice to both.’

Jude was trying hard to be strong for both of them. To not break down right now. But it was killing him from the inside. The thought of waking up knowing she wasn’t his anymore was so terrifying that he had compartmentalised this in his head, even though her going away had been on the horizon more & more.

‘And it’s not just that - we’re so different. I don’t know if I can really make you happy. If I can be….who you want me to be…I….’

Theirs was a clash of sensibilities, of moral compasses, of cultures, of core beliefs. 

‘Shhhhh baby, baby, you make me so happy you have no idea. Can never put it into words what you do to me. You make me a better person. I love you. I love you so much, dove.’

Tears came down her cheeks, breaking his heart into pieces, but he let her soak his jumper with it. 

‘Look at me. C’mon love, look at me.’

He cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up.

‘Here’s what we are going to do. No big decisions for now. Nothing that gets us like this. No need to go public or anything. Let’s just do what we are doing, what’s working for us.’

‘But that’s not what you want….you want to go public….you want more…’

‘Not at the cost of you. Not if I can’t come home to you anymore. Do you get that?’

She nodded slowly. 

‘One step at a time. Nothing too drastic. We have 4 months before you leave, yeah? Let’s just make the most of it. Move in with me, if that’s not too scary for you. Let’s just stick to each other. And when you do leave, we’ll find a way to make it work if we want it that much. I know we can.’

She wanted to believe him, so so badly. But life just didn’t work like that.

‘It’s not so easy. You’re saying that now but….when I’m not around…will you….Jude I can’t take another incident like that I just can’t. It’ll break me.’

‘I know. And can you see why it won’t happen? Because I know that would be the end of us. You will never forgive me again. It’s not easy. No one said it would be easy. But tell me this - would you not have moved heaven & earth to be with your ex, no matter the challenges, the differences, instead of giving it all up?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘So why not now?’

Because life had taught her it wasn’t a bed of roses. She knew that now. She wasn’t that naive girl from earlier.

‘Is it because you….loved him more…than me?’

The crack in his voice hurt her in ways she didn’t even know was possible. Ananya reached desperately for his face, cupping his cheeks, kissing him all over.

‘No babu. Don’t ever say that. It’s not true.’

‘Then let me love you. Let me show you I’m not the same person anymore. Destiny & fate & distance can fuck right off - if you’re with me, if you trust me then we’ll make it. Remember I told you not being with you is not an option? It’s true. I won’t know what to do with myself. You’re my whole heart, I’m obsessed with you, I need you. And I’ll keep loving you till you love me the same way.’

‘I do love you the same way.’

‘Then show me. Fight for us. Don’t ever think of pulling away. Don’t leave me, Ananya.’

‘Oh Jude.’

They reached for each other at the same time, lips crashing together. She didn’t know whether she pulled him on top or he pushed her down, but there he was, kissing her like his life depended on it, pressing her into the mattress. Both channeling their love & desperation into the frantic kiss. 

Ananya didn’t stop him when his hands reached under her clothes, pulling them off. She couldn’t. Because she needed to feel his love, his reassurance, just all of him. And Jude would have cried if she tried to take that away from him. Quite literally. 

‘Just….make me forget this baby….just wanna remember you.’

‘Gladly.’

He lived up to his promise. In all his kisses and caresses and praises, she was transported to a different world. Their world. Where nothing else mattered. Just him & her. And it was enough. It had to be enough. They’d will it to be enough. 

‘Say yes, Ananya.’

She didn’t know what he was asking for, or what all he was asking a yes for. But she wanted to give it to him. She wanted to give him everything. 

‘Yes.’

‘My sweet dove.’

‘My beautiful prince.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

‘Not possible.’

It was too soon to think of growing old together, so they decided to grow up together. Taking on the world together and everything it threw at them. One step at a time. 

...................................................................

Well, there you go! 17k words. The end of Star Crossed Lovers.

I don't even know how to begin thanking you for all the love you have given to this series, and to Jude & Ananya. What your messages have meant to me.

Thank you for waiting patiently for 2 months for this final chapter. For constantly motivating me & sending me good vibes. You've been the best readers, so you deserved a long-ass chapter to conclude this roller-coaster journey.

I'll be taking a break from writing now. But it's been such a ride with you guys.

And ofcourse, as always, I am chomping at the bit to hear your thoughts on this chapter. This was truly a labour of love, and the last one, so pls do share your thoughts extensively with me. I can not wait to hear you guys 💜

Thanks again!

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Eight: Close Encounters

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The door clicked shut as Caleb and [Reader] stepped into their apartment, both exhausted from a long day at work.

With a sigh, [Reader] plopped onto the couch, kicking off her heels as she leaned back against the cushions.

Caleb chuckled at the sight before heading to the kitchen. "You look dead tired."*

"I feel dead tired," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Long day. You?"

He took a swig of water before joining her on the couch. "About the same. But I just got off the phone—the passenger from earlier is okay. Stable condition."*

Relief flooded her expression. "That’s good to hear."*

The tension from the day slowly melted away as they sat in comfortable silence.

Until she noticed—

Their faces were close. Too close.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized there was barely an inch between them.

Caleb was watching her, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips, his own slightly parted.

For a second, time seemed to slow.

Then panic kicked in.

Flustered, she shoved him lightly. "Y-You should go change!" she blurted, sitting up straight. "I-I mean, you just got home, and uh—we should watch a movie! Yeah, let’s do that!"*

Caleb blinked at her reaction before smirking. "You’re acting suspicious. Did I almost steal a kiss just now?"

"W-What?! No!"

"Hmm…" He leaned closer, as if testing her resolve.

She grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face. "Go change, you idiot!"*

He laughed, standing up. "Alright, alright. I’ll be back."*

By the time he returned, freshly changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, the lights were dimmed, and a movie was playing on the screen.

Except—

[Reader] was fast asleep.

She was curled up on the couch, her face relaxed, the soft glow of the TV illuminating her peaceful expression.

Caleb exhaled a quiet chuckle. "So much for movie night."*

Grabbing a blanket, he carefully draped it over her, making sure she was warm.

Just as he was about to step away, a faint ding echoed in the room.

He glanced at the source—her phone, which was sitting on the coffee table.

The screen lit up with a message.

Senior Officer Lee: [Reader], a few of us are going for hotpot tomorrow. You in?

Caleb frowned slightly, an unfamiliar feeling stirring in his chest.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t go out with colleagues, but something about the casual invitation from another guy—a senior at that—made his brows furrow.

