#even being in the room with someone ELSE'S phone call does it to me.

[fireboltsystem]

(Prev reblog) OH MY GOD AND TELEPHONE CALLS. DUH. CANNOT MAKE A PHONE CALL WITHOUT CRYING.

[nottsangel]

sweet relief — t.n.

pairing: best friend!theodore nott x toxic!reader

warnings: smut 18+, modern au, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, creampie, oral sex (m. receiving), praise, toxic and obsessive behaviour, mentions of threats, mentions of taking/using explicit photos

word count: 4.7k

summary: best friends is all you and theodore were, but the jealousy of seeing him with someone else was suffocating, driving you to take matters into your own hands.

♪ madison beer — sweet relief. moodboard. nav. more.

“Theo?” you softly called out to your best friend, who was too fixated on his phone, grinning uncontrollably at the bright screen as he quickly typed away. Fresh from Quidditch practice, his brown tousled locks looked even darker than usual, still damp from the shower he took, and his handsome face flushed from the warmth. You studied every single detail of his face, from his ocean-blue eyes to his soft, pink lips. 

Lost in admiration, you nibbled on your bottom lip, picking at your nails as he simply hummed in response, not even glancing up from his phone. Normally, you’d get annoyed, moping about how he didn’t pay enough attention to you, but before you even could, your eyes were then drawn from his face to his quick fingers—swiftly moving over the glowing screen—leaving you with a strange, unexplainable feeling. 

You caught yourself fantasising about filthy thoughts that made you feel a rush of shame, but still, you couldn’t help it. It was hard not to imagine how your best friend’s long, deft fingers would feel deep inside of you as they— 

“Alright.” Theo abruptly mumbled, causing you to flinch, snapping you out of your trance before your thoughts could wander further. He locked his black, metal phone and quickly stuffed it into his pocket as he rose to his feet, your eyes intently following his every movement, frustration clear on your face.

“I’ve—” “gotta go, yeah.” you finished his sentence, a hint of disappointment evident in your voice, yet he couldn’t help but grin at your pouty expression, only finding your clingy behaviour endearing. He stepped closer, gripping your jaw affectionately and tilting your head up until your eyes met his, the innocent, doe-like gaze you gave him made him weak in the knees.

“We can hang out later if you want, alright? Just text me, bella. I’ll make time for you.” he murmured in a soothing tone, unconsciously causing a small smile to tug at your lips and your furrowed brows to soften, eventually nodding in agreement. 

“Good girl.” He nonchalantly gave you a quick wink that made your stomach flip as he gently rubbed his thumb over your warm cheek, and you so desperately wanted to keep him close to you, his absence weighing heavy on you each time, yet, you watched him leave the room, making you wonder what he was up to.

But you had your suspicions about where he could be. It wasn’t a secret that he was a player, just like all his friends, with some different girl in his room almost daily. And fuck, it drove you crazy. The thought of him being with someone else filled you with heartache. It was difficult for you. He was yours. 

A few hours passed of you aimlessly scrolling on your phone in the common room, but you already missed his comfortable presence around you. His warmth, the subtle touches, and his charming Italian accent that never failed to make your heart skip a beat— you needed him close to you again, so you opened your messages.

You : Are you free? I’m bored! :( 

Teddy 🧸 : Busy. 

Yup. That was all the confirmation you needed. The short, cryptic text said it all— he was with a girl right now. Fuck fuck fuck. Your relaxed, bored state instantly shifted into rage as sheer jealousy rushed through your entire body, causing you to unconsciously clench your jaw and ball your fists.

It honestly baffled you how girls still dared to come near him, especially considering how many of them you’d already threatened. Yes, threatened. It was no secret among your fellow female students that you were crazy possessive over Theodore— you’d go to great lengths to keep them away from him. He was yours, for fuck’s sake, and you’d do anything to keep it that way. 

Take last week, for instance, when you subtly slipped a menacing note in a girl’s bag after seeing leave Theo’s dorm the night before, sternly warning her that if she ever dared to come near him again, she would deeply regret it. 

Or the week before that, when you somehow got a hold of nudes—through Lorenzo, of course—of a girl who had been hooking up with Theo, essentially blackmailing her with them. Don’t worry, you weren’t going to spread the nudes anyway— no, you weren’t that cruel. And you knew it didn’t even have to get that far because they always seemed to back off instantly, leaving you satisfied and happy. 

And those weren’t the only times you threatened or intimidated girls that have slept with Theo, and it most likely won’t be the last either if he keeps sleeping around like that. Dickhead.

And although you explicitly told every single girl not to mention it to Theo whenever you ‘warned’ them, you were certain he had gotten wind of it somehow, considering how fast news spreads in hogwarts. But surprisingly, he had never confronted you with it, still treating you the same way like he always did. You didn’t know why or how, but you also didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was protecting your friendship with him. 

You quickly rose to your feet, your hand gripping your phone so tightly, it was a wonder it didn’t shatter in a million pieces by the force you were holding it before hurriedly making your way to the Slytherin dorms, your heartbeat rising with each determined step bringing you closer to Theo’s room. 

With your head held high and tension furrowing your brows, you strode through the chilly hallways, the cold air forming goosebumps on your exposed arms and legs, but you didn’t even seem to notice as you stomped your feet forward, your resolute steps echoing as you neared his door. 

When you finally stood in front of it, your hand reluctantly reached for the handle, but you hesitated, pausing for a moment before eventually pulling back. Instead of opening the door right away, you pressed your ear carefully against the wood, trying to catch any sounds coming from inside his dorm room.

As you closely focused on listening, a group of younger students caught your attention, slowing their pace as they noticed you with your ear pressed against a male student’s dorm room door, their puzzled stares lingering on you.

“What are you looking at? Go!” you whisper-yelled in an urgent and stern tone, dismissively waving your hand in the air as they snap out of their trances and quickly rush off, a smug smile forming on your lips at how easily they obeyed. 

Letting out a sigh, you pressed your ear to the door again, your eyes narrowing in concentration as you were holding the doorframe for leverage. Your grip gradually tightened as the sounds from inside grew clearer— loud, high-pitched moans, and a string of ‘Fuck, theo!’s resonated through the wooden door, and you were fighting the urge to punch a hole right through it, but instead your hand drifted down to the door handle.

Without thinking, you pulled it down, and your eyes widened in shock when you realised he hadn’t even bothered to lock it. You impulsively swung the door open without a second though, your heart pounding in your throat as a sudden scream filled the air.

The scene in front of you made your blood boil. A blonde girl—one you recognised from shared classes—frantically grabbed the white sheets to cover her completely naked body while Theo was hovering above her, his eyes locking with yours, yet surprisingly, he didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. 

Your eyes were irresistibly drawn to Theo’s throbbing erection, widening in shock when you realised he was bigger than you ever imagined, desire twisting in your stomach. But you were quickly snapped back to reality by the girl’s shrill, grating voice, pulling you out of the daze.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She screamed, her baby blue eyes narrowing in anger, her tousled blonde locks framing her flushed face and her chest heaving rapidly beneath the sheets. Oh, this fucking bitch.

“Teddy, I’m—I’m so sorry but do you have my dress in your closet? You know, the red one? I just really need it right now…” You lied, biting your lip with your brows furrowed, putting on your best act. A small chuckle escaped his lips, amazed by your terrible timing, yet still finding it adorable, his relaxed demeanour only infuriating her more. 

“Yeah, sure. Hang on a second.” The girl scoffed, glaring at Theo, and you could practically see steam coming out of her ears— but Theo didn’t even acknowledge her, his eyes fixed on you as he flashed you a warm smile that made your face heat up.

“Seriously?! You’re helping her? Now?” Theo simply ignored her, quickly pulling on his boxers as he nonchalantly walked to his closet, his back turned to both you and the girl. For the first time, your eyes locked with her blue ones, and you flashed her a mocking, sly grin. The sweet, innocent facade you put on instantly faded, shifting into one of triumph.

“Here you go, amore.” Theo’s stunning eyes met yours, offering a sweet, sympathetic smile as he handed you the dress, his hand brushing against yours and it felt like time stood still for a moment, gazing up at him through your eyelashes with sparkling eyes until—

“She’s being fucking annoying, can’t you see that?” Lost in Theo’s eyes, you nearly forgot she was in the room as well as she scoffed once more, shaking her head with a sneer, her lip curling and her brows furrowed, “This bitch is doing this on pur—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, you hear me?” Theo suddenly spat, taking quick steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger right into her shocked face.

His demeanour shifted in mere seconds. It even shocked you for a moment— it wasn’t a side of Theo you’d seen before, at least not with girls. He always stood up for you when guys mistreated you, but this… This was different, and ohhh, it made your heart swell. The way fear flashing in her eyes sent a thrilling rush of warmth and affection through you.

“But… Teddy—” Teddy. That was your nickname for Theo. By now, your fists were gripping the dress so tightly that your sharp nails had punctured the delicate fabric, your jaw clenched in sheer anger, barely holding back the rage simmering beneath the surface. Still, you fought to maintain the facade of the sweet, oblivious girl. 

“Get out.” Theo ordered in a low, stern tone, a tiny, mischievous smile tugging at one of the corners of your mouth as you watched the scene unfold in front of you with great satisfaction. The girl’s eyes darted from Theo to you and back to him in utter disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re gonna kick me—” 

“I said… get the fuck out.” Theo repeated himself, and you could tell each emphasised, stinging word hit the girl like a slap to the face as she briefly stared at him before hastily putting on her clothes. She quickly left the room, her shoulder deliberately bumping into yours followed by aggressively slamming the door behind her. 

Theo then turned to you, his fierce expression instantly softening as he approached you and brushed his thumb over your heated cheek, causing your head to slyly turn away. It worked. He actually fell for it.

“Sorry about that, cara mia. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, she was just… so mean. I—” Theo let out a light chuckle, clearly amused by you. He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes momentarily leaving yours before landing back on your face, his gaze darting from your left eye to your right eye and down to your lips, causing you to squint. Is he doing the fucking triangle metho— 

“You can drop the act, bella.” He growled, his voice deeper and darker now. You tried to focus, to regain your composure, but you felt lightheaded, your breathing shaky and weak as he stood before you in merely his tight boxers, the outline of his semi-hard cock visible through the thin fabric and his body from years of Quidditch muscular and sculpted. 

When you realised that you were staring, you then quickly looked up at him with a faux puzzled expression, your head slightly tilted and your eyes widened in surprise. 

“What? You think I didn’t know?”

“I—, uh, I don’t know what—” you stammered, trying to lie your way out of this mess you were in, but it was no use. 

“Oh come on, baby. I’m a bit offended that you think I’m that dumb.” He taunted, and you felt your heart drop. He knew. 

“You think I don’t know about you threatening all these girls? Huh? You’re so adorable.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you’d heard him right. You had been convinced that if he ever found out what you’d been doing behind his back, it would be the end of your friendship. For good.

“Listen, alright? I just— I didn’t have a fucking choice! All these girls were all over you, trying to steal you from me… from me! They had no fucking respect for us and—“ You frantically spewed out words a thousand miles a minute, desperate to defend yourself, but you were abruptly cut off when he reached behind your thighs and lifted you up, drawing a surprised squeal from your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his bare upper body as he carried you and pressed your back firmly against the cold stone wall. 

You felt his steady heartbeat against your body from how close he was to you, and you were certain he could hear your own heart pounding out of your chest as his fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. This was the closest you two have ever been, and it left you breathless.

“Is this what you wanted all this time, tesoro? For me to fuck you like I fuck all these others girls?”

It was.

He drew his head nearer to yours until his soft lips were merely inches from your ear, his warm breath on your heated skin sending electric shivers down your spine.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you even better.”

Before you could even react, he walked you over to his bed and tossed you onto it, your body bouncing slightly from the impact. Without hesitation, you spread your legs, inviting him in, and he immediately climbed on top of you, his towering frame completely covering your entire body as his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his crotch pressed against your throbbing core.

Your panties were absolutely drenched as your breath hitched, his hips grinding in slow, deliberate movements against yours, and god, you were floating on cloud nine, desperately trying to savour every intoxicating second of this moment. His hand found your jaw, fingers gliding sensually up your soft skin before tilting your head to the side to expose your neck.

Instantly, he latched his lips onto your flesh, sloppily sucking dark love bites that made your heart race. You gasped at the sensation of him biting, nipping, and kissing your sensitive sweet spots, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your eyes gradually fluttered shut, arms wrapping tightly around his neck— but then, an uncontrollable sound of disgust escaped you as your nose pressed into his satin sheets, pulling you sharply out of the heated moment.

“What’s wrong, amore?”

“It just— it smells like… her.” Theo couldn’t help but laugh, slowly pulling back from your neck, clearly amused by your endearing yet possessive behaviour, his lips quirking into a playful grin.

He bit his lip as he intently stared at your annoyed expression, his face merely inches away from you, a combination of his aromatic cologne and smoky cigarettes flooding your senses. The scent was so distinctively him, causing you to take another subtle sniff.

“Let me distract you.”

His soft lips were suddenly pressed against yours, completely catching you off guard as your eyes momentarily widened, but you gradually melted into the heated kiss, your hand slowly trailing up his toned, bare back before landing on the back of his head, desperately pulling him closer. You felt blood rush to your core as your tongues danced against each other so effortlessly and so perfectly, your fingers running through his dishevelled, brown locks as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss further.

At the same time, his firm hand wandered down your body, fingers gliding over your silken skin until they reached your clothed core, his hand pressing against one of your inner thighs to spread your legs further apart. Teasingly, he toyed with the elastic waistband of your skirt for a moment, eliciting a frustrated, impatient groan from you before finally sliding it off, carelessly tossing it to the ground. 

His roaming hand then found its way back between your legs, gently rubbing your aching cunt over your soaked panties, a teasing, devilish smirk playing on his lips that you could feel through the passionate kiss before he slowly pulled back, leaving you breathless.

“This wet already? You know you could’ve just asked me to fuck you, tesoro. No need to threaten all those poor girls.”

“Yeah… right.” You scoffed, finding it hard to believe as your eyes briefly flickered away from his, a wave of scepticism washing over you.

With intense eyes locked onto yours, he slid your lace panties down, mindlessly tossing them to the floor as well before peeling away the rest of clothing, leaving you fully naked under him, surrounded by a chaotic pile of fabric on the wooden floor.

He paused for a moment to admire your breathtaking figure, eyes hungrily scanning every inch of your body, from your dripping cunt to your tits and hardened nipples. He bit his lip as he felt his painfully hard erection pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, forming a damp patch of precum.

“Oh, c’mon bella.”

Theo’s fingers hovered tantalisingly over your core, causing you to instinctively buck your hips upwards, desperately craving to feel them inside of you as he crawled on top of you again, piercing, lust-filled eyes staring right into your soul.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Oh, fuck. He slowly pushed his long fingers into your dripping cunt—two at a time—stretching you until he was knuckles deep inside of you, causing you to arch your back at the overwhelming sensation, your lips parting in ecstasy. The tips of his digits found your g-spot in no time, swiftly rubbing against the spongy surface as you desperately gripped his flexed arm, your sharp nails digging into the skin.

“Every time I was fucking one of those girls, I closed my eyes and imagined it being you, cara mia.”

His words rushed straight to your core, causing you to clench tightly around his fast fingers as every muscle in your body tightened in response. He couldn’t help but smirk at the instant reaction, only egging him on to increase his pace. His fingers curled up so perfectly, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with slick, wet sounds along with your breathy moans echoing through his dorm room.

You were so close to the edge, the intense pleasure building as his fingers quickened their pace, until he suddenly came to a halt and pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Theo! What the f—”

“Ah, ah, ah; don’t whine. I need to feel you cum around my cock, alright?” He growled, his voice dripping with raw lust at just the thought of you wrapped around his cock. In one swift motion, he quickly removed his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free against his stomach, the tip slick with glistening precum as you nearly drooled at the sight. 

He pressed his strong palms against your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself in front of you, but you unexpectedly stopped him, making him raise a curious brow.

“Wait… just— uhm… let me suck your dick first… please?” you begged, your voice laced with desperation as his surprised eyes shifted into dark, lustful ones. He immediately beckoned for you to move in front of him as he leaned back on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, his hands casually tucked behind his head.

“Well… you don’t have to ask me twice, pretty girl.”