His jaw tensed.

What is this feeling?

He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he stole one last glance at her sleeping form.

Was he… jealous?

The morning light streamed through the kitchen window as [Reader] settled into her chair, idly munching on a slice of bread with scrambled eggs.

The apartment was quiet.

"Caleb must’ve left early again…" she mumbled, absentmindedly poking at her food.

Her brows furrowed as she thought back to last night.

The last thing she remembered was watching a movie with Caleb on the couch, then—nothing. But now, she had woken up in bed.

"Wait…" she muttered, realization dawning. "Did he carry me?"

Her face warmed at the thought.

Shaking her head, she picked up her phone, noticing an unread message.

Senior Officer Lee: [Reader], a few of us are going for hotpot today. You in?

Her lips curled into a small smile. Knowing that Tara would also be there, she quickly typed out a reply.

[Reader]: Sure! See you there.

Meanwhile…

At the airport, Caleb was walking toward his aircraft, phone in hand, typing out a message before his flight.

Caleb: Heading out for my flight now. Will be back late tonight.

As he hit send, his co-pilot, Mason, peeked over his shoulder. "Texting your wife?"

Caleb slid his phone into his pocket with a nod. "Yeah. Just letting her know I’ll be back late."*

Mason grinned. "Smart move. My girlfriend gets upset if I don’t check in. She says if I don’t update her, she starts feeling insecure."*

Caleb raised a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah, women like to know they’re being thought of. Trust me, it helps in the long run."*

Caleb thought for a moment.

Would [Reader] feel the same? Would she get upset if he didn’t check in?

Maybe.

With that thought, he figured keeping her updated wasn’t a bad idea.

However, when he checked his phone before takeoff, his message had been left on read.

No reply.

His expression darkened slightly.

Did she just ignore me?

For the rest of the flight, an unshakable irritation settled in his chest.

Later that Night – The Hotpot Dinner

The restaurant was lively with chatter, the scent of simmering broth filling the air as [Reader], Tara, and a few of their colleagues enjoyed the meal.

Across the table, Senior Officer Lee had been subtly paying attention to [Reader] throughout the evening—refilling her drink, making sure she got the best cuts of meat, and nodding along attentively whenever she spoke.

Tara, ever the observer, leaned in close to whisper, "He’s been paying a lot of attention to you tonight."*

[Reader] blinked. "Huh? That’s just how he is. He’s always been polite."*

Tara gave her a look but let it slide.

As the dinner wrapped up, the three of them walked toward the car park. Tara was in the middle of making another playful remark when [Reader]’s phone rang.

Caleb.

She answered, "Hello?"

His deep voice came through. "I’m outside. Come out."*

She glanced around. "Wait, you’re here?"

"Yes. Come now."*

[Reader] looked up and, sure enough, Caleb’s sleek black car was parked near the entrance, his figure visible in the driver’s seat.

Before she could react, Officer Lee stepped forward slightly, an annoyed crease forming on his forehead. "Oh? Seems like you won’t have time to stay for a little more fun."*

Tara noticed the shift in his tone and side-eyed [Reader], already sensing the tension.

But [Reader] wasn’t paying attention. She was already jogging toward Caleb’s car.

Tara and Officer Lee stood there, watching as she opened the passenger door.

What they weren’t expecting—

Was for Caleb to suddenly pull [Reader] into a kiss the moment she slid inside.

Her breath hitched, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as his lips moved against hers, firm yet teasing.

Flustered, she pulled back, eyes wide. "W-What was that for?!"

Caleb leaned back, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. "What? Can’t a husband greet his wife?"

Outside the car, Officer Lee clenched his jaw.

Caleb, still holding [Reader]'s gaze, glanced in the rearview mirror, noticing the senior officer's lingering stare.

His smirk deepened.

Yeah. That’s right. She’s mine.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos @auriuswolve @bookworm1999 @sickleddreamer @heeknow

[sanccharine]

02 | first sight

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, parents could be pushy, also mentions of the cheating

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: really wanted to get this out so here it is. that being said, to any new people to this account, i suck at schedules so please do not expect timely posts on this series, love and peace on planet earth <3

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

“Hey.”

“Hey, hey—oh, sweetheart, we can’t see your face?” 

Well, yeah. You had your phone facing the ground. 

Biting down the groan, you looked around to locate the switch to turn on the living room lights. “Just give me a second, I’m doing something, I’ll just—” 

Fingers barely scraping the edge of the light switch, you turned on your knees, almost standing up at full height when you turned on the switch. The perks of earning money and designing the home you wanted was the fact that you installed dimmer lights. A warm welcoming amber slowly washed over the room, lighting up everything you hoped you wouldn’t see until tomorrow’s sunlight reminded you.

Moving boxes. Lone boxcutter. Discarded clothes. 

With a sigh, you took your place back on the floor and reached for your phone. 

“There you are!” your dad basically screamed, forcing you to push your phone far away from you and spam the volume button to lower the noise. 

“Here I am,” you groaned as you brought the phone back to show your face. 

You look like shit. 

“You look like shit,” your dad said, only to receive a smack from your mother. “What, it's true! Are you not eating? You look like you’ve lost weight. Is that husband of yours not feeding you—!”

His face blurred as the phone was yanked away from him and instead replaced by your mother’s face. 

“Not husband,” you joked as usual, though now more sardonic than ever before. 

“Yet,” your father added as he shoved himself back into the screen. 

For a man who could barely tell the difference between granulated sugar and powdered salt, you’re not surprised his poor observational skills extended to being unable to read the room. Or just identify emotions, for that matter. 

“That’s enough,” your mother said, standing up and moving away to another room but not before throwing your father a pointed glare. Your father protested, but he was far too lazy to actually follow your mother, so his voice died out when the door closed. With a similar sigh to you, your mother seated herself on your childhood bed. “Why are you on the floor, sweetheart?” 

If your father was as perceptive as a distracted toddler, then your mother was the exact opposite. 

Attempting to steer away from her question would be futile. 

With another sigh, you admitted. “I’m just tired I guess.” 

She pursed her lips. You could guess what she would say, but was stopping herself as you had asked her to do. At least one of your parents attempted to understand your boundaries and requests. 

Why don’t you buy a car?

“Why don’t you lie down on your bed?” 

That’s not a better question but you couldn’t fault her, she didn’t know your situation. Mentally shaking away your desire to whine, you answered truthfully. Or at least as truthfully as you could without revealing what just happened. 