Finally. It felt like a dream come true. You positioned yourself on your knees in front of him, your eyes intensely fixated on his huge, pulsating cock, practically begging for you to suck it. You slowly drew nearer, teasing him as he felt your warm breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, his hips impatiently bucking up in response. 

With one hand wrapped firmly around the base and the other resting on his flexed thigh, you began to give it gentle, playful kitten licks, your tongue flicking delicately against the tip, earning a low hiss from Theo as you tasted the salty precum. It didn’t take long before you took him fully into your mouth, slowly moving down until your lips made contact with his balls and the tip touched the back of your throat. One of his hands unconsciously travelled to your head, fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. Just like that.” Theo praised, a deep sense of pride swelling in your chest as you lightly gagged on his length before pulling your head back up. Your tongue swirled over the most sensitive parts of the tip as you retracted, a combination of drool and precum coating your swollen lips, trickling down onto his balls.

“Give me your phone, please.” you suddenly asked, catching Theo off guard. He tilted his head in confusion, yet without further questions, reached for it from his nightstand and handed it over to you with a hint of curiosity.

“My password is—”

“Yeah, I know.”

You mindlessly unlocked his phone, his lips parting to speak, but before he could utter a word, you had already wrapped your lips around his pulsating cock once more, causing him to throw his head back in pleasurable surprise. As you swiped across the screen, you finally found the camera app and held the phone up high in the air, angling it towards your face while simultaneously bobbing your head up and down, eyes staring directly into the camera lens.

“Oh, shit. You’re— you’re fuckin’ crazy, cazzo.” he let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his voice thick with both admiration and raw desire, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes and a cheeky, lopsided smirk dancing on his lips.

Snap. Snap. Snap. You took several pictures from different angles, your mouth stuffed full with Theo’s cock as he now held your hair back in a ponytail, guiding your head up and down his erection, making you gag each time it hit the back of your throat. You quickly locked his phone again and tossed it aside, your focus snapping back to his cock as you immediately increased your pace, causing Theo to grip your hair tighter, desperately trying to stop you.

“Ah, ah, careful… you’re gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.” he warned, insinuating that he wasn’t ready to finish just yet. You slowly pulled away, giving him a teasing smile, your lips slick and swollen.

“C’mere.” he growled, taking your hand and dragging you effortlessly on top of him, his wandering hands trailing possessively over your back to your ass, before he flipped you over in one swift motion with Theo ending on top of you, a predatory grin plastered across his face.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he taunted, a lustful gleam sparkling in his eyes with his aching erection pressed against your thigh. His warm breath ghosted over your skin as his lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“Listen… I will fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Until you’re screaming my name. Until you can’t fuckin’ walk anymore.” His words gave you chills all over your body as your arousal began to trickle down your thighs, leaving a messy trail over your legs.

“‘Cause that’s what you wanted all this time, isn’t it?” Theo moved back and pumped his cock a few times, his impatience evident in every motion. He positioned himself between your legs and finally pushed into you, his arms caging you under him as he hissed at the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. He gave you a moment to let you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried balls deep inside of you. 

Him, inside you, felt so intoxicating, better than anything you could’ve ever imagined, both of you consumed by tremendous levels of passion and lust. He started slow, dragging out each deep thrust, making you feel every inch of him as he stretched you completely, massaging your inner walls so perfectly.

“Baby… you look so beautiful like this… So fucking sexy.” he managed to mutter in between ragged breaths, making you moan loudly as he gradually increased his pace, relentlessly pounding into you now. 

“My. Favourite. Girl.” he praised, each word punctuated by deep thrusts as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss, moaning into your mouth. And you— god, you felt better than he ever imagined, so tight and warm, perfectly wrapped around him, as if you were made for him. 

“So fucking big, oh my god” you moaned breathlessly, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him closer until your sweaty bodies were pressed together. 

You hooked your legs around his muscular torso, giving him an angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot over and over. Theo clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white with his head buried in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to hold back, to not cum too soon— but fuck, you felt incredible, squeezing him so perfectly. 

“Yes, yes, yes, right there!” you cried out, your voice shaking from pleasure and your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss.

“Taking my cock so well, amore, fuck” he growled, his voice deep and strained and his pace brutal, causing you to cling onto his broad shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin. His lips moved frantically across your neck, planting wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin as his hand crept to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit all while still maintaining his brutal pace.

“Theo, oh- oh my fucking god, I’m almost—” 

“Let go for me, baby.” he whispered huskily into your ear as his fingers worked faster. It didn’t take long before he pushed you over the edge, causing you to arch your back and moan his name over and over again, your nails dragging down the length of his back, leaving red trails all over his skin.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.” He groaned through gritted teeth as his thrusts grew sloppier, less controlled. He breathlessly moaned your name so beautifully as his orgasm hit him, emptying himself inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. He slowed his movements, gently riding out both of your highs, before carefully pulling out and collapsing next to you, his arm wrapping around you, both your breathing ragged and uneven.

You sluggishly grabbed his phone from the nightstand again, unlocking it with determined fingers, your chest heaving up and down as you scrolled through his messages. The screen lit up with dozens of texts— girls asking to hook up, sending him nudes. The anger you’d felt before instantly surged back, tightening in your chest. 

“What are you doing?” Theo questioned, his eyes narrowing as he followed the movements of your fingers across the bright screen, a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Making sure none of these girls ever talk to you again.” You smirked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you scrolled through each chat, sending the pictures from earlier to every single girl in his phone. A self-satisfied, smug grin stretched across your lips as you watched the messages go through, one by one. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” Theo chuckled, shaking his head in both disbelief and amusement, yet clearly turned on by your boldness. 

“That's why you’re my favourite.”

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

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[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[teeskzagain]

"i'm popular with older sisters."

• synopsis: in which the lines have started to blur between your long-term neighbor, sim jake.

• warnings: heavily suggestive content (as in this is one step away from being just straight smut basically), jake calls reader "noona", dry humping, hickies/neck markings, slight dirty talk, desperate!jake

• wc: 1.1k

• a/n: im thinking of expanding this idea into a one shot, but please let me know if i should.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who one day barges into your house, ready to hang out with you and your family- he'd been bored with nothing else to do.

» neighbor!jake, who roams around the living room and kitchen in search of someone, before finally working his way upstairs (there was no one around) and sees that your door is open. immediately, he beelines straight down the hall.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who wastes no time storming into your room, excited that you're home, only to get told off harshly by you. you're on the phone with a friend, back resting against the bed frame as you wave at him to go away.

» after scolding him and returning back to your conversation, imagine younger!neighbor jake's reaction. his face would contort unpleasantly, nose turning upright at your dismissive attitude. he'd stand at your door frame, mumbling out, "noona." over and over again as a means of regaining your attention. though, you would just ignore him.

» imagine neighbor!jake, who doesn't appreciate how you're acting towards him, stalking up to the end of the bed. his whines of, "get off the phone." combined with, "just talk to me instead." begin to irritate you, with you purposely keeping your gaze away from him.

» younger!neighbor jake didn't like being ignored. which is why seconds later, he's crawling onto your bed and swiftly engulfing you with his body. after the many years spent together, he already knows what gets you the most distracted.

» imagine neighbor!jake who, as your busy yelling and fighting him off of you, begins to bury his head deep into your neck. he produces little groans into the crevice, saying such verbage as, "noona, i miss you so much. please, just missed you so much."

» imagine neighbor!jake smothering you with his weight when he starts to press his full lips against your skin, trying anything to get your attention. you fumble your phone in an attempt to hang up the call because absolutely no way would you let anyone know about this. no. no one could ever know. “we are not doing this right now.” you hiss softly once you know your friend is unable to hear the scuffle going on.

» "why not?" neighbor!jake rumbles into your skin, "don't you love it when i-" without any hesitation, he starts to nip at your skin and instinctively a sharp inhale has you levitating. his arms wrap tighter around your torso as you now begin to feel trapped underneath him. wrestling you deeper into the mattress, he can't help the light rut his pelvis does into your side. the need to just have you becoming ever so consuming.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who in actuality, came over to your house because he's been missing you a little more than a neighbor truly should. while, yes, he was missing the comforting presence you would always bring to him. your caring tendencies in an almost sisterly way.

» imagine neighbor!jake, who's true reason for visiting, was because he began to miss you. he started to miss your thick, velvet walls that always feel so fucking good around his strained cock. the tiny whimpers you would produce when you were overstimulated. how much cum he would squirt out because only you could ever get him so aroused. he's longing for it, and now he needs this asap.

» "jake...." murmuring, you feel your head roll to the side as neighbor!jake uses a hand to push it out the way, needing an even greater space to kiss and mark you up, "we need...to stop. we need to stop this now. my parents are gonna be home-ah...soon."

» younger!neighbor jake is too much in a daze to even register your concern. fuck, how could he pay attention? despite your protests, you're already whining softly into the air, the little huffs of your chest has both you and him heaving up and down. this is how it always starts. it starts with your refusal to engage, your mature attitude that battles his easy going one, before eventually you begin to falter.

» imagine neighbor!jake slowly pulling his head back to gage you from above, and then recieving all the confirmation he needs. his noona. so fucking pretty, the way you're eyes are shut tightly because you always get aroused so fast. you want this, no matter how many times you try to deny. the evidence is all of your face. god, he feels his cock buzzing because of that pretty face. you just make him so damn horny. after admiring you, he lowers himself once more and goes back to producing fat, lazy hickies all over your neck and grinding his tip against you.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who's cock is pulsing so hard that he's seconds away from cumming on himself. raking his dick into your body, the sloppy kisses, all of it acts as the perfect foreplay for him. but what really does it for him, is when your legs involuntarily widens and closes to cage him in, solidifying the unspoken agreement between you two.

» a tiny smile starts to spread across neighbor!jake's face as he switches between splotching you red and huskily speaking, "you ready now?" he lands a larger kiss on the middle of your throat, "i'll be quick, noona." his throaty voice vibrates just perfectly into your ears. "just how you like it."

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who's moments from stuffing you raw, muttering sweet nothings into your skin. he grabs a handful of your pants fabric and quietly pulls it down to reveal your commando state. when he brushes his fingertips against your bare clit, you have to bite your lip to stop a shuddered moan from leaving. his hazy eyes look up to your contorted face, "kinda wish you wouldn't hold back. i wanna hear your pretty moans. i wanna hear your soft pleads. let me hear you-"

» as you go to let out a throaty mewl, imagine younger!neighbor jake's dismay when he suddenly hears the front door opening then closing and indistinct talking emerges from downstairs. with an, ‘oh fuck’, the two of you jump and scramble apart, the sounds of footsteps echoing around. someone starts to make their way upstairs as you both go from a state of startling shock to sheer panic.

"Y/N! We're home!"

*

*

*

*

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with your car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, ���Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[01zfan]

sweetheart

nerd!anton x nerd!reader | 5.1k words

a request i got and it kinda made me go a little insane.

contains: anton pretends to be an insecure little nerd to plot on the reader, fingering, reader is implied to be a virgin

Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment. 

Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer. 

After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.

Just in case I need help with another assignment.

Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.

Anton is a sweetheart.

But he also has a problem.

He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day. 

Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework. 

They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.

He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap. 

His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.

“Have you ever been with a girl before?” 

They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.

“I have.” 

He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him. 

(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)

Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.

The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.

He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.

Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.

“You’re big.”

The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.

“Am I really?” 

Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.

He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause. 

No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything. 

He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him. 

“I thought you were an asshole at first.”

You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer. 

Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.

But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.

“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.

You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.

“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.

You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities. 

The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.

But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat. 

He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.

He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Do you work out?” You asked.

Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.

“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.

You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.

“You smell nice.” You said.

The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.

“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible. 

This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure. 

Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips. 

“I’ve never done anything before.”

Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.

“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”

He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it. 

“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”

“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.

“You smell really good.” You repeat.

You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.

“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.

He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist. 

The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.

“You look good, Anton.” You agree.

“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.

Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.

“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.

You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.

“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.

You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.

Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you. 

Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.

He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.

“Is this okay?” Anton asks.

He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.

“Want me to touch you?” He asks.

He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.

“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.

Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.

With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.

“Anton.”

You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.

“What’s up?” He asks.

His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.

You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.

“You want me to finger you?” He asks.

You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.

He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.

You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.

Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.

“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.

You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.

“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.

Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.

He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.

Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.

“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He says.

He’s a sweetheart, after all.

[goldenroutledge]

i must be dreaming

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

prompt: ❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

a/n: for my wonderful moot @yearneir, thank you so much for the request! i had so much fun writing this <3

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“Knock, knock!” Two knocks sound through the door of Lando’s hotel room, followed by the familiar cheerfulness of Alma, the hotel’s concierge. “Delivery for Mr. Norris!”

Lando’s muscles ache with a soreness that weighs him down into the softness of the duvet, having sprawled out face first onto the bed the second he got back from another long day of testing. The winter months are always the shortest, often flying by more quickly than the season does.

His mind is tired as well, struggling a bit extra to get back into the swing of things after months away from being in the car. He doesn’t recall ordering any room service but if he did, he’s more out of it than he previously thought.

With a sigh of reluctance, he drags his feet towards the door of the stylish hotel suite. His vision is blurry as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and instinctively checks the time on his phone that reads 8:03pm. Definitely way too early to sleep for the night, but a power nap has never hurt him before.

Sure enough, Alma is waiting on the other side of the door with a bright smile and a silver platter in hand. “Good evening, Mr. Norris. I was instructed to bring this to your room along with this letter.”

He takes a deep breath, as if the surprise delivery will make more sense when he gets some more oxygen flowing to his brain. “Oh, thank you. Who’s it from?”

Alma smiles coyly but won’t reveal too much. “I can’t say, but your answer is in the envelope. Can I get you anything else while I’m here, sir?”

“Just Lando is fine.” He politely corrects. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

“Have a nice evening.” Alma disappears down the hallway, leaving Lando to his letter and mysterious silver platter. He’s seen enough movies to know that there’s usually someone’s head under these. His first name is written neatly on the envelope and what catches his eye is the red heart stamped into the wax seal.

He remembers the date, February 14th, and blushes at the thought of you. The both of you had been corresponding on the phone like usual, of course confirming that you had received the bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a few pieces from your favorite designer that Lando made sure to have delivered to your home, with a promise that he’d be able to properly wine and dine you in a week’s time. He carefully lifts the seal, a childlike grin spreading across his face at the sight of your neat handwriting.

-

My dearest Lando,

It pains me to be apart from you, but the distance will let our hearts grow fonder. I hope you enjoy the present I’ve prepared for you.

Yours truly,

Y/n.

P.S. Call me when you get this. XOXO.

-

His hopes are high for whatever’s underneath the silver dome, perhaps some comfort food like a classic Roast dinner that reminds him of home, just like his Mum makes.

Lando lifts the silver to find not a warm meal, but cold and slimy rolls of sushi making the shape of a heart, dipping cups of wasabi and soy sauce resting in the center.

“What the hell?!” He yelps, visibly startled by the sight. “She knows I hate this stuff.” He’s scrolling to the favorite contacts in his call log, instinctively clicking your name.

When you answer on the second ring smiling like the Cheshire Cat, Lando knows he’s been set up.

“Is this your way of breaking up with me? Sending a plate of fish to my hotel room on Valentine’s Day?” Your laugh pierces through the phone, and he’s still dumbfounded as to how you managed to pull a prank on him all the way from Monaco. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to know that I’m soy into you. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

“Aw, very clever. I hope you know that I’m gonna get you back for this. What fruit was it that you are mildly allergic to again? Starfruit, was it? I’m sending 50 starfruit arrangements to our house as we speak.”

“With all the risks you take at work, I’m amazed that sushi of all things has become your greatest fear. How is that?”

Lando scoffs, “I am not scared of sushi.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Sorry love, the proof is out there. But I wanted you to know that I love you anyway.”

“I love you too.” He grumbles, but there’s no bite behind his words. Lando finally takes a better look at you, but doesn’t recognize the wall in the background. He doesn’t recognize the wall behind you from your house, that is. He looks around his suite, now puzzled as to how your background matches the exact color of the hotel walls. Interesting. “Wait, where are you? You’re not at home are you?”

“I’m in a place that people temporarily call home?” You offer with a mysterious edge to your words and he subtly catches on. You can see the gears turning for him, the realization visible on his face when he moves toward the door once again.

“Wait a second… Are you HERE?! At my hotel?” His incredulous tone translates from the speaker on your phone to reverberating in your ears, behind his hotel room door that you’re standing in front of.

The door swings open and you’re reunited with those sparkling cerulean eyes you know so well. He takes a pause, glancing back and forth between his screen and you, now within arms reach. Wasting time would be a foolish thing to do. Without a care he drops his phone in exchange for cradling your face in his hands before smashing his lips onto yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his frame, relishing in how warm he feels against you.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He breathes out, as if his life depends on saying it.

“Surprise! I missed you too, clearly. I’ve been wanting to try my sushi prank for a while now and this gave me the perfect opportunity. Had to get you riled up with something you hate so you’d be extra happy to see me.”

“Not necessary.” Lando murmurs against you, peppering kisses to your lips. “I don’t need anything extra, you know that. It did serve as a nice surprise, though. Definitely better than the sushi.”

You giggle as he shudders at the thought. “Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” Lando sighs, unable to resist your pleading eyes and the warm notes of amber in your perfume that captivate him, “but I hope you know that if anyone else did this to me, and I mean anyone else on this planet, I would not speak a word to them for the rest of my life. However, for you, I can make an exception. You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

You kiss him sweetly, holding hints of satisfaction behind your smile at how well your plan has been executed. “Don’t worry, I plan to make it up to you. It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

“Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, how did I get so lucky?”

You pinch his cheek teasingly. “You do look exhausted still, are you sure you’re not dreaming of me?”

Lando catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the skin, content with knowing that he’ll dream of you tonight and wake up beside you tomorrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

💌: thanks for reading, comments & reblogs are always appreciated!

psst… my requests are open :) be my valentine blurb event 💌

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

[sirxlla]

hey so how do you think the batboys would deal with them sat in their chair reading a book or doing work, and their s/o just casually sits in their lap, curls themselves a bit into the boys so they’re not in the way, and reads their own book. And s/o’s just like “Don’t mind me. Just keep doing what you’re doing”?

Casually Sitting In Their Lap (Batboys)

Dick: Dick is one of those people that has to make sure everyone is well, and it tends to stress him out frequently; currently, it was Damian; Damian had had a rough time trying to acclimate to normal life outside the League. Dick is naturally a nurturing person, so he does his best to help Damian the best he can.

Dick texted Damian as fast and as quickly as his fingers would move. You noticed the tension in his shoulders and figured a thing would be good, but considering he was sitting, that's a bit harder, so,, therefore you climbed onto his lap and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly just to remind him he's not alone. Dick put down the phone and wrapped his arms around your waist as he breathed in the smell of your hair.

"You know I love you, Honey? I love how much you do for me and everyone else. You're amazing." You asked as you ran your hands through his hair.

"You keep sayin' that I might be inclined to believe it." He quips trying to sound happier and less stressed than he is as he rubs your lower back.

"Good, I might as well say it about a million-gazillion times more." Smiling as you gently massage his neck to try to help ease his tension. You rest your head on his shoulder and allow him to go back to texting Damian. Right now having you close was a lifeline or a godsend.

Jason: Jason, for once, was relaxing but being across the room from him felt too far, and his gaming chair only seated one. You slyly and very carefully, as not to interrupt his online Call Of Duty game with Gar and Connor, slipped into his lap. He lifted his controller and looked around you before you slotted your body between his arms.

"Yeah, go right! He's on me!" He yelled through his headset; his mind hadn't even registered that you were in his lap.

"Yes! That's right! Get fucked assholes!" He yelled at the other players with pride in his voice before he looked down.

"Oh Hey, Babygirl." He smiled and kissed your forehead before going back to his game, it didn't phase him at all. He just kept playing his gun and would give you occasional kisses on the forehead and squeezes. His heart warmed at the feeling of you climbing up in his lap for no good reason, it felt nice that someone just wanted to be close to him just for the sake of being close. It felt nice to be wanted rather than just needed.

Bruce: Bruce, at this point, he is beyond used to you sitting in his lap whenever he is at the Batcomputer. You realized very quickly that begging him to come to bed was never gonna happen so you would climb into his lap with a blanket and snuggle yourself into him. He won't say anything, but it means the world to him that you wanna be around him.

"Evening, Darling." He'd say as he moved his arms to make space for you in his lap, but his eyes never leave the screen; they're red from the screen. You wrap the blanket around each other and press your warm body into his, and you both relax. He rubs your back as he takes in information. You don't know it, but just this small action in itself makes his job so much easier.

You just sit in his lap and it allows you both to spend time with eaxhother considering how little the both of you get time together.

You read your book or play on your iPad whilst you sit in his lap making sure to not be in the way. His hands gently and subconciously rubb your back or twirl your hair as he look up the information required for his next mission. Bruce might be busy due to how calculated and busy Batman is but times like these just made it all worth it. Your safety, security and happiness is all that could matter to him.

Tim: Tim was in the middle of researching new materials for his suit, he needed something more breatheable and didnt leave him drenched in sweat. Sometimes when he reads he gets tunnel vision so you'd often find yourself having to throw a pillow or stuffie at him or at times you'd have to literally wave your hand infront of his face to get his attention.

This time you decided now was a good time to get his attention in a more obvious way, you slipped into his lap and he immediately froze as his face turned beet red.

"I've been calling your name for like fifteen minutes, Baby."

"I- I- I- don't know what to do with my hands." He stammered out as his hands hovered over your body before he relaxed and put them on your hips.

"You know I don't have cooties right? I lost em when I got with you." You tease and poke fun at him a tiny bit.

"Cooties? Does that go along with the Cheese Touch from middle school?"

"Something like that I suppose." You smiled as you hugged him and he hugged you back.

"Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my iwn little world."

"You're my world." You said in a very truthful tone.

"Cheese." He quipped back and gave you a squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

Damian: You slipped into Damian's lap while he was doing something or the other and he immediately froze.

"Beloved, not right now." He said as he gently moved you off his lap before he promptly noticed your shoulders fall.

"I said not right now, that doesnt mean I don't want you up here. If I'm entirely honest I'd rather you be up here than me having to read these long ass annoying documents. You know what? This can wait for now, I've got a headache and I need a break. Come here."

You swiftly moved back into his lap like a cat that heard a treat container. Damian's arms wrapped around you as he breathed you in.

"You might be the only good thing in my life." He mumbled into your neck and squeezed you tigher which prompted you to squeeze back.

"I love you, Dami." You said to him to reassure him you'd be here as long as he'd have you. Damian isn't obvious about it but it's in the small things most people would thing are trivial that you find your answers most. Is he angry? Is he sad? Is he happy? Its all so glaringly obvious one you figure him out. Like a puzzle you cant unsolve.

Damian needs you even if he wont admit it upfront, you're the only thing right now thats keeping him from drowning in the vast ocean he's in. He's used to swimming on his own but now that he found a life raft, he'd never go back to before.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if you'd like

[enhani-ki]

HII I LOVE UR FICS!! I had a suggestion.. what about jealous riki whos clingy and whiny all day so reader kinda ignores it thinking his jealousy is childish so he gets mad and takes out his frustration by fucking her? Just a thought! (keep up w the good work <33 I really love reading your fics)

jealousy, jealousy - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

you were in bed alone and bored out of your mind.

sighing, you got up and wandered into the living room where you saw your angry boyfriend lying on the couch, silently scrolling through his phone.

it's your damn coworker's fault.

your new coworker had been texting you nonstop for help, ni-ki noticed and when he came to pick you up earlier today, he saw the guy touching your leg to steady you while you were on the ladder, reaching for something and on top of that, he was being clingy to you and you're pushing him off all week. he let it go but he saw you glued to your phone again so he got fed up and finally asked, "who's that?"

"hm? oh, my coworker again. i left early with you so he's just asking where to put things."

ni-ki stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing slow kisses to your shoulder. "can't he ask someone else?"

"well, he's new and i think he's more comfortable asking me. he might be shy, you know?"

"shy, my ass." ni-ki pulled back slightly, clearly annoyed. "why is he only comfortable with you?"

you pulled away completely from his hug. "i don't know, you're asking a weird question."

"no, i'm not." he stepped closer. "does he know you have a boyfriend?"

you furrowed your brows. "no?"

"why?"

"because he didn't ask and why would i randomly say, 'oh, i have a boyfriend'?"

ni-ki chuckled dryly. "tell him he can quit his job if he has to bother you like this."

"what the hell is your problem?"

now, he wouldn't talk to you.

you sat down on the couch beside him, "babe… i'm sorry…" you finally apologized. your boyfriend trusts you, you know he's never pushy and would never ask something weird unless it's genuinely bothering him.

he ignored your apology. just like how you ignored him.

you lay beside him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

you started kissing his shoulder, his arm, his neck... just small, soft kisses to try to get something out of him.

then your fingers trailed down his arm, over his stomach where he was warm and you can feel his firm muscles under your touch.

you tangled your leg with his. "ni-ki..." you called out but still, nothing.

fine.

you swung your leg over his lap, pressing your chest against his as you kissed down his neck, sucking it lightly but ni-ki still held onto his phone like he wasn't affected.

your body started craving his warmth, not sure if it is because he was refusing to touch you.

"talk to me..." you whined softly, pressing your thigh between his, rubbing against him just enough to make your intentions clear.

and when he didn't respond, you couldn't wait anymore, you removed your shirt slowly while looking at him before leaning in again to give kisses to his body.

and ni-ki bit his lip, he was watching you in his peripheral vision, fighting the urge to shove his face down to your tits.

he wanted to, but... maybe later? because you have to work for his forgiveness.

your mouth trailed down his neck again, along his collarbone, down to his chest. his abs tensed as you kissed a path lower, following the v of his hips.

and even though he's acting like a bitch, his body was betraying him because you could literally see his dick straining against his pants now, so you hurried and unfastened it to free him.

he groaned silently when he felt your cold hand wrapped around his cock. you gave it a slow pump but you took him into your mouth seconds later, moaning at the taste of him.

ni-ki's phone fell from his hands, "oh f-fuck..." he said, gripping in the cushion.

it's like you were making out with his cock.

you were bobbing your head, sucking and deepthroating him while your free hand was cupping his balls, where he was sensitive. you rolled them in your palm, his dick throbbed inside your mouth.

his legs were starting to move, you knew he was about to cum so you stopped. "wha-" ni-ki was about to complain but stopped himself.

his eyes followed your every move, you tossed your panties on his face harshly before laying down beside him. you pressed your back against his chest, lining his cock in your entrance.

and then you started rolling your hips slowly, his long thick cock was stretching your wet walls so you had to pause, "oh god..." you breathed out, bracing your hands on his thighs for support.

ni-ki hissed, trying to hold still and let you take the lead, his hands gripped your hips but it's only held you steady. still not helping to work you open even though it was so hard not to thrust up into your tight hole.

and you kept slipping off his length, you're so used to him pounding and stretching you open so now you're having trouble using him for yourself.

tears started to form in your eyes and a sob got caught in your throat as you rode him desperately to chase your release.

"please," you gasped out, clenching around him because you're already close. "i...i need you to touch me, baby." you moved faster, ni-ki's grip on your hips tightened, his thick shaft was pulsing inside but he still hadn't touched you how you needed him to.

then you pulled away and stood up, ready to walk away as angry tears streamed down your face because you can't cum.

ni-ki stood up too, grabbing your wrist right away and pulled you right back "don't be mad..." he chuckled and kissed you. "i'm supposed to be the angry one, right?"

you rolled your eyes and he knelt down, you were so wet that he had to lick some of it first.

it's okay, he's thirsty anyways.

ni-ki turned you around on your shaky legs, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with one hand while the other slid up to your throat, his fingers were pressing just the right spots at the sides to slow the blood flow, making your head feel light.

and the new position had him hitting deeper. you can feel the tip of his dick hit your cervix, making your mind blank than it already is. usually, ni-ki would talk to you while having sex but right now, he can't think of anything aside from being angry and jealous, even ignoring the fact that you already had multiple orgasms.

his grunts and groans filled the room, along with the obscene sound of skins slapping against the other, and even though his legs were starting to ache, he couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied... though he had to slow down now when he felt your pussy tightens and getting even more wet... oh, you cummed again... your body started losing balance.

"shit-" he cursed, releasing your wrists and held your body gently. "sorry..." he added, quickly pressing a kiss to you cheek then gently helped you lay on the bed.

he put your trembling legs over his shoulders. you both watched him put his cock back inside, to slide in and out.

it hurts so good, you pulled his hair. ni-ki's cock felt even bigger than usual, giving you more pleasure and pain. "fuck, baby...so tight..."

you could feel your orgasm building building again, tight in your core. "cum..." he demanded hotly against your ear. "soak my dick more."

ni-ki buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips were already stuttering. and he looked so good, biting his lips and shit.

after you came, ni-ki wiped your tears before bringing his fingers to your lips. "open your mouth, baby."

ni-ki pulled out abruptly and stood to press his cock to your mouth. cursing and moaning your name as he pumped his hot load onto your tongue before collapsing next to you, he could barely feel his legs.

then he let out a breathless chuckle after he saw you. "you look like a mess."

"whose fault is that?"

he smiled and hugged you. "yours..." ni-ki said, then he sat up. "be right back."

you whined, tightening your grip around his arm. "nooo, stay."

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently prying your arms off him. "i gotta clean you up, baby. we're both messy."

hours later, you woke up and stretched your limbs, only to feel a familiar weight beside you. ni-ki was still half-asleep, his arm were resting over your waist, your legs were tangled together with his.

"you okay?" he asked, his voice deep and a little raspy.

"mhmm..."

ni-ki kissed your shoulder. "you sure?"

you grinned sleepily, peeking up at him. "yes, you stopped ignoring me."

"because i was mad earlier." he pinched your side lightly, making you squirm. "and you just kept pushing it, it's so annoying."

you giggled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "then stop being mad at me over stupid things."

"stupid things? that dude was all over you." he huffed, "touching your leg, texting you all day… if i didn't come pick you up, who knows what you would've let him do."

you rolled your eyes. "what? first of all, i won't let him do anything. second, he was just helping to steady me."

"next time, let the ladder steady you.." he grumbled. "did you tell him?"

you groaned, turning to bury your face into your pillow. "ni-ki, seriously?"

you don't know why he'd ask that, he's literally sleeping with you all this time and you don't even know where you put that stupid phone.

he placed his head on his hand, propping himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with messy hair and sleepy eyes. "did you tell him you have a boyfriend?"

"good morning to me."

ni-ki ignored your sarcasm, nudging your cheek with his nose. "did you?"

you ignored him, hoping he'll let it go if you stayed quiet.

ni-ki groaned, rolling onto his side and throwing a leg over yours to trap you in place. "you didn't, did you?"

"ni-ki..."

"i don't get what's so hard about it."

"it's not hard..." you muttered, already feeling exhausted. "go find my phone."

"it's not there?"

you shook your head.

"okay, do it later."

you facepalmed.

then he dramatically collapsed onto you. "babe, what if he thinks he has a chance? what if he texts you again today? what if he-"

you covered his mouth.

his lips curved into a grin against your palm before he licked it.

you yelped, pulling your hand back as he laughed.

he grinned again before leaning in, his voice turned into a whiny murmur. "just tell him later, okay?"

at this point, you knew he wasn't jealous anymore. he's just doing this to annoy you.

"yes, i'll tell him today."

"promise?"

"yes, promise!"

he squinted his eyes at you. "say it nicely."

you rolled your eyes but just played along, cupping his face. "ni-ki, my wonderful, stubborn boyfriend, i promise i will inform that guy today that i have a boyfriend."

he hummed, satisfied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"can i go back to sleep now?"

ni-ki pretended to think for a moment before shaking his head. "nope. i'm awake, so you have to be, too."

a/n: hi, this is very late so forgive me T T but i hope you'll like it

マスターリストm.list

[heavyhitterheaux]

To Date or Not to Date

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Ja'Marr answers the famous TikTok question of "which teammate would he not let date his sister."

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The Bengals had just wrapped up another practice on what turned out to be a windy day in Cincinnati. Everyone was making their way back into the locker room when Joe looked up and noticed that their social media team kept stopping players for what he assumed to be another TikTok that they were filming.

As Joe was approaching them along with Jake, he caught the tail end of the question that was currently being asked to Andrei and Tee.

“Which one of your teammates would you not let date your sister?”

“Love all these guys on my team, but for Geno… it's a no!” Andrei said before walking off and all of the attention was now on Tee.