“I don’t know, I just find the floor comforting I guess,” you attempted a small chuckle. It felt forced even to your ears. 

“You still haven’t set up the bed, have you,” she angled her question as a statement, if only to attempt to join in on your poor excuse. 

“No, I haven’t,” your words trailed off at the end, you couldn’t carry the light tone. Should you have said ‘we’?

“Did your fiancé not help?” 

You couldn’t look your mother in the eye. Instead, you stared past your phone and at the gray slacks on the floor. 

Your mother hummed a note of question before moving on. “Please set it up over the weekend, sweetheart.”

“I will.” You will. 

“I’ll let you go now. Eat dinner please before you go to sleep, order something if you have to,” she said, reading you as easily as a children’s tale. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

Mumbling your ‘I love you’ back, you cut the call and dropped your phone to the floor. 

Dinner. Sleep. Work. Then the weekend. 

One more day before you could let yourself shatter into a million unidentifiable pieces that could never be put back together. One more day. 

You barely slept. The couch wasn’t exactly made for sleeping. And breakfast was a cereal bar you found at the back of your cupboard. It will have to do. 

Making sure you were somewhat presentable for a nine-hour shift, you exited your apartment. 

Just as you stepped out, you caught a glimpse of the person living opposite you. The briefest of images since he was turned away from you. The most striking feature being his broad back nearly covering the width of the door. His hair was a black tousled mess and matchingly he was dressed head to toe in black. Though, what startled you was his greeting. 

“Good morning,” his voice was low, soft, still groggy from sleep. And with that, he was in his apartment and locking his door. 

You stood at your door for a second, a hand on your door handle, the door waiting to be closed so it can automatically lock your apartment. Darting your gaze up and down the corridor, you come to the conclusion he was talking to you. So you did what anyone would do.

“Uh, morning,” although your greeting was to an empty door. 

Well, at least now you couldn’t say you never interacted with your neighbour. 

Shaking away your confusion, you made your way to the elevator and walked to the bus stop near your block. It was a short walk so the interaction was fresh in your mind. Though not for long. 

“Good morning!” a cheery tone greeted you, as you came to a stop by the bus station. You knew that voice.

In an instant, you were looking to your left. It was the young girl from last night!

“Nice to see you again,” she smiled at you, all wide and chipper. 

This time around her hair was in two braids on the other side of her face, tied up with carefully crafted purple ribbons. You doubted the bows would last the school day, though they did look adorable. Her school bag was almost more than half her size and you noticed the patterns of dinosaurs. They were hand-drawn, cartoon-like, so the dinosaurs looked a bit goofy, you supposed, but identifiable nonetheless. And the colours… were colourful, for sure, but the only thing that matters was that she likes it. So purple and dinosaurs are a favourite. Cute. 

The young girl was also holding a carry bag with containers of… cupcakes.  

“Uh, yeah, morning, kid,” you stammered much like you did with your neighbour. “Nice to see you too.”

“Did you sleep well?” she asked without missing a beat and you couldn't help but look around to check if she was still talking to you. 

No, not at all.

“Yeah, decent. You?” you asked out of politeness, still facing the road. 

“Could’ve been better, to be honest,” she chuckled to herself. “I think my father is more exhausted though.” 

“Oh, is that so?” What were you doing?

“Yeah, we were up all night making cupcakes! He stayed up much later though,” She shook the bag in her hands. Alright, they were cupcakes. 

“Oh,” you repeated as you stalled for a way to converse with a child. “Nice.” 

“Would you like to try one?” She was already reaching into her bag and opening the container. 

“Oh, no! No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Here you go, I designed this one!” 

Extending her hand, you saw the beautiful cupcake she picked out. The icing was a harmony of delicate purples, pinks, and blues. They were piped to a precision that only a steady hand could bring, the design formed a flower… the name of which slipped your mind. 

“They’re hydrangea cupcakes, because, you know,” the girl said, wiggling the cupcake in front of you like some bait. “Do they look like them?” 

You stared at the cupcake, then at her and nodded. Hydrangeas, yeah, those. 

“That’s good, I worked really hard to learn how to pipe them,” she giggled before pushing the cupcake closer to you. 

Now, would you be an asshole to reject her? 

Thinking of how to navigate this social situation, you were reminded of last night. That same smile of hers and her near-perfect manners. 

“Listen, kid, about last night,” you started, still only looking at the treat. “I hope I didn’t freak you out or—”

“No worries, I know you were only concerned for me,” she nodded, urging you to take the cupcake. “Please take it, as a thank you. My father also appreciated it.”

“Alright,” you shifted your laptop bag in your hand before taking the cupcake with an awkward smile. 

The girl just stared at you, waiting… right.

With another brief smile, you peeled the cupcake sheet to take a bite. 

Maybe it was the fact that you craved sugar from all your stress. Or perhaps the fact that you had a questionable breakfast. But the cupcake was absolutely divine. It took all of your strength not to shove the cupcake into your mouth and gulp it down. The icing was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the sponge cake balanced it out.

Gulping down a bite, you nodded. “So good.” 

Her smile widened, that sparkle in her eyes returning again and you couldn’t help but share that smile with her. Something about her carefreeness alleviated the burning in your chest. A brief reprieve from the shitshow that is your life, but a reprieve nonetheless. 

“What are you making cupcakes for?” you asked, a genuine curiosity laced in your small voice before taking another bite.

“We have a bake sale today, so,” she shuffled her bag in her hand, though only slightly so as to not mess up the treats. 

You frowned, reaching into your pocket as you asked, “hold on, should I be paying you?”

“Oh, no! No, like I said, this is a gift,” she shook her head when she saw you pull out your wallet. 

“You sure? I don’t mind,” you said, rooting to pull out some notes. “How much?”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” she grinned, pink tinting her round cheeks. She was so adorable that you felt bad for getting a free cupcake, but you doubted she’d take your money. 

Nodding, you put away your wallet before turning back to the road, both of you patiently waiting by the bus stop for your respective buses. It was so early in the morning, that the sky had barely lightened. You travelled early to beat the rush of the trains. The last thing you needed was being smushed next to other people and tolerating their presence first thing in the morning. 

Pausing your internal grumbling, you turned to the little girl and frowned. “Kid.”

She craned her neck to look up at you, a hum as her response. 

“Why are you up this early?” you asked, it was a fair question considering there were only two other students at the bus stop. A young boy and a girl, though they wore different uniforms. Surely, these buses can’t be arriving so early for these kids. 