“Well, Tee, what are your thoughts? Who would you not let date your sister?” Kelsey from the social media team asked him.

“Ja’Marr because he's a hoe! Oh shit, can I say that on camera?” He asked as his eyes went wide. But what he didn't notice was Ja’Marr right behind him.

“Excuse me, Tee! I heard that with your big ass mouth! They're going to have to edit this out.” Ja’Marr told him before Kelsey held the mic up to him.

“Okay, Ja'Marr you're up. Who would you not let date your sister?”

Ja’Marr looked dead into the camera and without hesitation said the name that no one expected.

“Joe.”

“Um, Ja'Marr….” Kelsey started to say when she saw Joe approaching him from behind and said nothing as Joe caught him in a headlock.

“AH! Get off me! I was just playing! Damn!”

“Well jokes on your dumbass because we're married.” Joe told him as Ja'Marr was trying to get out of his grip.

“Ouch! Okay! Okay! I take it back! Unhand me! I'm your brother-in-law!”

“And that's why you shouldn't have said it!”

“Get him again for me, Joe!” Tee yelled as Joe laughed before finally loosening his grip.

Once he finally did, the two of them continued towards the locker room.

“Joe, I'm telling your wife that you attacked me!”

“And you know good and damn well the first question out of her mouth is going to be if you deserved it or not. So therefore, I highly doubt that she would care.”

“You right. She mean as hell and would probably laugh at me. Look, I even asked you THIRTY minutes before the wedding if you were sure about marrying her. I mean better for me since she now had someone else to bother so she wouldn't be constantly blowing up my phone.”

“She still does?”

“You're right, but don't tell her I said that. Wait, am I still invited to dinner tonight?”

“Let’s call her and ask.”

“Wait, what? Joe, don't you dare tell on me.”

“Too late. Hello? Hi, baby doll. Let me tell you what your brother did at practice today.” Joe said into the phone with you on the other end.

“Oh no. Is he still in one piece?”

“I left him in one piece, but he came close to losing a body part.”

“Don't listen to him, Pebbles! I'm innocent!” Ja’Marr said as he tried to take the phone, but Joe swatted his hand away.

“He has never been innocent, so go on.” You told him as you were currently trying to pick out an outfit to go to lunch with your mom.

“So, you know our social media team is always out here and Kelsey asked him ‘which player would you not let date your sister?’ And your twin who was found in a dumpster behind Popeyes…”

“Joe, what the hell!?” Yelled Ja’Marr as he threw his hands up in disbelief.

“Stop interrupting. He decided to say my name and earned himself being put in a headlock and asked me after the fact if he is still invited over for dinner.”

You couldn't help but to immediately laugh before responding back to your husband.

“I'll go to PetsMart on my way home from lunch and get a doggy bowl to put outside for him.”

[sinning-23]

Hot Tatted Uncles (Uncle!SukunaAu X Teacher!Reader)

I’ve fallen victim to the unkuna/uncle sukuna au so HAVE THIS

PART 2 UP NOW!!! <------- Click the link here!

_____________________________________________________

“My uncle be fighting people.” Yuji hums, your gaze immediately shooting to the toddler.

“O-Oh really?” You gulp, knowing kids say the wildest things but after you’re first encounter with the pink-hair boy's uncle, you would put it past him.

“Yeah, he. He told me uh-um-.” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, to which you sigh and directed him to the sink as he continues his story

“Uh- he told me that he beat up this guy and he- uh he won and that the guy lost.”

You fight the urge to laugh, his sentence seeming so long and incomplete. Typical toddler.

“Well we don’t fight our friends right Yuji? You be good and keep your hands to yourself?” You encourage, ruffling the boy's hair as he smiles, one of the fronts missing.

“Yeah! We use nice hands.” Yuji repeats, leaving you with your thoughts as he grabs ahold of a car to play with.

Why would you tell a 2-year-old you beat someone up?! You sigh, scrolling through your contacts, making a note to speak with his father, even though the boy hadn't done anything, it's still concerning that he might feel as if that’s okay since his uncle does it.

It’s quiet for a moment, your other three students Nobara, Megumi, and Mahito playing together….and then it happens.

WHAM!

A still silence falls over the room and soon a roar of cries as Mahito holds the top of his head. In all honestly the child was a problem so whatever he did to get smacked over the head with a wooden block was probably warranted. But the bigger problem was that you biggest fear had come to fruition. Yuji, had hit and essentially started to fight with another child, as Mahito had hit him back. You’d definitely need to speak to his father now.

The rest of the children had gone home now, Yuji being your last child as you closed your classroom down. Your class usually ended around 6:00 and it was pushing 6:15 now. Just as you were about to make your courtesy call, the door opened with the jingle of keys and a throaty chuckle.

"Look at you, giving your teacher a hard time?" The tatted male asks, scooping up a giggling Yuji with a toothy grin. You, however, were far from pleased, giving a tight-lipped smile as he just barely glances your way.

"Hi, I'm Miss Y/n, Yuji's teacher." You announce, taking a tissue to wipe Yuji's nose one last time before he left.

"Uh huh," He responds, grimacing as you wipe the snot away.

"So, Yuji had a pretty good day today, but I did have to have a chat with him about..fighting and hitting other friends." You explain, feeling smaller under his sharp gaze. His face is tatted too, the thick dark lines running along his nose, cheeks, and jawline.

"You in here beatin people up?" He states sharply at the boy who only nods with a smile.

"Yeah! Like how you said you beat everyone up!" Yuji admits ith joy and his Uncle's face falls.

"Yes so, before Yuji hit the other child he told me that you...fight people and I told him that we use our nice hands. But right after that, he had-" "Hit another kid. The parents mad?" He asks, a bit troubled now, most likely mentally cursing himself for kinda causing this whole debacle. \

"W-well I can't really disclose that. The point is, please just chat with him and hopefully, he can learn that's not okay." You explain, feeling a bit more relieved since the convo went smoother than usual. And part of you was a little... flustered with how seriously he was looking at you. You couldn't help but look at his tatted and flexed arm as he moved Yuji to sit on his shoulders.

"Yeah, well, here have my number so if anything else happens and I'm picking up you can just let me know." He hums, pulling his phone skillfully from his sweatpants pocket and

Holy shit...

You think to yourself, seeing the print just faintly. You swallow, taking the divide and inputting yoi contact.

The pair leaves, Your heart trobbbing as you take a breath. Being any type of romantically involved with your students' parents was highly unprofessional...but the rules never said anything about hot tattooed uncles.

-in the car-

Sukuna buckled Yuji into his seat, passing the child a happy meal he'd picked up as payment for a job well done.

"Nice work. How bout next time you mention your Uncles got no girlfriend either." He laughs, backing out of the parking space with your number and a grin.

Authors Note; Ok yes i wrote this on a whim I swear I'm trying to finish the stuff I had listed on my update post lmao

Also might make a part 2 for this cause I freaking love this au

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

next >

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[purplereina11]

The Perfect Shot Series Your First Fight

Word Count: 9k

This is long and angsty I'm sorry 🙈

The Spanish national team’s training camp buzzes with the usual energy—players chatting, boots scuffing against the grass, coaches calling out instructions. You adjust the camera strap over your shoulder, taking in the sight of world-class athletes moving in sync.

You got a phone call asking you to be the photographer of this camp as a one off when there usual photographer couldn’t make it.

It should be exciting, an honor even, but there’s a tension in the air. A tension with a name: Alexia Putellas.

She’s been distant, barely acknowledging your presence since you arrived. That in itself doesn’t surprise you, she was the utmost professional after all. What does is the way she reacts whenever the camera in her direction while you’re the one behind it. A stiffening of her shoulders. A flicker of discomfort in her eyes. An avoidance so deliberate it might as well be a statement.

It reaches a breaking point during the evening media session. You’re supposed to get candid shots of the team laughing and bonding, but every time Alexia is in frame, she either turns away or subtly shifts behind someone else. It’s obvious now—not just to you, but to others.

You lower the camera and exhale sharply. Fine. If she has a problem, you’ll face it head-on.

Later, in the hallway outside the dining room, you find her scrolling through her phone, leaning against the wall. She barely glances up when you approach.

“Can we talk?” you ask, arms crossed.

She sighs, tucking her phone away. “What about?”

“You tell me.” Your voice is sharp, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’ve been avoiding me all day. Acting like I don’t exist unless someone forces you to acknowledge me. If there’s an issue, say it.”

Her jaw tightens. “There’s no issue.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’re embarrassed by me.” The words come out before you can stop them, but once they’re in the open, you realise they’re true. “And if that’s the case, just be honest about it.”

Alexia’s eyes darken, her posture straightening defensively. “That’s not—” She stops herself, exhaling through her nose. “I’m not embarrassed by you.”

“Then what?” You step closer, unwilling to let her brush this off. “Because you sure as hell aren’t acting like someone who’s comfortable with me being here.”

She hesitates, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. “It’s complicated.”

“Make it simple.”

For a moment, she looks like she might. Her lips part, something unreadable flickering in her expression—but then she shakes her head. “I can’t.”

And just like that, she walks away, leaving you standing there with more questions than answers.

You stare after Alexia as she walks away, frustration burning in your chest. She didn’t even try to deny it properly. Just threw out a half-assed excuse and left you standing there like an idiot.

The rest of the evening drags. Even when you’re surrounded by the other players, their laughter echoing in the dining hall, you can’t shake the feeling that you don’t belong. You shouldn’t care—not about whatever her problem is—but the weight of her avoidance sits heavy on your shoulders.

The next straw comes the next morning during training. You’re on the sidelines, camera in hand, capturing moments of focus, intensity, and camaraderie. The lens finds Alexia—because of course it does. 

She’s the heartbeat of this team, the one everyone gravitates toward.

And then it happens again.

You’re mid-shot when she turns away, moving behind another player as if she can’t stand being seen in your frame. It’s not subtle this time. Not a coincidence.

You drop the camera from your face, hands curling into fists. Enough.

When the session ends, you catch her before she can disappear into the locker room. “Hey,” you call, voice sharp. She pauses, shoulders stiff, but doesn’t turn. That only pisses you off more. “Look at me.”

She does—slowly, reluctantly. Her expression is guarded, like she’s bracing for something she doesn’t want to deal with.

“I need to know,” you say, voice quieter now but no less intense. “What’s your problem with me?”

Alexia exhales through her nose. “I told you—”

“Yeah, that it’s complicated,” you interrupt. “But you know what’s not complicated? Treating me like a person instead of an inconvenience.” Your voice wavers, and you hate that it does. “If you don’t want me here, just say it. Say whatever it is you actually feel instead of making me second-guess everything.”

Her jaw tightens. For a second, you think she’s going to walk away again. But then, she mutters, “I didn’t ask for you to be here.”

The words hit harder than they should. You swallow around the lump in your throat. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Alexia looks away, crossing her arms. “It means this isn’t easy for me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a dream for me either,” you snap. “But I’m here. And the least you could do is respect that. And respect I have a job to do”

She doesn’t answer. Just stares past you, jaw clenched. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

“Forget it,” you mutter, turning on your heel before she can see the hurt in your expression. You don’t see the way she exhales shakily when you leave. You don’t see the guilt in her eyes. But you feel the weight of it anyway.

You don’t speak to Alexia for the rest of the day. You don’t even look at her if you can help it. Not that it makes a difference—she’s still avoiding you, still acting like your presence is some kind of burden. Fine. If that’s how she wants it, so be it. But it’s not that easy to ignore someone when you’re stuck in the same space. Dinner is the worst. The players are in high spirits after a good training session, laughter bouncing off the walls of the dining hall. You sit at the far end of the table, keeping your focus on your food, but you can feel her presence. Like a storm cloud at the edge of your vision.

You don’t want to care. But then you catch a snippet of conversation from the other side of the table.

“You’ve been weird all day, Ale,” Jenni teases. “You hiding something?”

Alexia scoffs, shaking her head. “No.”

“You sure? You’ve been quiet. Even more than usual.”

“Leave it, Jenni.” The warning in her tone makes the table go quiet for a second. You don’t react. Don’t even glance up. But your grip on your fork tightens.

That night, you’re in your room, scrolling mindlessly through your camera roll, when there’s a knock at the door. You frown, setting the camera aside. No one has knocked on your door since you got here—not even the team’s media staff—so whoever it is, you weren’t expecting them.

You open the door, and of course, it’s her. Alexia stands there, arms crossed, looking more uncomfortable than you’ve ever seen her.

For a second, neither of you speak. Then, you sigh. “What do you want?”

She hesitates, glancing past you like she’s reconsidering being here at all. Then, finally, she says, “Can we talk?”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Now you want to talk?”

She flinches, but you don’t care. You step back, leaving the door open, waiting. After a beat, she walks inside.

You close the door behind her, crossing your arms. “Alright. Talk.”

Alexia runs a hand through her hair, exhaling harshly. “I know I’ve been—” She stops, shaking her head. “I know I haven’t been fair to you.”

That much is obvious, but you say nothing.

She looks at you then, and for the first time, there’s something raw in her expression. Something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know how to fix it,” she admits. That’s the thing about Alexia—she’s stubborn, proud, always in control. But right now, she looks lost. And that throws you completely off balance.

You let out a sharp breath, crossing your arms tighter. “You don’t know how to fix it?” you echo, voice laced with disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

Alexia’s jaw tightens. “I—”

“No.” You shake your head, cutting her off. “You’ve spent the last two days making me feel like I don’t belong here. You won’t even look at me when I have a camera in my hands. You think I haven’t noticed? That no one else has?”

She exhales sharply, running a hand over her face like she’s trying to keep herself in check. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Alexia!” The frustration spills out of you now, too sharp to hold back. “Because I’m sick of guessing, sick of being treated like I don’t exist just because you can’t figure your own shit out.”

Her eyes darken at that. “You think this is just about me?”

“Oh, please.” You let out a bitter laugh. “You won’t even tell me what it is about. I’ve given you every opportunity, and all you do is push me away.”

Alexia takes a step closer, eyes flashing. “Maybe I push you away because I have to.”

Your stomach twists, but you refuse to let it show. “You have to?” you scoff. “What, is it some kind of punishment? Because it sure as hell feels like one.”

She shakes her head, exasperated. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me!” Your voice rises, the anger mixing with something more painful, something you don’t want to name. “Or is this just who you are? You shut people out, make them feel like they don’t matter, and expect them to just accept it?”

Alexia’s expression hardens, her voice dropping to something sharp and low. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The words hit like a slap.

You inhale sharply, your nails digging into your palms. “You’re right,” you say coldly.

For a moment, she just stares at you, breathing hard. Like she wants to say something else, something that might make this worse—or maybe better. But then she turns on her heel. And for the second time in two days, she walks away.

You don’t call after her. But the weight of whatever just happened settles deep in your chest, refusing to leave.

The days that follow are unbearable.

Alexia doesn’t just avoid you now—she outright ignores you. If you walk into a room, she leaves. If you’re forced into the same space, she acts like you’re invisible. It’s not subtle, and the rest of the team notices.

“Did something happen between you two?” Mapi asks one afternoon, watching as Alexia strides past without so much as a glance in your direction.

“You tell me,” you mumble, focusing on your camera.

Mapi doesn’t buy it, but she doesn’t push. Still, the tension bleeds into everything. During training, you do your job, but it feels hollow. Your best shots are wasted on a team you don’t even feel welcome around anymore. You had no idea what Alexia had told her teammates and friends, you didn’t know what you had done wrong but you did know you hated the way she was making you feel.

At meals, you sit alone, drowning in the sound of conversations you aren’t part of.

At night, you stare at the ceiling, your mind replaying the fight over and over, trying to understand why Alexia is acting like this—why she looked so wrecked before she walked away.

It would be easier if you could hate her for it. But you don’t. You just feel… hurt. By the fourth day, you decide you’re done trying.

If Alexia wants distance, fine. She’ll get it.

You stop looking for her in a crowd, stop glancing her way when you pick up your camera. If she’s in frame, you turn the lens elsewhere. And it works—at least on the surface. But that night, after dinner, as you walk back to your room, you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait.”

You freeze.

It’s her.

You don’t turn around right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch, let her feel the weight of what she’s done. When you do face her, Alexia looks like she hasn’t slept in days. And for the first time, she doesn’t look angry. She just looks… defeated. “We need to talk,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

You cross your arms, your own exhaustion seeping into your tone. “Why? So you can push me away again?”

“No.” She swallows hard. “So I can tell you the truth.”

You stare at her, unmoving. A few days ago, you might have jumped at the chance to finally understand what the hell her problem is. But now? Now, you’re not sure you even want to hear it. She isn’t your girlfriend after all, you hadn’t told each other you loved each other, you’d just had multiple incredible dates met her family her memory etched to your skin of the day you got your tattoos with her. Not to mention the one and only time you’d had sex, thinking back you were moving quickly. Your feelings were deep pretty early on, you met her family three days after you first had sex. Maybe that was her issue? But that was her idea, the meeting of the family, the sex was a mutual understanding.

Alexia shifts on her feet when you don’t respond right away. “Please,” she says, her voice quieter this time.

You exhale sharply and shake your head. “You don’t get to do this.”

Her brows knit together. “Do what?”

“Decide when I’m worth acknowledging,” you snap. “Ignore me for days, act like I don’t exist, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it suits you.”

She flinches. Good. Let her feel a fraction of what she’s put you through. “That’s not—” She exhales, rubbing her hand over her face. “I know I’ve handled this badly.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Handled what badly, Alexia? You still won’t even say it.”

She clenches her jaw, and for a second, you think she’s going to shut down again. Walk away like she always does. But instead, she looks at you—really looks at you.

And there’s something in her expression, something that almost makes you hesitate.

Almost.

But then she says, “I just need you to listen.” And that sets you off all over again.

“Oh, now you want me to listen?” You step closer, anger bubbling over. “After everything? After making me feel like I don’t belong here, like I’m some kind of problem for you?” Alexia’s breathing is uneven, her fists clenched at her sides. But she doesn’t interrupt. “You don’t get to ask for that,” you continue, voice thick with something you don’t want to name. “Not after spending days pretending I don’t exist. Not after making me feel like shit.”

Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment like she’s bracing herself. Then, she whispers, “I didn’t mean to.”

You huff out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Well, you did.”

Silence stretches between you. Thick. Suffocating. Alexia looks away first, exhaling sharply. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Then don’t. I’m done with this conversation.”

You turn, stepping past her, but she reaches out, fingers barely brushing your wrist. The contact is brief—so brief you could pretend it didn’t happen.

But you feel it.

And so does she.

Still, you don’t stop. You walk away, leaving her standing there in the dimly lit hallway, alone with whatever it is she refuses to say.

You don’t speak to Alexia after that.

Not the next morning when she sits at the far end of the dining table, eyes downcast.

Not during training, when you focus on every player except her, your lens avoiding her like she’s nothing more than empty space.

Not even when she hesitates in a doorway as you pass each other, like she wants to say something but thinks better of it.

You don’t give her the chance. You don’t give her anything.

And she feels it.

You see it in the way her shoulders tense when you laugh at something Mapi says. In the way she falters mid-drill, missing an easy pass, frustration flashing across her face. In the way she glances at you when she thinks you aren’t looking—quick, fleeting, like a habit she’s trying to break.

But you don’t care.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The silence between you stretches into something heavier, something unspoken but impossible to ignore. The team notices. They don’t ask, but the shift in energy is obvious. The easy camaraderie that filled the camp before is fractured now, disrupted by something none of them can name.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted. You thought distance would make this easier, but it hasn’t. It’s just made the weight of it harder to carry. Then, on the last night of camp, something cracks.

It’s late. Too late to still be awake, but sleep hasn’t come easy since this whole mess started. You step outside, hoping the cool night air will settle something in your chest, but you aren’t alone.

Alexia is sitting on the steps just outside the building, arms resting on her knees. She looks as tired as you feel.

You hesitate for only a second before turning to leave.

“I get it,” she says suddenly, voice quiet but firm. You stop. But you don’t turn around. “I deserve this,” she continues. “The way you’re treating me. Ignoring me.” A pause. “It’s fair.”

You clench your jaw, staring ahead. “Good,” you say, voice flat.

A sigh. Then, “But it doesn’t change anything.”

Something inside you snaps at that. You turn, eyes sharp. “Doesn’t change what, Alexia? That you still refuse to tell me the truth? That you’re still shutting me out?” You shake your head, scoffing. “Then what the hell was the point of all this?”

She exhales slowly, gripping her hands together like she’s trying to hold herself together.

You wait.

But when she finally lifts her gaze to yours, whatever she’s holding back is still locked behind her eyes.

Still unsaid.

Still a weight you don’t understand. And just like that, the distance between you grows wider. You scoff, shaking your head. “Of course.” Alexia watches you, something almost desperate flickering behind her guarded expression. But she still won’t say it. Still won’t let you in. And you’re done waiting. “You know what?” You take a step back, hands clenched at your sides. “I don’t care anymore.” Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that. Like she wasn’t expecting you to finally be the one to walk away. “I’ve spent hours—days—trying to understand this,” you continue, your voice shaking with barely restrained frustration. “Trying to figure out what the hell I did to deserve this.” Alexia swallows, but she says nothing. “And you just let me.” Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You let me sit in it. Let me wonder if I was the problem. And for what? Because you ‘can’t explain’?” You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s bullshit, Alexia.” She flinches. But you don’t stop. “If you don’t want me around, just say it,” you snap. “At least have the guts to be honest instead of playing this game where you act like I don’t exist until it suits you.” She shakes her head, but you don’t give her the chance to cut in. “I meant it when I said I’m done.” Your chest rises and falls sharply, the weight of it pressing down on you. “You don’t want to talk? Fine. You don’t want to look at me? Great. Because I don’t want to be around you either.”

Silence.

Thick, suffocating silence.

Alexia looks at you then, really looks at you, and for the first time, there’s something raw in her expression. Something fragile. But you don’t care. You won’t care. Not anymore. So you turn without another word, walking away before she can see the way your hands are shaking. And, she doesn’t stop you.

You don’t sleep that night.

Your mind replays the conversation over and over, each word twisting like a knife in your chest. The way Alexia just stood there, silent, letting you walk away—it’s the final confirmation you needed. Whatever you had with her—whatever complicated, unspoken thing had existed between you—it’s over. And in the morning, you decide to make it real.

You find her alone in the gym, stretching after an early workout. She looks up as you approach, something flickering in her eyes. But you don’t give her the chance to speak.

“This isn’t working,” you say, voice steady despite the storm inside you.

Her brows knit together. “What?”

“You and me. Whatever this is. Was.” You exhale, forcing the words out before you lose your nerve. “I’m done.”

Something cracks in her expression, but she masks it quickly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” The finality in your voice seems to hit her harder than the words themselves.

She straightens, arms crossing over her chest like she’s bracing for impact. “You’re just angry—”

“No, Alexia.” You cut her off, your voice sharper now. “I’m tired." She blinks, thrown off by the honesty in your tone. “I’m tired of trying,” you continue. “Tired of chasing after something that clearly doesn’t exist.” You swallow hard, forcing the next words out. “You don’t want me around? Fine. You win. You could of at least had the balls to end it instead of doing it this way” She inhales sharply, but still—still—she doesn’t say anything to stop you. And that’s all the confirmation you need. You nod, stepping back. “Goodbye, Alexia.” Then you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in the empty gym, alone. This time, you don’t look back. And, she doesn’t follow.

The days that follow are quiet.

Too quiet.

You expected things to feel different after ending it with Alexia, and they do—but not in the way you thought. You don’t feel lighter. 

You don’t feel relieved.

You just feel empty.

Alexia doesn’t try to fix it. Doesn’t chase after you, doesn’t pull you aside and tell you she made a mistake. She doesn’t do anything. And that should make this easier. But it doesn’t. The rest of the team senses the shift. They don’t know exactly what happened, but they don’t have to. The tension is obvious. You hear the whispers when they think you aren’t listening. You see the looks exchanged when you and Alexia end up in the same space, pretending the other doesn’t exist. You do your job. You keep your head down, keep the camera steady, keep yourself composed. But at night, when you’re alone, the weight of it presses in. Because no matter how much you tell yourself you made the right choice, no matter how much you try to shove the anger and hurt aside… It still lingers. And somewhere, in the middle of it all, a question haunts you. If Alexia didn’t care, if she really wanted you gone—why did she look so broken when you walked away?

A hesitation when she enters a room and realises you’re there. The way she avoids certain conversations, her usual sharp-witted remarks replaced with silence. The way she lingers after meetings like she wants to say something, but never does. You catch her staring a few times. It’s never for long—just a flicker of something unreadable before she looks away. But it’s enough to make your stomach twist. And then, one night, when she thinks no one is watching, you see her gripping her phone too tightly, screen illuminating her face. Whatever she’s looking at, it makes her exhale sharply, shutting it off like she can’t bear to keep looking. You don’t know why it bothers you. You don’t care anymore. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. But then, the storm finally hits. It’s after training, when everyone is tired, sweat still clinging to their skin. The mood is tense, exhaustion pressing down on the group as they leave the pitch.

And then— “Alexia, what’s your problem lately?” You don’t turn right away, but you recognise Mapi’s voice—frustrated, impatient. Silence “You’ve been off for days,” Mapi presses. “Distracted, quiet… miserable. And I know it’s not just because of training.”

You hear Alexia exhale sharply. “Drop it.”

“No.” Mapi’s voice is firm now. “If you don’t talk to me, at least talk to them.”

Your chest tightens. Another silence stretches between them, heavier this time. Then— “There’s nothing to say.” Alexia’s voice is strained, but cold. “It’s done.” It shouldn’t sting. But it does.

Mapi scoffs. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you’re about to fall apart?” You don’t stay to hear the rest. You turn, walking away before you can hear whatever excuse Alexia gives this time.

But later that night, long after the camp has settled into silence, there’s a knock at your door. You hesitate before opening it. And when you do—Alexia is standing there. And for the first time since this all started, she looks like she’s about to break.

You grip the doorframe, heart hammering in your chest. Alexia looks different. The exhaustion is obvious—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders tense like she’s been carrying something too heavy for too long. But it’s the expression on her face that really gets to you. Like she’s on the edge of something she doesn’t know how to control.

“Can we talk?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s an urgency beneath it.

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening against the wood. “Now?”

She nods. You hesitate. For a second, you almost let her in. Almost let yourself believe that whatever she has to say will make any of this better. But then you remember the days of silence. The way she let you walk away like you were nothing.

Your jaw clenches. “I don’t think we have anything left to say.”

Her face barely shifts, but something flickers in her eyes. “I know I hurt you,” she says, voice steady, but her hands curl into fists like she’s holding something back. “I know I fucked up.”

You scoff. “Yeah? Well, congratulations on figuring that out.” She flinches, but you don’t stop. “Do you even know what it was like?” Your voice sharpens, the weight of everything crashing down. “To have you act like I didn’t exist? To have you push me away without a single explanation?” Alexia’s breathing is uneven now, like she’s trying to keep herself together. “I tried, Alexia,” you continue, voice shaking. “I tried so hard to be patient, to give you time, to understand. But you gave me nothing. And then when I finally had enough, when I walked away, you just let me.” She swallows hard, looking away. “You let me think I wasn’t worth fighting for,” you say, the words finally spilling out. “And now, what? You suddenly want to talk?” You shake your head, stepping back. “It’s too late.”

She exhales sharply, her whole body tense. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Your voice is firm, but your hands are shaking. “You don’t get to decide when I matter. You don’t get to choose when you care.”

Alexia’s jaw clenches, and for a second, it looks like she’s about to argue. About to fight back. But instead, her shoulders drop, and something breaks in her expression.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

Then, finally.

“I do care,” she whispers.

And for the first time since this all started, it sounds like the truth. But you shake your head. “Then why didn’t you show it?”

She inhales sharply, looking down at the floor. Her hands flex at her sides, like she’s fighting some internal war. And for a moment, you think she’s going to shut down again. “I was scared.”

The words are barely above a whisper, but they hit like a thunderclap. Your stomach twists, but you don’t let yourself react. Not yet. “Scared of what?”

Alexia exhales shakily. Then, finally, she lifts her gaze to yours. And this time, she doesn’t look away. Alexia doesn’t answer right away. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her hands flex at her sides, her breathing uneven. You’ve never seen her like this. She’s always been composed, always been in control. But right now, she looks like she’s fighting a battle with herself—one she’s on the verge of losing. And for once, you don’t let her off the hook.

“What were you scared of?” you press, voice sharper now. “Because if you think that’s enough of an excuse for everything you put me through, it’s not.” Her throat bobs as she swallows, gaze flickering away. You step closer, forcing her to look at you. “Say it, Alexia.”

She exhales shakily, but still, the words don’t come. The silence stretches.

And you’ve had enough.

You shake your head, stepping back. “You can’t, can you?” Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it. “Even now, when it’s already over. When you have nothing left to lose.” Her eyes snap to yours, something breaking beneath the surface. “Why did you push me away?” You push again, desperate now. “Why did you act like you were embarrassed of me? Why did you let me walk away?”

She clenches her jaw, lips parting slightly—like the words are right there, stuck in her throat. She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I—” She stops, biting her lip, forcing herself to start again. “I—” You hold your breath, waiting. “I was scared.” The words hit you like a gut punch. Alexia exhales, shaking her head. “I was scared ok, that’s it.” Her voice wavers, barely above a whisper. “That I’d lose you.” You just stare at her. She laughs bitterly, shaking her head at herself. “And in trying to stop that from happening, I lost you anyway.”

Her words linger in the space between you, heavy and raw. And for the first time since this all started, Alexia doesn’t look away. She lets you see everything. All of it. And now, it’s your turn to decide what to do with it.

You let out a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Just disbelief. Just exhaustion. “That’s it?” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the air like a blade. “That’s your excuse?” Alexia flinches, and for the first time, she looks… scared. Good. Because you’re tired of being the only one who feels this way. “I spent days thinking I did something wrong,” you continue, voice shaking. “Thinking I wasn’t enough. That I embarrassed you. And the whole time, it was just… you?” Alexia opens her mouth, but you don’t let her speak. “No,” you shake your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to stand here and say that now—now that it’s too late.”

“I know,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I know I—”

“You don’t,” you snap, cutting her off. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have let it get this far.” Her eyes are shining now, like she’s barely holding herself together. But you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when it still hurts this much. You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to steady your voice. “I can’t do this right now.”

Alexia tenses. “Please—”

“No.” You step back, putting more distance between you. “You don’t get to ask me for anything else.”

The days that follow are empty. You leave camp without a word, without looking back. No messages, no calls. Just silence. And for the first time, you let yourself sit in the hurt. You don’t try to make sense of it. Don’t try to find closure in her words. Because right now, none of it changes the fact that she let you walk away. So you go home. Back to Barcelona, back to the quiet of your own space. You throw yourself into work, into anything that keeps your mind off her. And it works. Mostly. But late at night, when the city outside your window slows to a hush, the truth creeps in. You miss her. You hate that you do, but it doesn’t stop the ache from settling deep in your chest. But missing her doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t the one who needs to fix it. I was scared isn’t the explanation you needed or deserved.  So you don’t reach out. And neither does she.

Until one night, long after you’ve stopped expecting it— There’s a knock at your door.

And when you open it— Alexia is standing there. Looking wrecked. Looking desperate. Looking like she’s finally ready to say what she should have said all along.

You don’t say anything at first. You just stare at her, gripping the doorframe, heart hammering in your chest. She looks awful. Like she hasn’t been sleeping, like the weight of everything has finally caught up to her. But you don’t let that sway you.

Not yet. “What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat, careful.

Alexia exhales sharply, shifting on her feet. “I—” She stops, like she doesn’t know where to start. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate.

“No.”

She flinches, just slightly. “Please.”

Your jaw clenches. “Why now, Alexia?” The question cuts through the space between you. “Why show up now, when you could’ve said something days ago?”

She swallows hard. “Because I was a coward.” The honesty catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. Alexia inhales shakily, meeting your gaze properly now. “I hurt you. I know that. And I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Her voice wavers, but she pushes through it. “But I couldn’t let it end like that. Not without a proper explanation, i care about you more than to let that happen”

You stare at her for a long moment, searching for something—proof that this isn’t just another half-hearted apology. That she actually understands what she’s done. And for once, there’s no hesitation in her eyes. Just raw, unfiltered regret. The silence stretches, thick and heavy. You step back. Just slightly. Just enough.

“Say what you came to say.” It’s not an invitation inside. Not yet. But it’s a chance. And for the first time since this all started, Alexia doesn’t waste it.