“My school is quite far,” she said, her demeanour dimming just slightly. “So I’m the first to be picked up and last to be dropped.” 

Well, that was some terrible luck. 

“When does school start?”

“We have to be in the homeroom by seven forty-five.”

It was just about six-thirty.

“That is…” Fucked is the word you’d like to use, but you doubt that's appropriate language to use with a child. “That—That sounds awful.”

“It really is,” she agreed but then shrugged, easily shaking off her fleeting somberness. “But it gives me time to catch up on my sleep!” 

Well, that’s a positive spin. And it works considering she didn’t need to be concerned about missing her stop. 

“Fair enough,” you nodded and turned back to the road. Your bus should be here soon. 

Another silence banketed the pair of you, before your bus pulled into a stop. 

“Good luck with your sale, kid,” you mumble, before adding, “and thanks for the cupcake.” 

Her grin widened, pushing up her rosy cheeks further. It was almost cherub-like. Were kids always this adorable? That can’t be. 

“Thanks, have a good day!” she waved as you climbed in and took a seat. 

She was still waving when the bus pulled away from the stop. 

Of course, you were aware that this would happen but unfortunately, you did not see the young girl later that day. Probably because she returned home way earlier than you did. You hoped her sale went well, and considering her delicious goodies, you were sure she had no problems raking in the cash. 

Somewhat motivated about the weekend, you took a ten-minute break on your couch to ease the pain in your back before starting to clean. The first chore to tackle was the many many bags of take-out that should’ve been discarded a long time ago. Grabbing two bags in each hand to make this a one-time trip, you waddled your way out of your apartment. The garbage chute was only to the right around the corner. 

Just as you were struggling to bring your tired fingers to grab the door handle, the door opened towards you. Stepping back, you shifted your bags to a more comfortable position, waiting for the person to step out. But instead of simply leaving, the person stayed, holding the door for you. 

“Good evening,” they said. Low and delicate. You knew that voice. No longer slow from grogginess anymore. 

And much like in the morning, you fumbled your words. What is with the residents of this building?

“Uh, thanks—and yeah, good evening to you too,” you couldn’t have sounded more reluctant. You stepped into the garbage room as you spoke, pointedly avoiding looking at your neighbour. 

“No problem,” is all he said, before letting the door close after him. You turned in time just to catch his profile, his eyes scrunched shut with a small upward curve at the corner of his lips. 

Was he laughing at you?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: hey chat realistically how long does it take to get over a breakup HFKJSDF

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

taglist: @eternallyghosting

[fireinmoonshot]

if you're okay with the other dagger members, "memorizing their favourite things and treating them when they have a bad day" with mickey (fanboy) please? :')

A/N: Surprise! I rewatched Top Gun: Maverick tonight and since falling in love with Joaquin from Marvel, I have also now totally fallen in love with Fanboy. I've had this request in my inbox for a long time – like the last time I wrote for Top Gun which was... 2023 or early 2024? I cannot remember. Anyway, I'm so sorry this took me forever to get around to, anon! I hope that if you're still around on my blog, you'll enjoy this fic now that I've finally written it. I'm definitely gonna be writing more for Fanboy and for the rest of the Top Gun crew cause my inspiration for writing them again is so strong at the moment. Anyway, enjoy – and remember my requests are always open!

In hindsight, Mickey Garcia should have asked for help getting everything from his car to the Hard Deck. He’d put a few things in a bag, but it was still incredibly awkward to hold it all and he could only hope that someone would be kind enough to open the door with him. He’d already had to kick the door to his truck shut with his foot.

The whole team was meeting up at the bar tonight, celebrating a successful training day – though it hadn’t been super successful for all of you. You’d made a mistake and been absolutely reamed by Maverick and Cyclone. It’d almost made you decide not to come out tonight, but Natasha had convinced you to come along, saying it’d help to be around your team rather than be alone.

Mickey had made his decision pretty quickly and as soon as you’d all been dismissed, he’d hopped into his truck and spent his few spare hours driving around the city and collecting things for you.

He’d been keeping a list in the notes section of his phone about things you deem your ‘favourite things in life’ ever since he first started falling for you. Considering how long ago that was, he long since should have confessed but when it came to you, well… the poor aviator was tongue tied more often than not. 

Chocolate (specifically anything with caramel)

Iced Coffee (but not too much ice)

Romance books.

Sunflowers.

He’d selected a handful of things off your list and done his best to track them all down – even going so far as to arrange them in a small hamper. Well… it had meant to be small. But things had gotten a little out of hand at the bookstore and instead of leaving with one book like he’d planned, he’d ended up asking for recommendations and had left with four. That, along with three blocks of chocolate, a bouquet of sunflowers and an extra large iced coffee (without too much ice), were what he was attempting to safely get inside.

You were none the wiser to Fanboy’s plans, sitting in the corner with the other members of the team. Nat was sat beside you, nursing her first beer of the night, and Jake and Javy were just starting a game of pool with the others. It was difficult for you to really focus on your friends rather than the words swimming in your mind, berating you for your mistake. 

Everyone said it was an easy enough mistake to make – it could’ve been anyone – but in the real world, not in a training exercise, you know it could’ve cost you or someone else their life. 

You’re just about to get up and head to the bar to get your first drink of the night in an attempt to numb the thoughts in your head when you spot Fanboy making his way through the room. It’s not busy yet, but with what the man is carrying, he knocks into several people on his way over towards you.

“What the hell is he doing?” Nat says from beside you, beer paused halfway to her mouth.

“Has he organised a date or something?” Bob asks, sitting across the table from you, his eyes also focused on Fanboy. He looks just as confused as the rest of you do – your whole team now staring at him.

He stops when he reaches your table, huffs out a breath and then grins. “Hey guys.”

“You good, Fanboy?” Nat questions, motioning to the flowers, coffee and the bag in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m good!” He seems chirpy, as usual. He puts the bag down on the table, it making a thudding noise as it hits the wood. Whatever is in there must be pretty heavy. Then, he surprises you by making his way around the table to where you’re sitting. “So, this is for you.” He hands you the iced coffee he’s holding, as well as the incredibly large bouquet of sunflowers – your favourite. 

“For me?” Your eyebrows almost hit the roof.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you thought Mickey was cute. You had done ever since you’d first met him a long time ago now. Part of you had always wondered ‘What if?’ but the reasonable part of you that refused to let yourself date co-workers or fellow aviators won out every time. But here he was… delivering you flowers and iced coffee?