She exhales shakily, nodding once like she’s bracing herself. Then, finally, she speaks. “I was scared,” she says, voice raw. “Of what you meant to me. Of how much I felt for you.” You don’t react. You’ve heard this part before. But Alexia keeps going. “I’ve always known how to handle pressure. On the pitch, in my career… I know how to be in control.” She swallows hard. “But with you, I wasn’t.” She looks down, shaking her head. “It terrified me.” Your chest tightens, but you stay silent, waiting. Alexia exhales. “I spoke to friends at camp before you arrived, they pointed out the age gap. How maybe i’m further along in my life than you are and how i want a marriage a family and maybe you wouldn’t be there yet. I didn’t want to date you to only in a few years find out you didn’t want the same and my chance had passed. I kept telling myself that if I kept you at a distance, if I didn’t let myself fall too deep, I could stop it from hurting if i decided the risk wasn’t.. worth it.” Her voice wavers, but she forces herself to keep going. “I know i’m using all the wrong words because of course your worth it of course you are, i wanted some distance to think to, i guess selfishly think about what i wanted but all I did was push you away until there was nothing left.” She looks up again, eyes shining with unshed tears. “And I hate myself for it.” The words hit you hard. Because for the first time, it doesn’t feel like she’s holding anything back. No more excuses. No more half-truths. Just everything—laid bare, vulnerable, real. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Alexia continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “But I needed you to know. I needed you to hear it from me. Carlas bound to find out” She exhales sharply, looking down. “And if walking away is what you need to do… I won’t stop you.” Then she falls silent, standing there in the doorway, waiting. For your answer. For your decision. For whatever comes next.

Alexia watches you, waiting for something, for a sign, a word, anything. But you can’t give her that. Not yet. You inhale sharply, gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “You know what the worst part is?” Your voice is quiet, but steady. Alexia doesn’t answer. She just waits, bracing herself. You exhale, shaking your head. “You pushed me away like I was nothing. Like I was easy to walk away from.” Your throat tightens. “Like they did.” Her expression shatters. You swallow hard. “I can’t just… pretend that didn’t happen. That it doesn’t still hurt.” Alexia nods slowly, eyes filled with something unspoken. You take a step back, the distance between you widening again. “I need time.” She closes her eyes briefly, exhaling sharply—like she expected it but hoped it wouldn’t come to this. When she opens them again, there’s no argument, no pleading. Just quiet understanding.

“Okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. You nod once, then—before you can second-guess it—you shut the door. The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t know how long she stands outside before she leaves. You don’t check. All you know is that, for now, this is what you need. Because if there’s any chance of fixing this— you owed it to Alexia to figure out where you were in life what you wanted to be able to lay that out to her. You may be upset with her right now but you respected her position in life.

Days pass. Then weeks. Alexia doesn’t push. She doesn’t call, doesn’t show up again, doesn’t try to force her way back into your life. And for the first time since this all started, you don’t know how to feel about it. You told her you needed time. She’s giving it to you. But a small part of you wonders if this is it—if she’s finally letting go. The thought settles uneasily in your chest, and you try to shake it off. This is what you wanted. What you asked for. And yet her absence lingers. You feel it in the quiet moments. When your phone stays silent. When you pass places in the city where you used to meet her. When something happens and you instinctively think about telling her only to remember that she’s not there anymore. You tell yourself it’s for the best. That space is necessary. That you need to be sure before you let her in again. But the question remains— When will you be ready?

And more importantly— Will she still be there when you are?

The day arrives sooner than you expect. You bump into her at Barcelona Vs Badalona.

You throw yourself into your work, keeping your camera steady, your focus sharp. But you feel her.  Every time she moves across the pitch, every time she’s near your side of the field, the weight of her presence presses against you. It’s suffocating, but you refuse to let it show. So you do what you’ve done for weeks now—you push it down.  

The match plays on, tense and fast-paced, but you barely register the score. All you know is that whenever you shift your camera, Alexia is there. And sometimes—just sometimes—she’s looking at you too. But neither of you acknowledge it. Not at halftime, when the teams walk past each other and her steps falter ever so slightly as she nears you. Not when the final whistle blows, and she lingers on the pitch as you pack up your equipment.   And certainly not when you make your way towards the tunnel, feeling the burn of her gaze on your back but refusing to turn around.  She could say something. She could stop you. But she doesn’t. And maybe that’s what stings the most.   Because even after everything—even after all this time—you’re still caught in this unbearable in-between.  

And neither of you knows how to break it. Both as stubborn as the other to make the first move

More days pass. Then a week.  

You don’t expect to see her again so soon, but Barcelona is Barcelona—a city too small when you’re trying to avoid someone. It happens at a café in between your places of work, one you’ve been coming to everyday. You’re just picking up your order, turning to leave and there she is.  Standing just a few feet away, eyes already on you.  For a second, neither of you move. Alexia shifts, like she’s about to say something. But you beat her to it. You step past her without a word.   And even though you don’t look back, you hear her exhale sharply, like the air’s just been knocked out of her chest. Like she wasn’t expecting it to hurt this much.  

The next time you see her, neither of you has a choice.  When a sudden downpour starts. And before you even realise what’s happening, you’re being pushed into a small, sheltered alleyway by her.  Just the two of you.  

The rain pounds against the roofs, drowning out everything else, but the silence between you is deafening. You exhale sharply, turning away, about to step out into the rain just to get away from her but then, "Stop," Alexia says, voice tight.  And for the first time, she doesn’t let you walk away. Your hand clenches into a fist at your side, but you don’t move. Alexia exhales shakily. "I can’t keep doing this."  

Your jaw tenses. "Doing what?"  

She gestures vaguely between you. "This. Pretending like we don’t exist. Like everything that happened didn’t matter."  

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face her. "You think I’m pretending?" The anger you’ve been holding in for weeks finally spills over. "You think this is easy for me?"  

Alexia flinches but doesn’t back down. "Then talk to me," she says, voice almost desperate now. "Please."  

Your throat tightens. Because you want to. You really do. But wanting and trusting are two different things. And you still don’t know if you can trust her again. So you meet her gaze, holding it for just a second longer, “What you’re feeling is probably a fraction of how you made me feel at international camp” Then you step out into the rain, letting it soak through your clothes, washing everything away. Everything except the sound of Alexia’s voice, breaking behind you. The rain doesn’t stop her.  

But you do. You don’t answer her texts. You ignore the calls that come in late at night, the ones you know she wouldn’t make unless she was desperate. Every time you push her away, she hesitates like she’s about to stop trying. But she never does. She keeps showing up in ways that make it harder to ignore her. Small things at first just seeing her across the city, at restaurants, at places she knows you might be. She never approaches, but you feel her watching, waiting for an opening that never comes.  

Then the messages change. No more apologies. No more explanations. Just—  

"Tell me what to do."

You never respond. Because it’s not that simple. Because she should’ve known. Because it shouldn’t have taken losing you for her to realise how much she wanted to keep you. Give you the opportunity to decide what you wanted instead of her taking that from you.

But something shifts. And this time, it’s not her chasing you. It’s her finally stopping. No more messages. No more calls. Just silence.  And for the first time since this all started It’s making you wonder have you pushed too far?

The invitation comes expectedly.  

Carla’s birthday party—just a casual gathering, nothing too big. You almost don’t go, almost use work as an excuse, but in the end, you convince yourself it’s fine. It’s Carla. It has nothing to do with Alexia. Of course, she’s there. You feel it the second you step inside. The shift in the air, the weight of something unresolved pressing down on the room. You tell yourself to ignore it. You grab a drink, join a conversation, pretend not to notice the way Alexia lingers just out of reach. But you do notice. Because she’s different now. Quieter. Not in the way that means she’s keeping something in, but in the way that means she’s already said everything she could. Not chasing. Not pushing. And somehow, that makes it worse. You’d possibly missed the opportunity of a reconciliation with your stubbornness.

Because for weeks, you convinced yourself that she needed to prove she wanted this. That she needed to fight for it. But now she’s stopped fighting.  And suddenly, you realise you’re proving her worries right, if you were that interested in making a life with her, would you have walked away so easily from outside perspectives?

The night stretches on, tension thick and suffocating. You don’t talk. You barely even look at each other. Until Carla, in her tipsy, oblivious state, makes everything worse. “You two still not talking?” she says loudly, eyes darting between you. The room quiets, but you don’t move.  

Alexia exhales sharply, setting her drink down. “I should go.” And just like that, she turns to leave.

And now it’s on you.  Because if you don’t stop her, this time, she won’t come back. Your voice comes out before you can stop it. “You don’t need to go on my account.”

Alexia stills.

The room is too quiet now, too many eyes flickering between you, but you don’t care. Slowly, she turns back around, meeting your gaze properly for the first time all night. Something flickers in her expression cautious, uncertain. Like she doesn’t know if this is an opening or just another way to keep her at a distance. And truthfully, you don’t know either. Alexia searches your face for something, but when you don’t say anything else, she just exhales and nods once. “Okay.”

She doesn’t leave. But she doesn’t come closer either. Just like that, the tension shifts again no longer pushing you apart, but not quite pulling you back together either. Something unspoken lingers between you, heavy and fragile. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure who’s going to make the next move.

It happens naturally, almost too easily—like the universe is done waiting for you to figure it out. You reach the buffet table at the same time, neither of you expecting the other. It’s too late to turn away, too awkward to ignore.  

Alexia hesitates first, but then, instead of leaving, she reaches for a plate. Silent. Waiting.  You do the same.  

The room carries on around you, conversation and laughter blending together, but here, at this small stretch of table, it’s just the two of you. You glance at her. She’s focused on the food in front of her, like picking between croquettes and empanadas is the hardest decision she’s ever had to make. And maybe it’s that, how ridiculous the moment is, how long you’ve been avoiding this—that finally makes you speak.  

“This is stupid.”  

Alexia looks at you, surprised. “What is?”  

You gesture vaguely between you. “This. Whatever this is.”  

Alexia exhales through her nose, setting her plate down. Silence stretches for a beat too long. Then, voice quieter now, she says, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”  

The honesty in her words knocks something loose in your chest. For so long, she chased, and you ran. For so long, you wanted her to fight, and now she’s standing here, admitting she doesn’t know how to anymore. When she admitted she wanted you to chase to prove you wanted a life with her

You swallow. “I don’t either.”  

Alexia nods, like that’s the answer she expected. Like she understands.  For the first time, it feels like neither of you is waiting for the other to fix it. You’re just… here. In this moment. And maybe, finally, that’s a start.  

Alexia shifts, leaning slightly against the table. She glances at you, then back at her plate, like she’s trying to find the right words. “I meant it,” she says eventually. “Back at the tunnel. When I said I can’t keep doing this.”

You nod slowly, fingers tightening around your plate. “I know.”

She exhales, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

There it is. The thing you’ve both been dancing around for weeks. You take a breath. “You can’t just fix it, Alexia. That’s not how this works.”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t argue. You set your plate down, finally turning to face her fully.

“You hurt me,” you say, voice steady. “And I know you didn’t mean to, but you did. And it’s not something you can just make go away by saying the right thing.”

Alexia swallows hard. “I know.” The honesty in her voice, the way she’s not trying to defend herself—it’s different from before.

She shakes her head, exhaling sharply. “I just” Her voice catches, and she looks away for a second, regaining control. “I handled everything wrong. I let my own fears get in the way, and I pushed you away when I should’ve held on and just had a conversation” Your throat tightens. “I should’ve,” she continues, voice quieter now. “For you.”

The words hit deeper than you expect. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? She always had a choice. And she chose to push you away. And even now, even after everything, that still hurts. You inhale slowly. “It’s not just about what you should’ve done. It’s about what happens now.”

Alexia nods, eyes searching yours. “So… what happens now?” That’s the question, isn’t it? And for once, you don’t have an easy answer. But at least, for the first time, you’re both finally asking it. Alexia watches you, waiting, but you don’t answer right away. Because this isn’t simple. It never was.

You exhale, pressing your fingers against the edge of the table. “I don’t know.”

Alexia nods, but there’s a flicker of something in her expression—hesitation, uncertainty, maybe even fear. You swallow hard, eyes drifting away for a moment before finally speaking again.

“It wasn’t just about what happened,” you admit, voice quieter now. “It was what it reminded me of.” Alexia’s brows pull together slightly, but she doesn’t say anything—just lets you speak. You take a steadying breath. “My family never fought for me,” you say, the words bitter even now. “They let me go without a second thought. And I told myself I’d never let that happen again—that I’d never let someone make me feel like I wasn’t worth holding on to.” Alexia’s face crumples slightly, but you push forward before she can interrupt. “But then there was you.” You shake your head, jaw clenching. “And I thought—if anyone was going to fight for me, it would be you.” Alexia exhales sharply, looking like she’s about to break apart right in front of you. Your voice doesn’t waver. “But you didn’t.”

Alexia swallows hard. “I know.”

You let out a breath, looking away, blinking against the sting behind your eyes. “And I know I probably overreacted. Because it is a trigger, and I know that wasn’t fair to you, but Alexia—” You finally meet her gaze again, and this time, you don’t hold back. “You embarrassed me. You made me feel small in front of everyone, in front of your teammates, your friends. And it felt like I was nothing to you.”

Alexia flinches, like the words physically hit her. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Just breathes through the weight of it all. Then softly, painfully, “I’m so sorry.”

The words aren’t defensive. They aren’t trying to justify anything. They’re just real. Raw. Honest. And maybe that’s why, for the first time since this all started you don’t immediately push her away. Use your defence mechanism. But you don’t let her back in either. Not yet. Not until you know if she’s really what you want, you still owed her that.

Alexia doesn’t let the silence settle for long. She steps closer—not enough to invade your space, but enough to make it clear she’s not letting this go.  

“I know I hurt you,” she says, voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “And I know I can’t take that back. But I swear to you, if I could go back, if I could do it all differently, I would. I would have sat you down and had the conversation laid it all out”

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms. “But you can’t.”  

Alexia nods. “I can’t. But I can promise you. That I won’t ever make you feel like that again.”  

Your jaw tightens. “And how am I supposed to believe that?”  

Alexia’s eyes search yours. “Let me show you.” You hesitate. Because you want to believe her. You want to let her in again.

She seems to realize this, because she doesn’t push further. Instead, she exhales, nodding to herself, like she’s already made up her mind.  

“I’ll keep trying,” she says quietly. “Even if it takes as long as you need.” You don’t doubt that she means it.

“Maybe we should have that conversation” You speak her eyes meeting yours a glimpse of that sparkle coming back. “Not here obviously”

Alexia’s lips press together, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she nods.  

“Okay,” she says softly. “Not here.”  

The tension in your shoulders eases just a fraction. You’re not ready to dive into it all right now, not when the weight of the past weeks still lingers between you, but the fact that she’s willing to have the conversation—that she’s not running from it this time—means something.  

Alexia doesn’t push for more. She just lets the moment sit, lets you decide what comes next. “You were wrong” you mused, “In how you handled it at the beginning but i should of handled it better to”

Alexia looked to her, “Never think it was easy for me, walking away. Because it wasn’t, it was hell, I hated every second knowing i’d hurt you”

Your shoulders dropped as your whole being softened, you slipped a hand to her waist testing the waters and when she didn’t recoil you let it carry on its journey until both arms were around her waist your head on her collarbone. Her lips found your forehead a hand on the back of your head the other around your back and you melted into her, you truly had missed the peace you felt with her.

--

Let me know what else you want to see from these two

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Are LaDS Men V!rg!n Pre-Relationship with MC in LaDS present timeline?

Note: This is a personal take and observation in the LaDS men memories, short stories, phone call, messages, and etc. Nothing is confirmed by Infold and I maybe wrong/missed something from their memories. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Zayne - Yes

This is easy and Zayne confirms it himself. He mentioned that MC is his only experience. Although they are not romantically involve when they were still kids, (I strongly stress on this one as some creep send an anon message to me before that it is creepy to think that they have relationship pre-LaDS present timeline. Well They are not in a relationship. So hold your horses) I feel like he is strongly bound to her emotionally.

The need to protect her is strongly etched to him. Remember the wonderer attack when they are still kids?(Source: Nostalgic Sweetness) He wanted to cheer her up by freezing her melted popsicle. It maybe a crush or puppy love (whatever you wanted to call it) But this is his pure affection towards MC and he take it until he is an adult.

By the time they are reunited, they were awkward with each other but MC is the first one to show affection. She told him to not disappear again and constantly look up for him. I firmly believe that MC has crush with Zayne too because she remembers him well even with a blotchy memory.

Xavier - NO!!!

Before you kill me, just hear me out. Xavier's age is virtually unknown. For one, they never revealed it and two, Jeremiah was even uncomfortable about the topic of Xavier's age (source: Celestial Message). But who do I think he is been with? I Highly suspect that it is MC herself.

So how is his age and MC been related on him not to be a virgin, you say? Think about it this way, back when they Philos, it seems like (I feel like) he was already in a relationship with MC. That star ornament that MC is bothered about was from her (again not confirmed). And this previous/forgotten lifetime (by MC) they have already done it. Why else will he be so comfortable having very spicy and intimate time with her?

One of also the indication of them being intimate in the previous life was his being territorial with MC. He sometimes get a bit of Yandere vibe (I not really sure it its the correct type of dere to label him) but he kinds of a little bit rough when handling people who got overly close to MC. (Source: Myth and Celestial Message.)

Among all the LaDS men, he and Sylus shows sign in knowing what to do during the intimate moments.

Rafayel - Yes

Despite his flirty and confident demeanor, this baby is really a big baby! Don't get me wrong, he is not that innocent, he knows the deed (Source: gem Affection, Omnipotent perception, Your Fragrance, and Ebb and Flow) But he does not do the did, at least not yet.

Unlike Zayne and MC, who clearly hinted spending the night together (Source: Business Trip, Snowy Serenity, Hidden Motive and Moonlit Dream) Rafayel and MC after the kindled moment seems to be sleeping apart or Rafayel was out of the room or was fully dressed already (source: before Sunrise)

Some may argue that they already did it on "Gem Affection", they perhaps did, but what I'm infinitely having a debate with myself is, how Rafayel is kinda Distant again by "Into the Canvas". I don't mean distant physically, but him and MC is still do not seem in a relationship. They do not communicate well to establish plans in meeting up and he was just kinda following her around.

In the "Tailwag Moment" he was shocked and shy when he nuzzles MC. True it was kinda heated, but if you are already physically intimate with someone (specially guys) the awkward moment and hesitation to touch your lover disappears.

I also don't believe that Rafayel is a friends-with-benefit type of guy. This man is so devoted to MC and search for her when she disappears.

Sylus - Not Sure

Since Sylus was still fairly new compared to the other men, I do not have a strong assumption on whether he is a virgin or not. But if you ask how I personally feel about him, I will say yes, he is a virgin.

From here on out is just assumptions base on his current known memories.

Despite being rough and how he manhandles MC, he is actually giving me an Edward Cullen Vibe (OLD SCHOOL VIBE) Oh my gosh! I am old. Like Edward, Sylus have some heated moments with MC (mainly on Secret Times). Yes they are spicy, but it never really hinted that they pass more than heated make out.

We are also yet to see him kiss MC on the lips. And although, he already kiss her in the head, this is after he gave her a ring. (Thinking about a Victorian Type of Courting) He take her to dates, bring her food, give her flowers, and going on rides. I applaud Infold for creating Sylus as a guy who is mostly rough but he definitely have a sweet side.

He worries about MC, hum while cooking, and taking selfies with her.

I have mentioned this before in my previous entry, But Sylus never inappropriately touch MC. True he like to carry MC but never lays a hand in any parts of her other than her wrist. He also doesn't initiate her or gauge her into touching him.

His relationship with MC is Definitely HOT but not yet intimate.

As for previous partners, I don't think he have any as he is looking for MC as well.

[spidybaby]

Ladyyyy✨ You can't just leave us like that after that amazing angst😭😭😭 can you do a part 2, pls? Like what happens after that? How does he react? What about Aurora and his family? Can we see Reader moving on? They end up being strangers? Reader can't forgive that😭😭😭

Take care of yourself, hope you have a great day!🌻🫶🏻

Seat 332 | Part Two

Summary: The time apart and the difference between his past life and his present makes Gavi realize that he lost.

Warnings: cursing.

Part one

That was your seat. He knows it, his family knows it, and even his friends. Why was she in your seat?

Pablo's eyes move from you and to Antonella and back to you. He even stopped clapping. You are looking at the back of Antonella's head.

He asked Aurora to keep that seat empty in case you came to see him. Anto was waving at him with a smile on her face.

"Venga Gavi!" Balde says, smiling at him at hugging him. "Vamoooos!" He yells.

Gavi is being moved by Cubarsi and Balde, who grab his arms and pull him to the chanting group of fans.

He turns for a few seconds, smiling at the feeling of being back. Soon, that's overturned by the feeling of worry when he doesn't see you standing at the entrance of the palco.

"Wait, guys." He tries to free himself. "Wait, I need to go."

He pulls stronger and free himself. He walks quickly to the entrance, but in the way he finds Iñigo's arms.

"Venga, Chaval!" Iñigo smiles as he grabs Gavi in his arms. He's strong enough to carry Gavi back into the chanting group.

"Madridista el que no salte." They all yell in catalan, jumping and being happy.

Gavi gives up, he won't be able to free himself from his friends. He will call you as soon as he's done with it.

The celebration goes on for a few minutes. The social media team asks for him to greet his family and friends on the field for content on his docuseries on the new barca app.

He can't help but miss you during that greeting. You were a complementary piece on his recovery. You were the missing piece now.

He's awkward when he's with Anto. If someone had told him that he would be giving empty kisses to the girl he promised himself to be different. He wouldn't have believed it.

Once he is back in the dressing room, he takes the pictures the social media girl asks for. He showers quickly and runs to where his family is waiting for him.

"I just need to make a call, go on, and go back to my place." He says to his parents. "Here's the key. Just give me a couple minutes."

"I'll wait with you." Antonella says.

"No!" Lift his head up. "I mean, you don't have to wait. Help me with everything at home, please." He smiles.

She nods, going back to his parents and telling them that she will help them at home while Aurora stays with Gavi.

"Me cago en la puta." He says, not finding his phone.

"Pablo, what are you doing?" Aurora asks, watching him being all desperate.

He throws his toiletry bag on the seat of his car. He's stressed. "Give me your phone." He orders.

Aurora shakes her head no. Crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Aurora, I'm not playing." He says. "Give me the damn phone."

"What for?" She asks, mad at his brother's attitude. "Who's that important for you to be acting this way?"

"I need to call Y/n." He whines. "Please."

Aurora sighs. "Pablo, let's go home. Antonella and everybody else is waiting."

"Qué me importa un cajaro, Aurora." He yells. "I need to call her."

Aurora knows that if he does that, then it will become a big problem. Pablo will need to explain why he was with Antonella and you at the same time.

"Why don't you calm down and call her tomorrow?" She asks. "She's mad, and she won't answer like that."

He knows that you won't answer him in that state, but he also wants to know you are okay. He needs to explain to you that he did save the seat for you.

That's your seat.

Antonella didn't have any business seating there.

"Fine." He says, getting in the car.

Even if he wants to, his mind is full of worry about you. He can't focus on the conversations without disassociate after a few words.

Aurora excused him, saying it was just him being tired and that he had run out of battery after waiting for this game for so long.

The night wasn't easy. Aurora took his phone and asked him to wait. He needs to respect the fact that Antonella was in the house.

He asked Antonella to join Aurora in her room for the night. He was tired and didn't feel like talking or being with anyone.

He looked over at the clock every five minutes. The hours felt eternal. Why can't the time go faster?

You usually wake up at seven to go to the club and play tennis. He wants to call you before that. He tried to call you, and the first two calls went to voice mail.

The third time is a charm, he thinks, but it hit him with a message. He frowns. Did your phone die?

He googles what that message means because you had a voice recording for your voice mail. He sweats cold when he discovers that you blocked his number for calls and texts.

He wakes up, finding Aurora in the kitchen. "Hey, I need your phone." He says, not wanting to waste time.

"Pablo, what for?" She asks, still a little bit sleepy.

"Y/n is not answering my calls, I need to call her from your phone."

Aurora roll her eyes, she's tired of all this hit and run you two have. If it's not you complaining that Pablo is ghosting you, it's him complaining that you don't answer.

"No!" She says, passing away from him.

Pablo is quick and grabs his arm. "What do you mean no?"

She removes Gavi's arm. Looking at him like he's asking something crazy. "Pablo, I'm done with this situation. You tell me that you want to be with Antonella, but then you tell me that you need to contact Y/n. What are you playing, Gavi?"

She's not wrong, Gavi told her that he's done with Y/n, ask Aurora to help him with Antonella. Then he goes and says he needs you and that he needs to help her reconnect with you.

"I'm done with this stupid situation you got yourself into." She says. "If you want to call Y/n, then find other ways, but my phone is not up for use."

Pablo is left alone in the kitchen. The question that Aurora made him is still ringing in his head.

"What game are you playing, Gavi?"

fcbarcelona

Liked by pedri, antogmz and 1,284,495 others

fcbarcelona Everybody stay calm, it's happening 😱

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aurorapaezg ❤️

antogmz 🥺❤️

gavixpedri tell me it's all a lie 😭😭😭

gavirafan06 @gavixpedri what's happening? 🤨

gavixpedri @gavirafan06 barca admin posted a video of gavi and this girl kissing 🙃

gavimylover so he's not y/n's boyfriend?

barcam3ssi10 I would have swear they were together 🤨 people on x were saying they saw them holding hand in Barcelona

Pedri Bienvenido hermano 💪🏻

randomuser1 I come to the comments and see his fans fighting over who's the girlfriend and who's the other girl 😭😭😭 why are we so unserious?

randomuser2 like fr who tf is hotter? That's the winner

- A month after Gavi's return -

fcbarcelona

Liked by antogmz, mario_rzs and 1,093,834 others

fcbarcelona Another day, another Gavi pic 📸

View all 2,274 comments

antogmz ❤️💪🏻

randomuser83 I wonder if she's the responsible one for him and his ex gf break up🤔

antoxgavi @randomuser83 she's not, that girl was Gavi's friend

ansucheesefan but Y/n follows her, so I don't think they are beefing if they follow each others

gavirafan06 he has the girlfriend glow up 🤩

antofan1 he definitely has that glow 🥺🥰

pedrimasiafan I think it's sweat 👀

randomuser1 why are his fans fighting in the comments over his love life again 😭😭😭 we are so unserious I can't

- Two months after Gavi's return -

yourusername

Liked by aurorapaezg, mario_rzs and 8,737 others

yourusername ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

View all 238 comments

aurorapaezg I miss you so much 🥺❤️

camihdz Miss you 🙃

yourusername open the door 👀❤️

gavifan2 why don't you answer Aurora's comment?

aurorafan1 I miss you and Aurora 😔💔

mario_rzs send me the pics maybe?

yourusername sir, I don't know you 😔

aurorapaezfan why is she answering everybody's comment but Aurora's? 😭😭😭

- Three months after Gavi's return -

yourusername

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yourusername I'm working late, cause I have finals (send help)

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aurorabelen9 Te extraño, mi niña❤️ liked by author

aurorafan1 I can't 😭 she's the only Gavira that Y/n follows

gavimylover miss seeing y/n with the paez gavira family 😔💔

antoxgavi why did you unfollow Anto and Aurora? You just create drama by doing that

pedrixgavifan stop asking her about Gavi or his family 😒 if she's not friends with them, then it's her business liked by author

antoxgavi @pedrixgavifan well she used to post a ton with them and now she expects people to not care?

lamasiafan6 what college is she on? Cause why are the skeletons on the gym? 💀

Comments on this post have been limited.

"Let's go play some tennis." You say to your friend Camila.

You two walk to the tennis field, preparing the balls and everything for the small match. You missed playing tennis.

Since you stopped having contact with Gavi, you started doing the activities you left behind. You only had time to play tennis early in the morning because he always came after training and you needed to be there for him.

You stopped going out with your friends because he was over at your house and you wanted to spend all night with him.

Then, with his injury, you became a big help to his parents. When they needed to go back to Sevilla, you took care of Pablo.

Only leaving his side to go to class or to study for your tests. You were there for him in every step of the way.

You can't really put the blame on Pablo. He was right, he never asked you to do all that.

He never asked you to stop going out.

He never asked you to stop playing your favorite sport.

He never asked you to play nurse Nancy and help him.

He never asked you to help him with his recovery exercise.

You did it all by heart.

And that was something you won't regret. You did it without looking for a reward or a prize. You did it because you loved him, and you prioritized him when he needed you the most.

You were slowly recovering your life. You didn't depend on anyone, you don't wait on others, you care about yourself and other but always putting you first.

You can't deny that the fact that your so called friends decided to take sides on the situation between Pablo and you, it hurted you.

You noticed that only Mario was your friend. He told you that he wasn't going to take sides and that he was there for you whenever you needed to.

You are grateful Camila never left you. She knew Pablo since school, but she was your friend. Even tho if Pablo comes to her, she wouldn't ignore it.

What hurt you the most was that Aurora lied to you. She could have told you the truth, even if that was going to hurt you.

You asked her, and she chose to act like nothing happened. She expected you to go to the dinner and see for yourself that he was with someone.

You didn't fight. You didn't argue. You just left her alone. She commented on your posts and answered your Insta stories.

You didn't even open her past messages. You made it silently clear that you weren't going to engage on anything that had to do with her.

Belen and Pablo sir were other story. They called you and asked you if you were okay because you didn't come to the game.

You explain to them that you and Pablo weren't together anymore and that you don't want his girlfriend to feel weird about your presence.

They told you that no matter if you and Pablo were together, you were welcome to come and visit them, to come for lunch, dinner, or any kind of meal you want.

Belen asked you if you were coming to see her, you did. When Gavi was training and Aurora was in Sevilla. You visit her, telling her that you will be one call away.

You miss them. They were the closest thing to a family. And you'll miss having them around, hearing their jokes, their company.

You can't change what Gavi did. Nor you want to do it. You just hate to lose so much as a consequence of him.

yourusername has added to their story

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You noticed Aurora send you a dm. You open it just because.

You close the app, leaving her on read. You want to answer her and make things they way they used to, but you hate liars, and she was one.

It took you a lot of mind and thinking to finally come around the idea of losing the life you thought you'll always have.

It was your fault for thinking that something with no label would end up in a fairy tale story with a happy ending.

"Hey, let's go get sushi. It's on me." You smile at Cami.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

"Do you want to see a movie?" Antonella asks Pablo.

They were coming back from a "date night" as she called. But to Gavi, it was more like another dinner he spent watching his phone and hearing about Antonella's friends.

"I want to see this movie that's on Netflix." She smiles. "It's called Bride Wars."

Pablo turns his head to her. He knows that movie, maybe a little too well.

"I mean, if you want." He shrugged, laying down on the couch.

Anto takes the opportunity and lays down with him. He moves a little, uncomfortable with the closeness.

He likes the movie, he can't even deny it. It's your favorite movie. You two would watch it a lot during his recovery.

You know the funny parts, you quote the dialogue and even once mentioned that you would throw him a party like the Bachelorette party they have.

"You don't alter the Vera Wang to fit you. You alter yourself to fit Vera." He says, chuckling at that part.

"Do you know the movie?" Antonella says, pausing it.

He nods. "I mean, it's a movie." He says like it's obvious.

"Oh, I know." She giggles. "But it's a girls movie."

He frowns, not understanding what she meant. "No, it's not." He scuffs. "Plus, it's funny because she was eating butter from all around the world."

"It's a romcom, Gavi." She says, obnoxious tone. "Romcoms are for girls. Just like fast and furious is for boys."

He rolls his eyes at her. Grabbing the remote and pressing play again. He is going to enjoy the rest of it.

Antonella knows she fucked up. When Gavi sees or she does something he doesn't like. He gives her the silent treatment.

That makes her nervous, because all she wants is for him to be fine and happy with her. "Do you want me to make dinner?" She asks.

Gavi doesn't answer, he keeps watching the movie. She waits a few minutes and asks again.

"I can make you a sandwich, would you like that?"

He sighs, looking at her. "Can you make me a grilled cheese?" He asks.

Antonella nods excited, she gets up and walks to the kitchen, ready to prepare his sandwich. If only she knew that it was because of him that he had asked that.

< "Pablo, please calm down." You say, trying to find a way of calming him down.