“Yeah, the ice might be a bit melted by now – it’s like a hundred degrees out there – but I blasted my air con the whole way here so I could try and keep it cool,” he explains, so incredibly nonchalantly despite the fact that he’s clearly gone out of his way to do this. “And I know sunflowers are your favourites so…”

“How do you know that?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I just remember you mentioning it one time.”

He figures you don’t need to know about the note on his phone – not just yet, anyway. He could save that for if he ever actually gets the courage to ask you on a date and confess his feelings to you. Right now, that would likely come across as a little creepy.

Nat pipes up. “What’s in the bag, Fanboy?”

“Oh, that!” He says, hurrying back over to the bag as if he’s forgotten it existed – truly, he kind of did. He was so focused on the look of pure happiness on your face that he forgot half your present was still waiting. “So, this…” He continues, carefully pulling the hamper out of the bag, “is also for you! I found you some books, I hope you haven’t read them yet.”

Before Mickey can even take a step towards you to give the hamper to you, you’re off your seat, hurrying over to him. He barely even has time to put the hamper on the table before you’re flinging yourself into his arms. He swears his heart stops and then re-starts at the sudden contact, the feeling of your body pressed into his.

Well… this is new. 

“What the hell, Mickey?” Your voice is soft in his ear as you hug him tightly.

“I know you had a tough day so…” He mutters in reply.

“People usually just buy me a beer if I’ve had a tough day, they don’t go out and buy me all of my favourite things,” you laugh a little, pulling away from the hug. Mickey already misses the contact as you step away from him. “And you bought me books?” 

You lean down to inspect the hamper on the table.

“Have you read any of them?” Mickey asks, watching you carefully. “If you have, I think I can exchange them. I kinda befriended the girl that works at the bookstore. She helped me pick them out.” She also definitely thought Mickey was buying books for his partner, so that was probably why she was so helpful – he knows that.

“No, but I’ve heard good things about this one!” You point at one of them, then turn back around to look at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know? I really would’ve been okay with a free beer and some good company.”

Mickey shrugs, suddenly a little shy. “You deserve it.”

“Okay, this is sweet and all,” Nat starts, immediately reminding both you and Mickey that you’re in the middle of a bar surrounded by your team and it’s not just the two of you. “But this does not mean you get to sit in the corner and read all night, okay? And I want a piece of that chocolate – the caramel swirl one.”

You laugh at her, shaking your head at how blunt she is, and turn back to Mickey. You surprise him again by reaching out your hand, taking his and giving it a squeeze. It’s like an electric shock travelling up his arm. 

“Will you come sit with me?” You ask him. “We can read the summaries of all of the books you got me and you can help me decide which one to read first. Obviously when I get home, since I’ve been banned from reading here tonight.”

Mickey nods, already loving the idea just because it means he gets to sit next to you and spend more time with you. You don’t let go of his hand as you move back to where you were sitting before, making Nat shuffle up a bit so that Mickey can fit beside you on the booth. 

“You really made my day, you know that?” You squeeze his hand again before letting go so you can grab the hamper and start to get the books out.

He can’t help the smile that comes to his face. “I’m glad I could make you smile.”

[birbmotherpigeon]

HERMIT UNIVERSITY socmed

Part 6

It was Lunch time. Grian was waiting for Joel and Jimmy to finnish band practice and join him. He sat at the steps to the architect building. It was the prettiest spot on campus. It was also where every student passed by when going between classes and dorm rooms. It also just so happens that this was where Grian had seen a certain shirtless man running after a cat the other day, but that's neither here nor there....

Not today though, not today all men passing by where aptly dressed and no cats where in sight. Grian sighed at his predicament.

"Hey now, don't be rude" Pearls voice broke Grian free from his thoughts as she sat down with a lunchbox next to him.

"Pearl! You startled med" Grian whined as his sister put down the lunch box. Pearl rolled her eyes at the younger.

"You wouldn't be startled if you had paid attention. I called your name twice you know" She said. She wasn't annoyed at all but a older sibling has to feign the annoyed look sometimes.

"What you looking for?" She changed the subject, Grian wasn't sure if he was gonna come clean. Pretty sure she would tease him.

"Just people watching" He said, it was a half truth.

"Aha....Not looking for that shirtlessman then?" She gave a amused look to her brother. Grian made a face at her even though she was right

"No...." before they could continue their back and forth Grian locked his eyes onto a passerby. He was tall, His black hair eas slicked back with what seemed like pure engine grease yet he was wearing a full suit. He was carrying all kinds of mechanical parts in his arms. Both him and his parts where covered in some kind of red dust. Pearl just looked at her brother and the man who's his eye had caught. She looked to be questioning him.

"Dude stop starring-" She started but before she could finish Grian had cut her off throwing her hand before his sisters face "Quiet woman!! I need that man" He said hastily, he wasn't really sure how but that man was hypnotising. Pearl just sighed and opened her phone. Grian was too much of a scary cat to actually approach the mystery man so after looking at the man for a moment longer he too opened his phone. Only to see his sister had made a post about him.

On a different side of campus the theater club had just finished of a meeting. Scar was very happy with the musical for this year. He was a huge Disney nerd, so of course he would know Anastasia by art too. He was going to audition for Demitri he'd decided. although that was ways away since auditions don't open until next week.

Previous Part:

Next Part

[widgenstain]

Paternal Leave review

@sassyruinsbasement pointed out to me that Paternal Leave would be shown on the Sunday I was in Berlin, so I pretty much booked a ticket the next second.

Thanks to my incredible planning skills (I have none) I was a little late to arrive at the cinema, there was open seating, so the room already was quite full. I went to the front to check where there were some seats left and low and behold, there was a spot in the front row, right at the center of the little stage where the Q&A would be held later on. I didn’t know that was happening beforehand, but I was very pleased and excited when the guy introducing the movie said that Juli, Luca and Alissa were in attendance.

Now to the important things: The movie.

Paternal Leave ran in the Generation 14plus competition, ergo it clearly is a film directed at a younger audience, but that didn’t take anything away from my enjoyment. It might have enhanced it even. The film is gentle, beautifully so, like so few films aimed at adults are.

15-year-old Leo from Germany travels to an Italian coastal town in winter, to meet her biological father, who she had no contact with before. She does it without the knowledge of her mother, who is a stressed-out-by-night-shifts voice on the phone only, and who had kept most information about her father from Leo. Paolo is a struggling surfing instructor, who tries to keep his surfing school from being swept away by the sea and who struggles even harder to mend his relationship with his new estranged partner and his kindergarten aged daughter. Neither father nor daughter are prepared for the meeting, and it goes rockier than one would have hoped.

There are so many traps the movie could have fallen into, fish out of water cliches, German - Italian stereotypes, overly dramatic developments, saccharine solutions, but it beautifully and skillfully steers around them, all while retaining a gentle sweetness. One would not guess that this is Alissa Jung’s debut as a director. There are some great directorial and cinematic choices in there, the script, while a bit clunky in some moments is solid and heartfelt and I’m thoroughly impressed by her. Not just because she’s beautiful and pretty much sparkled in real life when she sat down 5 metres away from me.

The acting of course is top notch, that was Juli Grabenhenrich’s debut as well, which is just crazy given how well she carries this, but yeah, everyone else did amazingly well too. Especially Luca, but that was a given, the man is one of the greats. All the hesitation, the confusion, the stress, the fear of what Leo will do to his already combusting life, while at the same time feeling obvious kinship with this strange girl and immediate protectiveness, it all feels so natural, it’s gorgeous.

So is his butt in those jeans, but I digress.

I don’t like the word wholesome much, it makes me think of cookie cutter influencers and this is everything but, but the film truly feels "wholesome" and heartwarming without the kitsch. There are some moments with the local boy I could have dealt without, no matter how well his actor did, but if you’re in the mood for a genuinely sweet movie that doesn’t offer the easiest solutions, yet will restore some of your faith in humanity, watch this.

@kuenstlername

[urween]

Bloody Lamb | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: Bucky would never have imagined that his neighbor was carrying a heavy load on his shoulders. However, he discovers scars on the latter, and thus his vision changes radically.

notes: the temporality is located in a mix of beginning and end of FATWS series; reader operated on the torso

⚠︎ warnings: strong mention/description of mutilation and scars, mention of dysphoria, traumas linked to Hydra

special thanks and credits to @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian who nicely helped me with this story's translation because it was originally written in french, my native language.

french version here

- 1 804 words - 2nd person description

You were just next-door neighbors. He knew you by sight, knew how to define your silhouette and your height, as he could do with his other neighbors. Maybe he also recognized your voice when it echoed in the common corridor, like when Mrs. Jones shouted at her cats running away on the landing. He knew you without knowing you, that fine line that separated so many things and that was not held by anything. Maybe an insistent look from you would turn the weather vane, maybe not. But he knew all his neighbors because whether he wanted to or not he retained the information that emerged from individuals. A soldier had to be able to identify his victims in a crowd. He kept marks, more or less deep cracks that interfered with his daily life. If he hadn’t been the Winter Soldier, surely his mind would never have noticed Mrs. Jones’ slight limp, the smell that came out of Larry’s every Tuesday night, or the particular timbre of your voice. But he did it with everyone, you weren’t special. It would have been special if he could recognize the shoes you wore based on the wet marks left on your soles, the habit you had of always putting your cell phone in your left pocket, or the song you’d been listening to on repeat for the past few days. Then, you would have been special. More than a neighbor on the landing, you could have been his little obsession, the main object of a tease from his friend Sam for example. But that wasn’t the case until now.

“I’m lucky to have you,” the old man murmured.

Yori Nakajima was the neighbor you got along with best. Funny, sweet, and welcoming, you immediately felt at ease with him. Brooklyn was a big city and you had only been here for a short time, so Yori had helped you get familiar with the surroundings. In exchange, you would go see him once or twice a week. You talked most of the time, he would tell you about his youth and the kindness of his late son, and sometimes he would even teach you how to play Go.

"You have more and more fans," you smiled, pointing to a bouquet in the corner of the living room.

As he had done with you, Nakajima often helped young people who were a little lost. He gave them the support they needed so that they could then explore the city on their own. Over the years, he ended up having a small reputation in the neighborhood, and many of his old friends still came to visit him.

"These are irises, my favorite," he explained to you, "a neighbor brought me some this morning."

You leaned over to the coffee table to pour yourself some more tea. The wafting scent of the flowers reached you as you let your back rest against the back of the chair again.

"I thought you had a girlfriend."

Yori chuckled as much as his great age allowed him, nodding to thank you for the tea.

"I'm quite alone, and you and the others keep me company," he confided to you before changing the subject, "but I had an idea about that."

You saw the question coming before the old man could even open his mouth again.

"No, no lovers for me Yori, I already told you," you sighed with a smile.

"You're going off on a tangent right away, who told you I was going to talk about love?” He explained to get your attention again, “I simply think it would be good for you to make friends, and the young man I'm talking about would be a great match for you."

He had been trying for two or three weeks to get you to meet new people because according to him you were too lonely. However, you had explained to him the reasons for this social distancing, he had understood, while suffering too. But he said that time always healed wounds and smoothed out the deep cracks, that you had to open yourself up to life to enjoy it. You understood that, really, but the stability you had finally managed to find couldn't be destroyed, you didn't want to have to rebuild everything.

“You two look a lot alike,” Yori’s wise voice echoed one last time, “hiding in your burrows.”

They weren't fluorescent, or noisy. They didn't attract attention, going unnoticed. Yet one glance at them and the decibels in the room exploded for you. In the past, you would never have imagined that scars could be so talkative. But they were, they proudly recounted their heavy sorrows to remind you that nothing was ever acquired. Everything could disappear overnight, everything could collapse in a fraction of a second. One wrong step, and you would fall back. The wrong person and all your efforts would be reduced to nothing. Living alone wasn't easy every day, but this way you avoided mistakes. No one could predict the reaction of a stranger, while yours was controllable. You knew what not to do, not to mention, the others didn't know it and by the time they understood it could already be too late.

Yori knew about your operation, he knew that you had two beautiful scars on your chest, but it had taken time. It had taken you time. The old man didn't know more, he guessed the darkness that you kept to yourself but he knew someone else in your case, and talking about it didn't always help. Other people knew about your trans identity, you couldn't hide it and you didn't want to anyway. But it remained there, no one went beyond that barrier.

It had also taken you time to let your other scars out in the open. But you quickly realized that no one noticed them. They weren't fluorescent or noisy to them. Hidden on your thighs, dull enough that a curious eye would simply think they were stretch marks. Who would have paid attention? For this reason, you could once again appreciate any clothing revealing these marks. You could wear a simple t-shirt or sweatshirt as pajamas with boxers, and take out the trash in this outfit. You rarely ran into anyone, and even if you did, they didn't pay attention.

However, you didn't expect to come face-to-face with your neighbor on the landing. A man – quite attractive, it had to be admitted – about your age who had a mysterious aura around him since you arrived, as well as gloves. You suspected Yori of wanting to set you up with him, that it was the famous "young man with irises". He came to see your friend very often, you had even crossed paths with them at the bar downstairs from your place the other day. Barnes, that was his name, you had read it on the mailbox next to yours. You didn't know anything more about him and it had never bothered you.

"Good evening,” your neighbor's grainy voice echoed.

You smiled at him, murmuring a polite formula in return, as the rules of society required. With your trash bag in hand, you opened the brown storage lid before throwing your waste in. You didn't expect anything else, there was nothing more to expect, you didn't know each other. So you turned around, smiling at him kindly before closing the exterior door of the building.

But he didn't move, his eyes fixed on the void that a few seconds before had been filled by your thighs. You had scars.

Overnight, you became special. He recognized your footprints, your habits, and your songs. His ears picked up without his consent the slightest noises that passed through the barrier of the walls separating you.

Bucky had seen many scars, first as an American soldier, then as the Winter Soldier. The memories had taken time to come back but those linked to Hydra had never left. Eyelids closed, he still saw those distorted smiles, those pulsing veins. He still saw all those innocents repatriated to these basements as he had been, he saw them gradually lose hope. He still saw the last traces of life leave their lively eyes, he still heard their screams. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself again lying on the camp bed that had been assigned to him. He could imagine again the thoughts that crossed his mind, the last ones seeming to belong to him. I hope they die, he said to himself at the time, regarding his future peers, I hope they never see what I see. Death was a beautiful escape from the prisons of Hydra. If he could have, he would have succumbed to it, but he had been too precious.

He had seen many scars, but never like yours. A torn face, a leg in pieces, or a dog bite were endured, not chosen.

The metal weapon that served as his arm had not been chosen by him at the start. The red star that had adorned it had been imposed on him. The arm he wore today had been chosen by him, but the wound that caused it was nothing but torture. Whether it was an accident or a voluntary act, scars had never been anything but torture in his eyes. Why inflict them on ourselves? Why cut our flesh with our own hands?

They were dull, almost completely blending into your skin, but he had seen them. They had jumped out at him.

He wasn't a nurse, much less a doctor, but he knew how to recognize these kinds of things. It wasn't a cat or some accident that had caused these marks, it was you alone. The place, the depth, the angle. It was mutilation, and he had strangely never seen that.

By dint of seeing only horrors, deaths, attacks, and more, Bucky ended up forgetting the others. Those who suffered without showing it, who cried in silence. Not everyone had an arm missing or purple skin to show their misfortunes. He had the example of Yori, but he had never noticed that in you. Unconsciously, he liked imagining a happy being living next to him, maybe you could have contaminated him? But he forgot that even the gentlest of lambs had suffered.

He wanted to get to know you, he needed to know you

images : Pinterest

dividers : @/thecutestgrotto, @/strangergraphics and @/pommecita

[catierambles]

Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 7

Samantha didn’t know why it had changed, only that it had. As if sleeping with Geralt had removed some kind of mental block she had in place when it came to the others. While she was normally incredibly monogamous, she found herself wanting all of them. Sy had been surprised but had quickly gotten over it when she had kissed him while he had been making breakfast one morning, her nails running through his shorn hair and making him shiver. Walter had held her tightly when she had ambushed him, his eyes closing as he returned her affections. Mike had been almost giddy, pulling her in for another after she had pulled away and making her giggle from his eagerness. August she was already familiar with in that way, but his kisses still made her toes curl from their intensity.

Maybe it was her growing wolf declaring them as Mates as surely as they declared her theirs. Maybe it was the day she had spent with Geralt making love off and on, his whispered praise and reverent devotions chipping away at the armor she had placed around herself. Maybe they weren’t like Jonathan. Maybe, hopefully, they were different.

Her leg was quickly healing, although her wolf had yet to make an appearance. Something that was unusual according to August. She should have shifted by now, but she hadn’t. Geralt was adamant that he had smelled the infection in the wounds and she still swapped between Omega and Alpha subconsciously. If she hadn’t been infected, if Geralt had been wrong, then that wouldn’t be happening.

They were playing it by ear, basically. It would happen when it happened.

The others were talking about...something, but Samantha wasn't paying attention, too much on her mind. Sy laughed at something Walter said, his fingertips drawing light circles on her calves that were resting in his lap.

“I'm married.” She said suddenly, and all conversation stopped.

“What?” Mike asked.

“I'm married.” She said again, “For a few years now.”

“Samantha?” Geralt asked.

“I'm not going back. I can't go back. He'll--he hurts me. If he finds out I'm a wolf now, he'll kill me. I can't--I’m not going back.”

“Damn straight you ain't.” Sy said, “You're stayin’ here, babygirl. With us.”

“Mike, take Samantha upstairs.” August said, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mike said, “Come on, sweetcheeks. They want to have a Super Secret Macho Alpha Meeting.” He took his hand in hers and Sy gave her calf a quick squeeze before she swung her legs off his lap, Mike helping her stand from the couch as she didn’t quite have full strength back in her injured leg. She gave a squeak of surprise as he suddenly scooped her up in his arms, laughing as he carried her up the stairs. He left the door open when he carried her into his room, dumping her on the bed and making her giggle before laying next to her.

“She’s married.” They heard August say downstairs, and he didn’t sound happy. “You said you looked into her. How did you miss this?”

“Walker, she wasn’t wearin’ a ring and we didn’t find one in her stuff.” Sy said, “Walt didn’t find any pictures on her phone of a guy, no contacts givin’ it away. All she had on her was a couple days worth of clothes, her drivers license, health insurance ID, and Social Security card. No bank card, no credits cards, and only a couple hundred in cash in small bills.”

“She doesn’t have any social media profiles.” Geralt said, “Not even a Facebook. GPS was turned off in her phone and car.”

“These aren’t the actions of someone going out on a jaunt of debauchery away from their spouse.” Walter said, “These are the actions of someone going into hiding.”

“She went off the grid, Walker.” Sy said, “You know well as I what that means.”

“Tell people she’ll be out of communication for a couple days and then never go back. She didn’t want to be found.” August said after a moments silence and sighed. “She said he hurts her.”

“Yeah, she did.” Sy said and Mike reached out, brushing her hair out of her face before leaning in and kissing her sweetly.

“Geralt, you said you did a cursory look?” August asked and Geralt must have nodded, “Can you do a deeper one? If it was bad enough to where the police were called, there’d be reports. If she was ever treated for injuries, there’d be hospital records.”

“Lotta ifs.” Sy said, “Can tell ya from experience, there ain’t always a paper trail for this shit.”

“Sam.” August said, “I know you’re listening. Get down here.”

“Please.” Sy added, “You gotta stop bein’ an overbearin’ prick to her, August. Every time you are, she switches and it’s startin’ to give me a damn headache.” Mike helped her to her feet and scooped her up in his arms again making her smile, carrying her from his room and down the stairs. “Babe.”

“I needed to tell you guys.” She said as she went to her feet, “Geralt, I know I should have said something before we slept together but I—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Geralt said. “You’re my Mate. I will never be ashamed of or regret being with my Mate.”

“We believe you when you say he hurts you.” Walter said, “We do. Honestly. But we need to verify. Council has rules when it comes to this sort of thing, as horrible and invasive as that sounds. If you had a happy marriage, what happened and everything after could be seen as coercion, a calculated act. Mike didn’t lose control, he infected you on purpose. We know he didn’t, but perception and all that. The fact that your husband is abusive lends weight to the idea that you would want to leave him, not felt compelled to because of your burgeoning wolf. The Council knows that’s not how it all works. You’re our Mate, and we are yours, but human society hasn’t quite grasped the intricacies of that dynamic yet.”

“I understand.” She said.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. You won’t go back to him.” Mike said, wrapping an arm around her waist, “We’ll protect you.”

“Did you ever go the hospital for injuries?” August asked.

“Once. For a concussion.” She said and he nodded.

“What’s his name?” Geralt asked.

“Jonathan.” Samantha said, “Jonathan Graves.”

[tmrwsuns]

(𐙚⋆.˚) rainy days

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [asakura jo x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 1k w. curse words! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

requested!

rainy days used to make you sad.

the way the sky would gloom, the sun far gone as the world just wept.

maybe it cried because it was lonely, because life is unfair and it felt like it was losing itself in the fast passing clouds.

or maybe that was just you, and you liked to project.

but it wasn’t like that anymore, not since jo came into your life.

he was like a ray of sunshine that caresses your face, warming your body from the inside out and filling you up with serotonin. you had met, ironically, on a rainy day where the sky seemed to want to drown you on your walk back home from the convenience store.

that, until you felt a presence by your side and an umbrella over your head. you had seen him before around your apartment complex, but he always averted his eyes the minute they connected with yours.

it wasn’t any different then, his attention stuck to his shoes like they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

his warmth made your day then, and it has been ever since.

“yeah, so then she got upset at me because i didn’t want to go all the way to her house” you mumbled, your head resting on your boyfriend’s tummy as you stared at the ceiling.

“you’re so mean to the poor woman,” he mumbled, absentmindedly playing with the strands of your hair as he listened.

“i’m not, i just won’t go all the way there to teach her how to get into netflix when i can do it over the phone,” you defended, rolling on your side to cuddle closer to him.

he was so warm against your cold skin. so beautiful and comfortable that you felt like you could just stay there forever. you knew he wanted to, too. judging by the way his entire demeanor seemed to just soften around you, or how those tall walls of shyness he always carried around him disappeared the moment your presence made itself known in the room.

“she probably just wants to see you, angel,” he commented, his voice soft as ever once his eyes had actually caught yours.

“well, she has a lot of free time and money for uber, she can come here” you shrugged, incorporating back up from your laying position to scoot up closer to his face.

“you’re terrible,” he smiled, as fond as anyone could ever look.

“you love me,” you smiled back, grabbing his cheeks and squishing softly. a small giggle escaped your lips at the sight of his now pouty lips, enticing you to duck slightly and kiss him. you know how jo’s kisses worked, though. if you started, there was no stopping you until both of your lips were sore and red from the incessant contact.

“maybe i do,” your boyfriend said, his words sounding muffled because of the current position of his face. 

without being able to control yourself any further, you attacked him with kisses; small pecks showering every inch of skin in his beautiful face with your undying and unwavering love. 

a chuckle escaped from his lips as his arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you into a bear hug and making you collapse on top of his body.

“stop, i'm going to burst at how cute you are,” he groaned, using the new control he had over your body to turn you around until he was the one laying on top of your body.

“hey! that’s my job,” you jabbed at the side of his ribs teasingly before wrapping your arms around his lengthy frame, allowing just enough space for him to move into a comfortable position.

jo moved slightly for a couple of seconds before reaching shelter on the crook of your neck. his body covered the majority of yours, but it didn’t matter. having him like this, you realized he was a sunray on a rainy day, a sort of reminder that there is always a rainbow after a storm.

“we’re going to your grandma’s tomorrow, by the way” jo’s voice broke the comfortable silence, eliciting a groan to escape past your lips.

“but it’s so far away, and we’ll have to stay there for hours,” you pouted.

“she told me she misses us and she sounded like she was about to bawl, it’s only fair” he shrugged, his face still buried on your neck as if he had found his new home.

“she does that because she knows you’ll fall into the trap!” you exclaimed, not being able to conceal the fond smile that made its way onto your lips, tinting your voice with a teasing tone. “you’re so weak willed.” 

“i am not,” your boyfriend complained, lifting from his hiding spot to glare at you playfully. “i just don’t want to see an old woman cry, if anything i’m a good person for wanting to make sure she’s not lonely.”

“sure, because she doesn’t literally live with my cousin,” you rolled your eyes, amusement shining in them. “she just wants to see you, it’s not even about me.”

“well, maybe she’d like you better if you visited her with me,” he teased. just then you noticed the way his hand had snuck under your shirt, tracing small circles in the skin of your waist.

“she’s fine, she had better company with you anyway,” you smiled, leaning closer to him to steal a quick peck. 

“hmm, sure” he mumbled, leaning back in to continue leaving cast kisses on your lips.

“enough about my grandma, what do you want to watch now?” you asked, pushing him back on the bed to lie back on his tummy, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

“whatever you want, princess” he smiled, his hand falling back into your hair to leave tiny forms of affection that he knew melted you completely. just like that, the rest of the rainy afternoon passed. jo’s warmth enveloped you completely, and there was nothing else you’d rather do than just exist together.

★ blue's corner ;; first ever tmrwsuns request we all cheered ! i really hope you like this<3 ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng @hyukabean @lovelyjuju ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @jaes1lvr

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