Pablo was having a panic attack from the pain he's feeling. Even if his surgery was two weeks ago, he made a bad move with his leg and provoked a strong pain.

"I don't want to feel this way anymore." He says, sobbing. "Make it stop." He yells.

You don't know what to do. Aurora and Belen were outside, and you don't know how to deal with this alone. You never had one nor did any close friend or family member, so you are lost.

"Pablito, mirame." You grab his wet cheeks. "Can you breathe with me?" You press a little more onto his cheeks to get his attention.

You began doing these breathing exercises. Counting for him to breathe and exhale. You do different rounds of this in order for him to calm down.

Once he's calmer, you grab his pain meds and pass him the water. "Drink this, vida." You say, grabbing the glass of water and grabbing the straw, placing it to his lips.

His puffy eyes and red cheeks make him look like a kid. He's trying not to cry again. The effects of the strong medicine were quick to ease the pain he was feeling.

"I'm sorry, Pablo." You say, leaving the glass back on the nightstand, combing his hair. "I don't know how to take your pain away." You confess. "But I'm here for you, and I won't leave you alone."

He grabs your hand, placing it against his hot cheek. You know it his way of saying thank you. He's not the best at expressing his emotions, and this little acts of love are for him a way of showing that he's thankful when words are not coming out.

You spend another moment combing his hair. You were quiet, listening to the sobs that he still makes from how hard he was crying.

You bring your intertwine hands to your mouth, leaving a kiss on his skin. He smiles a little. "Don't cry, mi amor." You say sweetly. It's like talking to a little child. "I'm going to bring you your favorite pasta. Your mom made it for you because she knows that with a little bit, you would feel good." You tell him.

He shakes his head no, the grip on your hand becomes stronger. He pouts while looking at you with those puppy eyes you can't say no to.

"Amor, you need your medicine." You explain to him. "I'll just grab us a plate of pasta, and I'll be back. Five minutes."

"I-" He tries to say, being interrupted by a sob. "I don't want pasta."

You smile at him. "Do you want me to make you a sandwich?" You ask, knowing that he has to take another dosis of medicine and that he needs to eat before doing so. "I can you make an amazing grilled cheese."

He looks at you with doubt, but after a moment, he agrees. Kissing your hand and letting it go. You promise that you will be as quick as possible.

You prepared two sandwiches, one for you and one for him. You side his food with some fruit and some juice. He loves juice.

You can say that you beat your own speed record because in no time you were back in the room with him.

"I got you your favorite juice, Pablito." You say, placing the tray in front of him. "And I just remembered that Bride Wars it's still available." You bop his nose, making him smile.

You take a look at his face, the way his eyes are shining, and the way he's calmer and relaxed, demeanor gives you peace.

"Mirame." You say, grabbing his cheeks and caressing his skin. "I know it's hard, amor. But I'm here for you in every step of the way." You kiss the top of his nose.

You sea next to him in bed, always keeping a distance because you were afraid of hurting you. You eat in silence because of the movie.

"Can you get me napkin or a piece of paper?" He asks, making you nod.

You get up and walk to the bathroom, grabbing some paper because it is quicker than going into the kitchen.

"You don't alter the Vera Wang to fit you." You say at the same time as the movie dialogue. "You alter yourself to fit Vera." You imitates the voice.

"What to boys learn in school?" He finishes the dialogue, smiling.

You pass him the paper, fixing a string of hair on the way. You feel better now that he is feeling no pain and is eating. >

He goes out of this trance when Antonella places the plates in front of him. The sandwich looks weird to say the least.

"I tried, okay." She says, giggling. "Don't judge me, try it."

He does it, he takes a bite of the sandwich. "I mean, it's something." He smiles at her.

He doesn't want to make her feel bad, so he eats it all. Drinking the disgusting so-called juice she did.

"I love spending time with you." She says, kissing his lips. "Love you."

He half smiles. "Thank you." He says, patting her head. "Let's keep watching, I love that part."

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

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"Do you want to try this?" You ask your cousin.

You two were having lunch with her. You love spending time with your family now that you are on vacations.

You came back to Sevilla, changing the routine a little bit. You used to stay in Barcelona because Gavi wanted you there.

And of course you chose to stay with him while everybody else was on vacations. You were waiting for him to come back from training.

You two finish your meals, happy that you got to spend time together and got to talk about all the things you needed to talk about.

You two walk back to your place, since you guys were neighbors it was funny to go everywhere together.

"Okay, see you later." You say, leaving your cousins at the door of the house.

You enter your home, lay on the couch and turn the TV on. You were too full to mind anything else.

After an hour and a quick nap, you hear the doorbell, you call your mom, telling her that you are opening the door. When you do, you find someone you didn't want to see.

"Aurora, hi." You say with a weird smile you face. "How are you?"

"I'm good, been better." She says. "I was worried about you." She confess.

You frown. "About me?" You ask. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks you back, looking at you like you just say something illogical. "Y/n, you don't answer my text, you don't answer my calls, you even unfollow me from social media." She says, naming all the things you stopped doing. "It's like I'm not even your friend anymore."

She has one hand on your arm, making the scene look a lot more dramatic than what it is. It feels like one of those simulations.

You look at her directly in the eyes. Trying to find out what she was asking was with concern or just because.

"Aurora," you say, grabbing her arm and moving it away from you. "You are not my friend."

She blinks a couple of times, confused about your reaction. She knows she was a little bit wrong by sticking to Pablo and Antonella, but she was his sister.

"What?" She asks, confused. "Y/n, that's not true. I'm your friend."

You shake your head lightly. You can't even believe that she thinks she's your friend after everything she did.

"I asked you if Pablo was seeing someone." You remind her. "And what did you do? You lie to me."

"Y/n, that's not -"

"That's not true?" You ask, scuffing. "Aurora, you knew he was seeing her. You knew Pablo had other intentions with her, and what did you do? You lied."

She shakes her head. "That's not what happened." She tries to explain.

"You knew I loved Pablo." You remind her. "When you asked me what my feelings were about your brother, I told you I loved him."

"Y/n, I -"

"You knew, and you chose to lie to me."

She sighs, "You have everything mixed."

"No." You say, stern tone. "I have my facts straight. The only thing I got mixed was that I thought you were my friend. You are not, so leave me alone!"

You close the door of your house without caring that you're literally closing the door on her face. She didn't care about you, and you don't care about her at all.

You want to open the door and ask her for forgiveness because you closed the door on her face, but you won't do it.

You have to remember that Aurora chose to lie to you. She could've been honest, you would've prefer that.

Instead, she knew Pablo didn't want you at the dinner. She knew Pablo had her over. She knew that girl was in his life.

You take a deep breath and walk to your room, wanting you to go back to sleep and forget that you have to deal with the broken pieces that he left.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

"What do you mean you can't keep seeing me?" Antonella yelled. "Pablo, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong, Anto." She sighs, tired of her yelling.

"No, something got to be wrong." She says, angry. "Because we were fine a few days ago."

He scuffs. "You were fine, but we?"

"I can't, Pablo." She says, exasperated. "I want us to work, but you won't go past your old habits."

He shakes his head. "That why I'm telling you that I don't want to see you."

Antonella cursed at him. Grabbing her stuff and walking out of his room while slamming the door.

He's tired, very tired.

But he's free from that burden.

He took his free days and traveled to Sevilla to be done with whatever his relationship with Antonella was.

He feels better now that he's free to finally go look for you. He's ready to be with you, and he hopes that you understand that he was confused.

His parents sat him down and scolded him about what he did to you. He was raised in a different way.

His father had a long talk with him days after, about how it was not okay to play with the girls feelings.

< "If you ever become a dad, you would kill the guy who dared to treat your daughter they way you treaded Y/n. And that says a lot about you." >

That left Pablo with a bitter aftertaste. He never thinks about becoming a dad, but he knows that if that ever happens he would go to war for his kids.

And what can he expect? If a guy ever treats his daughter in that way, he can't even complain. He would be complaining over something he said nobody should mind about.

Mario invited him to a party, it was his annual vacation party. Gavi lost the last two because of games he had.

He showered and got dressed. His way of hiding from people outside of his circle is going with a bucket hat and some glasses.

He picked his phone from the nightstand and grabbed his keys, leaving to his friends house.

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You and your friends were pre gaming before going to Mario's party. You were so excited to finally be out and enjoying the time you lost.

But as your Abu says, even the saints cry over the lost time.

So, it's better to start to get it, then lose it by being all sad at home. And that's exactly what you friends will helped you about.

After about an hour or so, you find that it's time to go to the party. You check yourself in the mirror, detailing the things that needed it.

Your friend was the designated driver so you can drink and have fun. You are usually the designated one, but today is your day, so you don't worry about it.

When you got there, you went straight to Mario. He was an amazing friend and you love him and appreciate him with all your heart.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"When have I ever said no to a party?" You ask.

"Good point." He laughs. "Let's go take some shots." He grabs your hand and moves you with him inside the house.

You take not only one run but three. You grab a bottle of water, not wanting to get all bad before even enjoying for a little bit.

You walk over to your friend, she was talking with someone. You say hi and introduce yourself.

"This is Jaime." Your friend says. "He's my friend, and he's visiting Sevilla."

"That's amazing. Are you enjoying it?" You ask.

"Yes, don't get me wrong, I'm loving Sevilla, but Barcelona has its special thing."

"Oh, you are from Barcelona?" You ask excited. "I study college there."

You two make conversation around the fact that you two were living in Barcelona and you two go to college there.

"I'm going to go for a drink, but have so much fun and if you need anything we are going to be here." You smile at him.

You walk back into the house. You go to the bar table and grab something to drink now that your water is done.

You grab your favorite liquor and add some mixer. You turn back to the door, but you end throwing your drink all over someone.

"Joder, mi puta madre."

You lift your head, finding those puppy eyes. "Pablo," you say. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

He looks at you, surprised. He never thought he would find you at Mario's party. He tries to say something but his mouth is just open.

You want to laugh, he's dumb sometimes. You grab his arm, moving him to the side and take his glasses.

You don't even understand why you are acting this way. You should be hitting him with your heel or serving more into your cup and throwing it to his face.

But no.

You place the now dry glases back into his face. "Sorry, have a nice night." You say, leaving him there.

You don't care that he's there. You already made yourself to the idea that you two live in the same area, you have friends in common, you have a whole history together.

You aren't going to run. If he is uncomfortable, then there's the door. You already give enough care to him thar you ran out of it.

You go back to your friends with your almost to the half drink. You were going to have an amazing night with your friends, and that's all that matters.

After a few hours of you and your friends having all the fun. You danced with Mario, you danced with Javier and even danced with someone's dad who was at the party.

"I'll go to the bathroom." You say, smiling at your friends. "Don't move." You point at them.

You walk inside the house, find the bathroom, and go inside. You hear someone knocking on the door. You shrug, applying your lip oil and taking your time.

You open the door finding Gavi. He was waiting for you. "It's free now, calm down." You laugh.

You feel him grabbing your wrist. "Can we talk?"

You sigh, it really has to happen during a party?

You nod, pulling him to the front yard. There was almost no one there. It was barely any noise and people were minding their business.

You free yourself from his hold, looking at him and letting him talk. He's the one who wanted to talk, then he can do it.

"How are you?" He asks.

You roll your eyes. Was he even real?

"Pablo, go to the point." You say. "I'm not in for formalities, I'm good. Thank you."

"Okay, sorry." He lift his hands. "I want to tell you that I'm sorry that I didn't call after what happened at the game or before that game."

You stayed quiet and sp he did.

"Okay." You smile. "Thank you, now if this is all." You say, about to go away but he grabbed your arms.

"Y/n." He says, pouting. "I say I'm sorry."

"Okay?" You giggle. "I said thank you. Did you not hear me?"

He was confused.

Why didn't you care?

"I want to tell you that I let others' opinions got to me, I'm really sorry that I hurted you and told you all those things. I didn't lie. I do like you."

You smile, nodding.

"And I'm sorry that I ever put you in second place. I thought that with Antonella, I was going to get something that I never got. You are the only one for me. You are the only one who make me feel this way."

"I was not the only one, Pablo." You say. "You had other options, and you chose her before me, even tho you say I'm the only one."

You don't feel like being quiet and letting him think that it was only the side he saw the correct one, it was wrong.

"And I don't know what you want me to tell you. If you didn't find what you wanted to find and you are not happy, I'm sorry, but you are an adult, and your actions have consequences."

He blinks a few times, he's confused about why you are not understanding his point.

"I hope you find that one thing that you are looking for, I really do." You say.

You walk away from him, ready to move on with your life, but his grip on your wrist stops you.

"Y/n, I left Antonella."

You frown. "I'm sorry that it didn't work." You say.

"No, Y/n!" He says this time louder. "I'm telling you thar I left her. We can now be together."

You look at him, you focus on his features. The bushy eyebrow, he upper dimple, his big eyes, that green undertone.

You have to do something. You grab his cheeks, your lips finding his. His hands find your waist, he grips your skin.

You grab his hands, moving them away from you. With this you earn a confused look, he's not understanding what is going on.

You don't waste time and separate from him.

Your eyes found his.

You know what you have to say.

"I'm sorry, but I had to do that." You say.

"What?" He asks, confused. "Why?"

"I needed to confirm that I don't feel anything."

Pablo can't even digest your words. Why would you even do that when he just told you that he wants to be with you?

What did you even mean when you say you don't feel the same way about him? Is this a joke?

"You don't?"

You shake your head no, internally screaming from happiness that the war is finally over.

"Pablo, you got yourself a girl whose only purpose was to be your girlfriend when I was there basically begging for you to give it to me, and now you tell me that it didn't work and let's just forget and move on?" You ask.

"I didn't want to lose you if something came out wrong." He whines.

"Gavi, we had so many misunderstandings. So many moments where you left my house mad or I left yours in a fury. Moments were we both question if what we had was worth it." You remind him. "And none of that ever made me leave. Because I was sure that I loved you, but you come here and told me that you needed someone else to be sure that you love me?" You scuff. "Pablo, that's not love."

"But, I explained everything to you." He says. "I told you I left whatever I had with her and that I regret ever treating you the way I did."

Gavi shakes his head, he's not understanding why anything is going the way he ever imagined it.

Why are you being so difficult?

"Okay." You smile, shrugging.

"Y/n, que he dejado a Anto." He repeats. (I broke up with Anto)

You take a few steps closer. "Gavi," you call his attention. "Did I ask you to do that?"

That's when it hit him. You weren't going to be back with him.

You walk back into the house, ready to enjoy the rest of the night and not think about anything. You are finally free.

Your friends and you decide that you were finishing the night at home. With a bottle of some liquor and a truth or dare game.

Before leaving, you went to say goodbye to Mario. Thanking him for inviting you. You told him that you were finishing at home because it was safer.

"Oye, Y/n!" You hear someone calling you.

You turn, seeing Jaime walking over to you.

"Hola, having fun?" You ask.

"Mucha." He laughs, making you laugh with him. "Hey, want to take a shot?"

You pout. "I'm leaving, but it was really good meeting you, hope I see you around before you leave."

He nods, giving you a hug. "Can I have your Instagram?"

You nod, asking him to hand you his phone. You type your username and pass him the phone.

He checks it, saying thank you to you.

"Oh, shoot." He says. "You know the 6 from Barcelona?" He asks, impressed.

You chuckle. "Oh, Pablo?" You ask. "He's just somebody that I used to know."

"Nice." He smiles. "I followed you. I hope you follow me back so we can chat." He winks, waving at you and going back to the party.

You go to your group, helping one of your friends with her bag. You stopped at the liquor store, getting something for the night.

You all change into your pijamas and get unready, taking you makeup and jewelry off.

You do a few rounds off truth or drink, if you may say. And everybody was already a little too drunk.

"Okay, Y/n, your turn." Karla says. "Let me think."

They all think for a moment. "Oh, I know, Luisa says." Making you and everybody curious. "Do you still love Pa-?"

They all hit Luis in the arm or head. Making you laugh.

"Qué si-" You start. "Qué si me gusta Pablo?" You ask back. She nods. "Que va, ya no siento nada por él. Eso es cosa del pasado." You smile. (If I still love Pablo? No, I don't feel anything for him. That's in the past.)

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl @messi88 @electrobutterfly @dessxoxsworld @jsprien213 @alexis1taylorr @pabl0andm3 @yaxkinnn @htpssgavi @emmdreams

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore