#i can do fluff

[normaltothemax]

simplicity - muse a playfully runs their finger along the bridge of muse b’s nose in one swift motion.

The music surrounds him, envelops him in its warm embrace. He's been quietly plucking away for around an hour, now, lost in the song he's currently trying to teach himself. Viejita's curled up on the couch cushion to his left, snoring softly. So absorbed in the notes, the positioning of his fingers, in how content he feels, he doesn't even hear Hal come in.

The finger stroking along the bridge of his nose catches him by surprise. Enough so that he jumps, one hand snapping out to harshly, tightly, grab the wrist of the offending hand. It's barely half a second later that he looks up, sees who's actually standing in front of him.

His grip loosens.

"Lo siento," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip of Hal's finger in apology. "Didn't hear y' come in. What're y' doin' here, darlin'?"

@winterfollows

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that percy and annabeth have a relationship contract they made after they got together once the war came to pass. they outlined it on paper in percy's bedroom. typed up a final draft using sally's laptop. and printed out and laminated it at the local library on their two month anniversary. and they abide by it like it's the law.

[ohtobeleah]

NAV!!! Oh my gosh this is one of my guilty pleasure re-reads. We love her so much! So soft & fluffy!

Nav // Mickey Garcia

Summary: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia has been keeping a secret, or three, from his new found family. After finding out he’d been transferred to North Island on a more permanent basis—he thinks now is as good a time as any to let the secret out.

Warnings. Believe it or not—this is a fluff piece. Fanboy x female reader. Slight mention of Smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: This weekend we welcomed Rhett Abbott and Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia to the every growing list of fictional men I’d let rail me. This is such a fandom fluff piece, but it’s what you’re getting so either take it or don’t. Idk.

Callsings. Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it. He was simply a nerd. He loved all things Star Wars and Star Trek. He adored Battlestar Galactica and honestly? If it had a Star in the title he was convinced he’d already be obsessed with it if given the chance to binge the series or movie trilogy. He was a Fanboy, so much so his aviation helmet shared the same font as the Star Trek logo. He was obsessed, plain and simple. 

But there was also another thing Mickey Garcia was a huge fan of that earned him his callsign way back in the days of his fighter school training. He’d never forget the first time he heard you say it. Although he carried an encyclopaedic memory around, Mickey swore there was only ever one thing, one person, one gorgeous woman on his mind twenty for seven, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year. 

The love of his life, his best friend (Don't tell Payback), his devoted wife. Mickey was well aware that he belonged in the sky. He’d wanted to be just like his father ever since he knew how to walk. There was never a question surrounding what Mickey Garcia would grow up to be. He spent more time in the sky than he did down on solid ground, that was just something you learnt to live with.

Mickey Garcia was also incredibly mindful of the fact his heart hadnt been to the earth since the first time he kissed you. When you loved him? You had sent it clear out of this world. He’d love you forever, be your devoted husband, lovingly and completely yours forever. 

“Nav and the kiddos settle in alright?” Payback asked as he and Fanboy ran through their pre-flight checks. “Kinda missed her annoying ass.” Fanboy chuckled softly in response, humming at the soft jab his best friend sent his wife. He knew the minor insult held no weight, hell–Payback had been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place. He knew you longer than Mickey and you had even been married for. 

“Only got a few boxes left to unpack.” Mickey explained as he checked all his weapon systems. “But yeah, it feels good to have them here, just not too sure how I'm gonna break it to the rest of the guys.” It wasn't that Mickey didn't want to tell the Dagger Squad, he always had every intention. But he wanted to make sure he could trust these people with his life before letting them into his family. After the events of the uranium mission and having been offered a permanent posting in North Island, Mickey felt the time was right. “Nav’s pretty keen to meet everyone though.”

That you were, so when Mickey mentioned that the gang were all meeting up on Saturday night for dinner and beers at their favourite watering hole, the Hard Deck, and wanted you and the kiddos to come along you were more than ecstatic to finally meet the people who had kept your husband safe. 

“Hey, Miles!” Mickey called out after the five year old who booked it from where he’d placed him down beside the car in the direction of the group of people who looked as if they’d transported into a parallel universe. “Miles! Hey buddy! Slow your roll alright.” Scooping up the tiny version of himself as Miles Garcia giggled at his own antics, Mickey caught sight of his squad. All staring at him wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Fanboy—who’s crotch goblin is that?” Hangman asked as he sneered and pointed at the child who now resided on his fathers hip. Watching as you came out from around the other side of the car with what seemed to be a smaller, very much younger version of the same child wrapped in a baby wrap around your chest. “And who’s this?” 

“Uh—“ Mickey cleared his throat as you made your way to his side, placing a gentle but loving kiss to his cheek before rubbing the small of his back for moral support. “Guys, this here’s my wife, Nav.” Smiling softly, you waved briefly before Mickey went on to introduce your kids. “This is Miles, he’s five and this is Morgan, she’s only—six months.” He hadn’t forgotten, but for a brief moment Mickey had to count with his fingers.

The silence was to be expected as the group of naval aviators who stood before you in the carpark of the Hard Deck Bar took in the new revelations that Fanboy was and had been married with kids the entire time they’d been in North Island. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you all.” You were the first to break the heavy silence. 

“You’re married?” Phoenix asked in disbelief, she was careful not to utter it in a way that you may have taken offense to. 

“You have kids?” Rooster couldn’t stop staring at the five year old in Mickey's arms. He looked so much like his dad it was kinda scary. 

“You had a family this whole time and didn’t tell anyone?” Hangman scoffed, he couldn’t believe it—how could Star Trek over here land a wife and two beautiful children but he couldn’t even get a damn date. “What if something had happened to you?”

“Ruben knew.” Fanboy explained as the group made their way inside, Phoenix instantly filed back to walk with you. She wanted to be the first person to tell you how great a guy your husband was—not that you didn’t already know. “He was my best man.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bob asked the question everyone was asking. It wasn’t a black or white response. But nevertheless Mickey tried his best as Penny pointed them all in the direction of the tables she’d placed together. 

“They mean everything to me, I guess I just wanted to make sure that you guys were all good people, good enough for them.” Although it hurt just the slightest amount, Bob understood. “Don’t tell him I said this but the jury is still out on Hangman—I just didn’t see another viable option of introducing Nav to everyone.” Bob couldn’t help but to laugh as he looked down at the child still in Mickey's arms. “I feel awful for not telling you sooner Bob.” 

“Don’t be, your family’s important, I understand wanting to keep them safe, keep them all to yourself.” 

Fanboy left it at that as he turned his attention back to settling his family down for dinner amongst his friends. Especially keeping an eye on you before settling in beside you. A hand gravitating to your knee under the table as Mickey looked into the wrap—Morgan sleeping soundly against your chest. 

“So Nav, what do you do for a living?” Hangman asked from across the table as you looked over to provide the sandy blonde your utmost attention. 

“I own a small photography business.” You were humble in your talents. “Boudoir mostly.” 

“Say Phoenix? You wanna get in on that action?” Rooster taunted as he popped a few peanuts in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning back on the chair he’d perched himself on across the table from Natasha. “I’ll volunteer as tribute.”

“In your wet dreams Bradshaw—“ Phoenix hissed as she took a sip of her beer. “That’s a pretty dramatic juxtaposition from a naval aviator?” Natasha turned her head back to you, watching as you soothed the little girl who was starting to stir in her wrap. “How’d you actually meet?” 

“The academy—“ Mickey interrupted as Miles got to work colouring with the crayons Payback had asked Penny for when he went to fix up the first round at the bar. Returning with beers and ample colouring supplies for his favourite five year old. “Y/n was in the Navy.” It was yet another revelation the gang had a hard time processing. “Everyone still calls her Nav though, a hard habit to kick.” 

Mickey Garcia wasn’t all that fly with the ladies, he never really had been. He’d had a few girlfriends in his short life but nothing ever lasted long enough for him to start thinking about a future with them, or a family for that matter. 

“Hey Mickey! I got a friend I want you to meet!” Ruben cried out from across the amphitheater. Mickey pried his eyes away from the book he’d been reading for five seconds to turn his head his best friend's way. He’d heard of the girl from across the street, but your paths had never had a chance to cross until now. “This is Y/n, Michelle’s younger sister.” Within the space of five entire seconds, the trajectory of Mickey's life changed forever. He’d never been a huge believer in love at first sight, but as you made yourself known out from behind Rubens shoulder? Mickey knew he was fucked, in over his head. 

“You must be Fanboy?” Mickey stood as you held your hand out to shake his. 

“Who?” He asked, smiling bright as he found himself getting lost in your eyes. Ruben just laughed to himself, knowing from this moment going forward he’d forever be known as the man who introduced Mickey Garcia to the literal love of his life. 

“Fanboy right? Ruben said you’re a big fan of Star Trek—“ Mickey had never laid his eyes on a woman more beautiful than you. 

“Oh he did, did he?” Deadpanning Ruban, Mickey held his glare for a few seconds before turning back to you. “Well uh—yeah I guess that’s me, Mickey Fanboy Garcia.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You had, and you’d loved everything you’d heard so far. So much so you’d begged Ruben to just cut the shit and introduce you already. He’d been dangling a carrot on a stick right in front of you for months.

“All good things I hope?” Mickey raised his eyebrow as you beamed his way, you’d definitely been shaking hands for far too long but you were both past the point of awkwardness, both just seeing who would break first. Smirking at one another like children. 

“Only the very best.” 

“I was uh, a navigation officer, callsign wasn’t all that unique but it did the trick.” You shrugged, looking around at all Mickey's friends as they tried to process everything they were learning. “I understand this is probably a lot for everyone.” 

“It’s not.” Rooster smiled as he looked at Fanboy. There’s been a switch flipped inside the proud mustache having aviator who loved a good Hawaiian shirt. “It just means that Fanboys got a lot more on the line than any of us ever thought.”

“Dadda?” The little boy sitting next to Mickey cooed just loud enough to gain his father’s attention. “I’m hungry—“

“Foods coming bud, here, you wanna sit on dad’s lap so you can tell all dads friends what you wanna be when you grow up?” The brown eyed, dark curly haired boy who looked far too much like Mickey scrambled from the seat he’d been sitting onto into his dads lap. Mickey let out an oof sound when Miles slammed his entire body weight down into his lap. He thought his dad was some kind of superhero who never felt pain or got tired. 

Whenever Mickey was deployed and on a detachment like he’d been on recently, you’d tell Miles that dad was off fighting bad guys and that once he knew everyone was safe and sound—he’d come home. Five year olds were easy to manipulate at bed time if you told them all the right things. 

“Go ahead buddy, tell ‘em what you told me.” Mickey coaxed the information he knew would melt his team's hearts out of his toddler by tickling his sides to invoke a chuckle so pure it even made Hangman smile. 

“I wanna be a superhero and fly planes like my Dadda.” 

“I never thought I’d hear someone say superhero and daddy in the same sentence while referring to Fanboy—“ Coyote snickered in the most wholesome way he could. “You got cute kids man I’ll give ya that.” 

“Nav, you look like you’re still glowing.” Bob mentioned cautiously. “You guys said Morgan’s only six months?” 

“Yeah—the last month and a bit was a little rough with the kiddos back in Miami while Mickey was stationed out here with you guys.” You were just thankful that everything had gone as well as it had and that everyone made it home. “But things are starting to mellow out.” 

“Do you not have paternity leave saved up Fanboy?” Jake Seresin was the last person Mickey ever thought that question would come from. But things weren’t that simple. 

“I’d basically just finished my leave when this assignment came about.” 

“It’s only for six weeks mamma.” Mickey cooed as he kissed your neck tenderly. Looking at you through the mirror of your bathroom as you applied a mud mask—Mickey had the same exact one plastered across his forehead and nose. His T-section. “I’ll be back before you even start to miss me.” 

“I know I know.” You smiled as softly as you possibly could. It wasn’t your husband’s fault he was government property and you knew better than anyone else now the Navy worked. “Still doesn’t change the fact it just be me and the kids—“

“I’ll call my parents and make sure they do a few weekends here and there.” It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would help to patch the leak you knew would spring from time to time. “You know I don’t wanna leave you guys here, my girls and my best guy.” 

“But duty calls right, superman?” You turned in Mickey's embrace, with one move he had you up resting atop the vanity—legs on either side of his hips as he stood better yours. Your arms flung over your husband’s shoulders as he drank in the sight of you. His wife, his beautiful best friend, the mother of his two gorgeous children. 

“Hey you started that shit, it’s not my fault he thinks that.” Mickey beamed, leaning in in search of your lips. Kissing you softly before deepening the moment. Mickey had always been a big fan of self care days, he was adamant that’s how you both ended up with Morgan. “I love you Nav—I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“When do you leave?” It was four words that never got easier to ask, Mickey let the silence linger in the bathroom for a moment—just enjoying the time he had with you. You made things so easy, made it so easy to love you and the kids. Made it so easy for him to love his job despite the distance because even on his worst days Mickey knew he would eventually come home to you and it would be like he never even left. You were far too good for him and he knew that. 

“Thursday.” Mickey said just barely above a whisper as he leaned in to kiss you again. This time more passionate, a lot slower, needier. “Thursday around noon, Payback and I are gonna catch a cab together to the airport, I didn’t want you having to wrangle the kids up just to pile into the car an—“ You cut Mickey off by pulling him closer by the elastic of his boxer briefs, snapping the material back against his lower abdomen when his lips were back on yours. The groan he let slip into your mouth almost made you want to try for another baby. But the two of you were very much happy with the two you already had. 

“Just promise you’ll come home to us?” You knew it was an empty promise, the ever looming possibility that something could go terribly wrong always crossed your mind. But you trusted Ruben to bring your husband home safely every time they flew. 

“Nav my dear, I’m lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Believing me, it was the longest six weeks of my life.” You sighed, running your hand gently over the sleeping baby girl wrapped up on your chest. “But we got through it and now it just feels good to be close again, I’ve heard such good things about all of you so I feel surrounded by family already.” 

Looking around the table as food started to arrived in bits and pieces. Mickey knew he had it all. He had his friends, he had his family and to him that’s all he ever really cared about. Hearing you laugh with Bob and challenging Hangman, watching you bond with Phoenix and click with Rooster. Mickey loved how Coyote sparked a flame inside you he hadn’t seen in years talking about what it was like to be a navigator. You didn’t talk about it all that much these days, you were just happy to be a mum and a devoted wife. But sometimes, every now and again you would miss the ocean. Missed what it was like to roam patrol boats and look longingly to whatever coast you were near. Mickey knew that, but Coyote challenged it. 

He loved his friends but they were now his family. Mickey Garcia had never felt so much love radiating around him as he sat with you and his children amongst the people who carried him throughout the day. His squad, his teammates. 

His family. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

A few months after the shocking discovery that Mickey Garcia was a husband and Father and not just some Fanboy Star Trek geek had settled in—the dagger squad had seemingly become like much loved furniture amongst the Garcia household. So much so that some had their own keys, some always had their hands up to babysit, some even knew that the back window was always slightly ajar and could be opened if drunkenly in search of a place to crash. 

Your house was the closest to the Hard Deck out of all the other houses that the daggers resided in, which meant more often than not you’d come down stairs in the early hours of the morning to feed Morgan and see a very hungover, very loudly snoring, very much passed out Jake Hangman Seresin on your couch. His chest sunken as he slept soundly, a small patch of drool seeping into the fabric with the back window cracked. 

“Jake—“ You’d nudged him, watching with a humorous smile as he jolted awake. “Coffee, drink it—then get out of my damn house.” 

“Yes mamma.” Jake would always reply, the term of endearment something the group picked up early into your friendship. Quickly becoming the one they all respectfully ran to with all their promises. The mum of the group.

Although Jake was the serial lounge hogger, it was Bradley Bradshaw who had once had a key and saw any time of the day or night to make himself at home. He never meant it in a malicious manner—he was just excited to be apart and of something bigger than himself for once. Neither you nor Mickey minded all that much—until Rooster had walked in on you and Mickey bare backing it on the same couch Jake would fling himself across after his drunken escapades. 

“So fucking pretty Nav.” Mickey cooed as you bounced on his length. Straddling his waist as his hands helps your hips steady—helping to guide you up and down at the pace you set. “God what did I ever do to deserve you—Ah fugh—!” 

“Ohhhh fuckk! Mickey baby you feel so good—why don’t you put another baby in me huh?” 

“Yeah? is that what you want darling girl? Another one of us?” He wasn’t going to say he hadn’t thought about it, a third little Garcia running around. The two you had were perfect, but a third? You’d be outnumbered. “You always look so pretty pregnant.” 

It was otherworldly the way Mickey looked up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth, you were still breastfeeding so the sensation of your husband sucking on your tits was all too much. Leaking into his mouth. 

“Ohhhh fughh! Mickey!” You were still bouncing, the head of Mickey cock kissing against your cervix as he slipped a hand between the pair of you to work you over. “I’m gonna—“ 

“Holy shit—“ Rooster stood in the entryway covering his eyes. “Holy shit I didn’t see anything!” The sound of your husband's co-worker standing in the entryway sent you skyrocketing off Mickey and fumbling for the nearest throw blanket. “Swear on my mother’s grave I saw nothing Mick!” 

“What the hell are you doing here Rooster! The door was locked!?” Mickey was holding a decorative pillow to cover his hard-on. His skin still flushed red because he was so fucking close it wasn’t funny—he was about to become a father of three. 

“You gave me a key?” Rooster caught himself smirking for a brief moment as the sound of The Jonas Brothers old number one hit ‘Burnin’ Up’ played through the house. It had been your song since yours and Mickey's Naval academy days. He’d gone as Joe Jonas one year for Halloween. The song itself had even played at your wedding. “Jonas Brothers? Really Fanboy, really?” 

“Bradshaw I’m a pacifist alright—“ Mickey sighed as he took a few steps towards the sandy blonde who was just in search of a ham and cheese sandwich. “But I’m about to pass my fist across your face.” It was needlessly to say Rooster, from that point going forward—always checked in before he entered with caution. 

But it didn’t mean the never ending revolving door of ragtag aviators stopped. No—if anything your house had never been fuller. 

“Hey Lovely.” You greeted Phoenix as she kicked her boots off, Bradley wasn’t too far behind her, next was Bob. “Here’s your Valentine’s Day package.” Unbeknownst to the group of aviators, a few months ago when Rooster had teased Phoenix about possibly taking up the opportunity to do a boudoir shoot with you, she actually said fuck it? And why not? She was a powerful woman after all who deserved to feel sexy and feminine. “There’s about fifty printouts, the dried petals from the roses and a thumb drive with like one hundred digital copies from the shoot on it.” 

“Thanks Nav—and honestly I can pay for it, really.” Natasha took the little box you gifted her before taking you into a warm embrace. 

“Don’t be silly, it’s on me.” Was all you said before you found yourself being hauled away by your screaming daughter, she was rather clinging at the moment and couldn’t be away from you for more than ten consecutive minutes before she thought the world was ending. It didn’t help that Mickey had shaved his head. She hardly recognised him at the moment. “Alright alright I’m coming darling.” 

“Did you actually do a boudoir shoot?” Rooster's hand slid up the side of Natasha's hip, pulling her into him as he whispered in her ear. “Because if so—“ Before Bradley has a chance to say he wouldn’t mind being privy to those private photos, Phoenix caught him out, leaving the taller, blonde aviator who’d subsequently stolen her heart over the course of a few years in a puddle on the floor in one of his best mate’s houses. 

“They’re your Valentine’s Day gift.” 

“Bob honey, you want a sandwich?” Mickey loved the way you just so effortlessly took care of his friends the same way you took care of him. “I’ve got peanut butter or I can do ham and cheese?” 

Bobs flushed a nice shade of red as he sat down beside Fanboy at the dining table, trying not to eavesdrop on the fact Rooster and Pheonix were in his peripheral vision practically eye fucking the ever living shit out of each other. 

“Ham and cheese please Nav.” Is all Bob utters before Miles is climbing into his lap. The two had a unique bond now that they practically wore the same kind of glasses. Miles thought he looked weird with glasses because none of the other kids in his glass wore them. But then Bob told him that his glasses could be his superhero disguise, for when he’s not saving the world like his dad. 

“Do you wanna play in the tree house with me uncle Bob?” How the fuck could he say no? Nodding softly before flipping the five year old over his shoulder. 

“Here, don’t forget your sandwich!” You cooed out as Bob made his way through the kitchen with your son strung upside down over his shoulder. “Eat before you go back to work, Mickey told me you passed out the other day because you hadn’t eaten since before seven.” Bob was quick to deadpan your husband as he took the sandwich you held out for him. Leaning in to kiss your cheek softly. 

“Thanks Nav.” He took a bite before pointing at Mickey, holding your son over his shoulder with one hand wrapped tight around the little boy's ankle as he laughed and screamed as the blood rushed to his head. “Snitches get stitches!” 

“Yeah dad! Snitches get stitches!” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The Garcia household had become the home base for most things. Birthdays, public holidays, general get togethers, fried chicken Fridays, and seedy Sundays. But most importantly your humble abode had become the place people went to feel like they were at home. Not everyone was as fortunate to have their families in North Island. So you and Mickey became sort of the group mum and dad. 

“You aren't are you?” Ruben asked with wide eyes as you gifted him the small pair of socks that said best uncle ever on the tops. “You’re pregnant?” 

“After the display I walked in on a few months ago I'm shocked it hasn't come sooner–” Rooster mumbled as he looked at Mickey who sat nursing baby Morgan. Now a year old. “Congratulations by the way.” 

Your first two pregnancies had been pretty up and down. With baby Miles you suffered from hyperemesis. That was a little rough to get through when Mickey was deployed, but you had his mum and dad around to help you with things. He’d been your hospital birth baby. Epidural, all the drugs and medications readily available to help ease the pain. Morgan however, she’d been the at home birth baby. She was a breezy pregnancy so it made you wonder what it would be like to give birth at home unmedicated. 

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!” You were a sweaty mess as you laid back against Mickey in the blow up birthing pool in the middle of your living room floor. “I can't!! I can’t fucking do this!” 

“You can mamma, you’re so strong yeah? I've got you alright, you’re doing so well Nav.” Mickey had been a saint, he just knew what to do and when to do it. He was just thankful to be a part of such a magical experience. “You’re gonna bring our baby girl into the world–” It wasn't Mickey's fault that you were losing your mind from the pain. You just wanted it to be over, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as you cried in pain. 

“I fucking hate you for doing this to me.” Mickey couldn't help but to laugh softly as you placed a cool cloth against your forehead. “You did this to me, you idiot.” 

“I remember this being a two player game love, it wasn't just me.” There was not a single thing on this earth Mickey Fanboy Garcia wouldn't do for you. “You can’t not not deliver this baby Nav, she's coming regardless.” But when you groaned in agony? He wished more than anything he could take that pain away from you–but he couldn't. “You’re so beautiful–” 

“Oh my god it HURTS!” You shouted as another contraction took over your body, Mickey could feel how tight your belly was as the water lapped around your legs, spreading them to find more comfort as your doula walked you through what was going on from the edge of the pool. “Shut up Mick!” 

“Shutting up–” He mumbled as you groaned, so exhausted from your contractions. You didn't mean to lash out, so when your contraction was subsiding, giving you a little repreve for five seconds, you sobbed in in his shoulder-your back against his bare chest. 

“I didn't mean to call you an idiot, I'm sorry.” Mickey just kissed your temple lovingly. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I'm lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Yeah, congratulations guys, surely you’re gonna get the ol snip now hey Fanboy?” Jake smirked as he made a snipping gesture his way. 

“I've already booked the appointment for next month.” You added as you stood from your place in the living room. The entire group had come over for fried chicken friday. “If anyone else in the room wants to get a vasectomy let me know and I'll ring and add you to the booking.”

“Don't you dare come near me, that kinda shits barbaric.” Coyote cupped at his crotch. 

“It's minor surgery that can be reversed asshat.” Phoenix added as she slapped Javy upside the head in response to his statement. It made you all laugh for a moment until the conversation was drawn back to Bob’s latest conundrum. His crush on the new admin assistant in D block on base. It just felt like home when everyone was filling your home with laughter. Thinking back now you couldn't have imagined not knowing any of them. Ever. 

***~***~***~***~***~

Callsings. 

Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it, whenever his friends and colleagues were asked about it. They could lie and say it was because he was the biggest nerd they knew, but they didn't. 

Each time Rooster or Bob, Phoenix of Payback, Hangman or Coyote were asked about their friends' callsign. They told the truth. And the fact of the matter was Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia was and forever would be lovingly and completely yours forever.

[teddybeartoji]

even though toji loves lazing at home with you, he does think it's very adorable how you like to drag him to the cutest little coffee shops you can find. he might let out a grumble or two but those are only so you can whine and pout at him. hand in hand, you tug him behind you while talking his ear off about how you found the place and what the menu is like and how good the reviews are and how pretty it looks and toji takes it all in with a grin on his face.

it's sappy, he knows, but he really can't help it. if you're happy, he's happy and if that means following you through the crowded streets every sunday then so be it. the sound of you humming at the first sip of the warm beverage and the sight of you smiling ever-so-brightly at the first bite of the sweet pastry that's in your hand is enough to get his heart racing. he's giddy, like some teenager who's on his first date ever – the gooey feeling floods his body, every nook and cranny. it never leaves. the rest of the world drowns out as he zones in on your face, mossy green eyes locking onto yours while resting his heavy head on his palm.

smitten.

you ask how his own drink is and all he can muster up is a hum but your smile widens at his response anyway. you're both glad to just be there with each other – no words needed. there's a slight flush on his cheeks and you can't really tell whether it's because of the warm air around you in this coffee shop or it's the hot drink.

it's neither.

obviously, it's because of you.

but it's also because of the small, little velvety box that's hiding in the depths of his right pocket, just waiting for the right time.

[tiarpopdind]

The way they both fumbled makes me giggle

[isjasz]

[Day 96]

Together they become GUY!!

(Context: On the stream yesterday they were joking about just combining into one player for decked out LOL)

(And Hermittober: Day 1 Frost ❄️)

[aeonmnei]

— “i’m home,” hajime calls from downstairs. you glance at the clock as you put your book down, sliding your feet into your slippers. “welcome back,” you reply, plodding down the stairs with a yawn. “long game?” 

he runs his hands through his hair tiredly as he leans his elbows on the kitchen counter. “like you wouldn’t believe.” you frown, and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “there’s leftovers in the fridge. i’ll make you a bath while you eat?” you ask, patting his hip. 

hajime groans softly, his hands on his face. “that sounds great,” he murmurs. “sorry i came home late again.” “s’okay,” you assure him, rubbing his back. “i’ll wash your hair, too.”

you sit outside of the bathtub on a stool, lathering his shampoo in your hands as he leans his head back. “lean forward just a bit, my love,” you urge. he complies, letting you run your fingers through his hair in a comfortable silence.

he takes a deep, ragged breath as your hands move to massage the knots in his back and shoulders. you furrow your brows in concern. “does that hurt?” you can see the bump of his spine as he leans his head forward. “no,” he mumbles, and he relaxes, letting out a shuddering exhale. “no. feels nice.”

after a few quiet moments, you press a small kiss between his shoulder blades. “love you forever, haji.”

[demapatto-art]

fellas is it gay to wake up and find your still sleeping best friend hugging you (well... maybe the hug wasn't too bad...)

[emmyrosee]

Can I request anything food related with Sukuna 🥺

I don’t rlly have anything specific lol but my life has never been the same since finding out that Sukuna canonically loves eating so I’d love to see that in a more wholesome way 😩

“Ah-ah!”

Your wooden spoon comes down and cracks hard on Sukuna’s knuckle that’s trying to get a scoop of cookie dough, a yell of pain ringing in the air. He waves it around before cradling it in his other hand, “are you fucked in the head?!”

“Don’t. Touch,” you say firmly, not wavering under his pout. “These are for Kugisaki. Not for you. Keep your nasty little paws out of the dough.”

“But-!”

“No buts,” you say firmly, waving your spoon at him in warning. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll save you some cookies. But do not. Eat. The dough.”

“You’re not my dad-“ he reaches again to try and take a fingerful of dough, only to whip his hand back when you try and whack him again. “Stop it!”

“Stop trying to taint my cookie dough!” You snap, and he grumbles and pouts more. You roll your eyes and stalk over to him, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his red knuckle, “make yourself a sandwich, and I’ll make you a big cookie for dessert.”

“Why don’t you make me one?” He grumbles, and when you smack his chest, he holds his arms out in defense, “not like that, for compensation! God, chill out.” When you thwack him again, he whines, “fucking god, stop hitting me!”

“Maybe don’t say or do things that make me have to hit you,” you shrug. He grumbles something under his breath, still rubbing the sore knuckle, and with a small sigh, you grab a clean spoon from the drawer and scoop a small amount of cookie dough onto it, bringing it over to him to let him take a bite.

He’s wary, eyeing you uncomfortably, “…is this a trick?”

“Would I trick you when it comes to cookies?”

He looks you up and down for a sign that you are kidding, but when you nudge the spoon again at his lips, he takes it into his mouth, eyes closing at the sweet, sticky cookie dough. “‘Fanks,” he says, mouth full.

“Youre welcome,” you say sweetly, tossing your arms around his neck. “You’re just one big baby today, aren’t you?”

“How dare you talk to me the way you do?” he grumbles. He completely goes against himself however as he gives you a small peck on the lips before patting your butt to let you go, “you want a sandwich too? For all your hard work of baking and beating the shit out of me?”

You snicker and turn back to your dough, “no thank you, I’ll make one once I’m done.”

“Fine. See if I’m nice to you again.”

“You seldom are anyways.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight.”

[yuuchama]

(Leona Kingscholar x gender neutral reader)

Leona had groaned and ranted against you sleeping in his bed all night. "There's no room," he claimed while sprawled out on a mattress wide enough to fit an entire Spelldrive team. If you laid down to claim the bed's edge, he'd kick you to the carpet or nudge you over the side and quickly pretend to be asleep. The hours he spent coming up with excuses and dirty tricks would have been better spent actually sleeping.

Many times he'd yawn and repeat, "what kind of herbivore willingly crawls into the den of a beast?" while keeping you at arm's length. Every time you thought he was out cold and snuck back over, he'd swat you away. It was a raging battle of endurance.

Yet when morning came, Leona sang a completely different tune. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of staying up late. Perhaps he was just done fighting his feelings. At some point he really did fall asleep, allowing you to take over one pillow and the fringed corner of a blanket. They were temporary luxuries.

You awoke with the heavy prince on top of you, each slow breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled his chin against your shoulder. His arm curled around your head. Strands of long, dark brown hair stuck to your lips. Sunlight poured through the windows, bringing the dry heat of the day with it. You could have cooled off by moving a leg if the prince hadn't hooked his own knee over your thighs.

"Leona...?" You whispered the name. The pressure of his chest pushing down on yours made inhaling an inconvenience. Your hope that he would wake up was successfully answered by a twitch of his ear against your cheek.

"Leona, I can't breathe." Though still half asleep and uncoordinated, you felt uncomfortable. The sensation of pins and needles danced in your hands, along the bottom of your feet, and you wanted to roll over. Leona's tail tuft began to swish lazily, trailing over the hem of your shirt. Bit by bit, it helped you wake. "I want to get up."

You strained to move out from under the mass of muscles, grabbing the mattress's edge to pull yourself up. Leona huffed and buried his face further against your skin. There was an odd sensation at the base of your neck. A little damp, a little sharp, and very warm. Leona gently nipped at your throat until you stopped trying to escape.

"Did you just bite me?" Though tired, you were now fully awake and could take in more of the situation. Leona responded with a sleepy grunt. You retaliated with a couple strikes to his side, weakly aiming for the only spots within reach. "You're hot! Let me up!"

It was the wrong course of action. Leona stirred, only to move his arm across your chest and lock both legs around yours. Fingertips grasped at the fabric of your attire. "Be quiet," he grumbled, turning his face towards yours. He knew you'd talk less if your chin had to fight the weight of his head.

You were more stuck than before. "I can't move."

"Should have listened when I warned you." You were nothing more than captured prey in the lion's embrace.

Leona's chest returned to a rhythmic rise and fall as the morning birdsong lulled him back to sleep. You were going to have to put up with his body heat for a few more hours.

[saltofmercury]

"a.m."

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Summary: Early morning scenes, small nightmare.

Author's note: HOLY CRAP it's been a while! I haven't written anything in almost a YEAR. I'm glad that I've finally got a lil kick of writing back in me :) This is something small I wrote back in May just to get the gears working again.

"a.m."

You can hear his breathing to your left. 

Morning is just peeking through– a soft gloom enveloping your room. You’re not sure what time he got in, or how he got in this time.

“Why do you even have a key?” you ask when he unlocks the balcony window.

“In case you’re not home to unlock it for me.” He smiles big and wide, stripping the weapons aside.

It’s become a running joke to you both on how he decides to enter your apartment.

Your eyes shoot open. There’s a mountain of pillows surrounding you, warm blankets on top of you. The room is dimly lit from streetlights. You're almost sure it hasn't been a full 8 hours and yet—- your body is telling you to wake up.

You turn towards him. You almost never get to see this side of him. His breathing, slow and rhythmic. He looks so much younger when he’s relaxed. He takes over most of the bed. Arms curled above him, he’s wrapped most of the top blanket around him.

The scar below his left eye is raised, his lips are puckered out. A soft moan escapes his lips, then his body twitches. You’re on high alert.

Nightmares aren’t new. The first couple of nights that he decided to stay over your apartment, you were woken up by whimpers and sudden movements. You would sometimes catch them before he woke up and carefully soothe him back to sleep– rubbing his cheek, placing kisses along his face. Whispering careful “i love you’s” and “you’re alright i’m here now”

By morning, it was like nothing happened at all.

For him, though he may never admit it, it was nice to experience vulnerability. The constant battle he has to get a full night's rest. A plague that encases him at night.

You move closer, placing your hand on his cheek, tracing the scar with your thumb. You place a kiss on his forehead between his brows, then over the scar on his cheek. 

“You’re alright, you’re okay” you murmur.

An exhale — 

his face contorts a bit, brows furrow, then an inhale through his nose.

A hand cups your elbow, rubbing side to side. He’s fighting sleep. His eyes try to peel open.

“What time is it?” His voice, low and groggy.

“It’s too early, almost 5 am” You kiss him, apologizing. 

He groans —not even an hour of sleep. 

“Were you having a nightmare?” 

“No, I got in around 4…” He adjusts himself, the bed springs, a yawn escapes. Deflecting the question.

Sleep carefully disintegrates from his eyes. He inhales, and his eyes blink open. He can make your face out in the darkness, the gloom behind you haloing.

His body, heavy with fatigue, he pushes it aside to get closer to you, wrapping himself around you.

Warmth, vanilla, home, love.

“I used the front door today…” he mentions. He's a little proud of himself.

You giggle, adjusting yourself under his chin. His hand pulls you closer, rubbing warmth to your back. His legs warm around you. 

“Wasn’t it so much easier?”

He scoffs, remembering how ridiculous it felt to walk in with his helmet. He had to disable the cameras in the entrance then double check for anyone in the hallway to not scare them off.

“Everyone was asleep… thankfully. I just couldn’t help but think someone would see me, then see me use a key to enter an apartment.���

You smile at how silly it sounds. The Red Hood having an apartment to come home to.

“It’s much better than entering through a balcony window.” you whisper.

He hums, “Entering through a balcony never gave me nightmares.”

Tracing circles on his back, you lull him back to sleep, waiting for his breathing to even out. You whisper more love into his ear, hoping it reaches his subconscious.

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[xinganhao]

🌱 wonwoo x producer!reader.

the five times wonwoo swears he's over you (and the one time that he decides he isn't) ★ see also: main post, drabble

♫ maybe i'm just not better than this, i haven't tried / 'cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time.

🌱 the five times.

when he sees you for the first time in over a year.

he believes it's the nice thing to do, treating you out to dinner. he froze you out, after all, because he was stupid and he didn't know how to handle his crush on you. he likes to think that the past fourteen months have made him better. wiser. so, that night, he makes it up to you. he also makes up a dozen different excuses. do his eyes linger on you a little too long as you happily drink your yogurt drink? he's just making sure you like what he chose for you. does he walk a little closer when he notices you're shivering from the evening cold? he's just concerned you might get sick. he doesn't like you anymore. he's better now, wiser now. he has to be.

when your second studio choom video comes out.

it's not the same as the first time, where he'd smiled to himself while watching you perform your latest comeback in STUDIO CHOOM's crisp, 4k quality. back then, that's how he had known he was done for. this time, he watches it purely out of curiosity. to add to the millions of views that the video is already raking up. he keeps a straight face the whole time. just watches with a perfectly neutral expression. he's just a guy supporting a friend, isn't he? when he gets through the entire video without smiling, he counts that as a win. if his heart— the bloody traitor— had stuttered at your ending fairy, well. that's an entirely different story.

on a random tuesday, just because.

he's never really seen the appeal in games like stardew valley; they were always a little too slow for his taste. but you'd absolutely begged, and so he begrudgingly bought the game for ₩20,600 just to shut you up. he still doesn't care much for it, to be quite honest. there's a lot of slow, lazy days where he just dicks around in-game. he bears with it anyway since you're always so happy when you beat him at fishing, or when you get to steal away the bachelorette he was going after. your voice is a low buzz in his ear as the two of you play until the sun has risen, until he's cussing you out for keeping him up so late when he has a schedule to go to. you let him complain all he wants because he'll still back online for co-op later that night.

when you're back in the same recording studio as him.

this one is the hardest, because this is where he fell for you in the first place. you, with your head bent as you fiddle with jihoon's digital audio workstation. you, with your usually friendly demeanor shuttered behind something so cool and collected. the pencil tucked behind your ear. the way you worry your lower lip as the boys croon. he wants to scream, wants to test just how soundproof this damn studio is. instead, he sings his lines. he makes adjustments as necessary. he watches you do your thing, even jokes to you here and there. it's all he can do to keep his mind away from what it wants so badly to stray back to. in the end, he doesn't scream. but when you smile at him and tease him that he did a good job— he wishes he had.

when he drives you home after you've had one too many to drink.

you're half-asleep in his passenger seat, all soft edges and incoherent mumbles. he tries to be cross with you, tries to tell you off for not knowing your limits and ending up like this. there's an unmistakable softness in his gaze, though, as he makes sure the seatbelt isn't too tight around your frame. he avoids all the potholes and goes extra careful over the speed bumps. by the time he makes it to your dorm, you're already passed out with your cheek pressed against the window. he decides to let you sleep for only thirty seconds more. as he mentally counts down— thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight— he tries to convince himself that it won't sting when he gets to one. (it still does.)

🌸 the one time.

on another random tuesday.

in the end, it's not an evening of stardew valley that gets him. it's not one of your fancams, not your warm presence in his shotgun. no, it's something much more stupid. something much more small. it's the way he looks for his phone when it pings. he doesn't even know if it's you who's texting him. but it could be, and that's enough to have him fishing through his bag hastily. he catches himself one afternoon, notices the way he's just a touch too excited to check the newest notification. he's not any wiser or better, it seems. he doesn't know if he can be. he's still the same jeon wonwoo with a hopeless crush on you.

[teddybeartoji]

toji taking little gumi to his first judo match and you know that toji is sitting in the first row with miki, cheering him on with strong words.

and by that i mean that he's not yelling, he's barely raising his voice but he the tone is just so confident, so sure and determined that it makes gumi feel stronger too. simple things like "c'mon, gumi." and "ya have him, ya have him." are enough to clear the boy's mind – there are so many sounds and noises all around him, he's not even the only one who's doing this right now. bright lights and what feels like a hundred pairs of eyes on him were distracting before, overwhelming. but when he sees his dad, clear as day, he knows he can do it.

taking a deep breath in, little gumi eyes his opponent while thinking about everything his old man has been teaching him. patience. the other boy is excited (though gumi is too) and he's more hyper, bouncing around, trying his best to grab onto megumi's attire but he keeps getting swatted away. toji's green eyes meet gumi's over the kid's shoulders and it's the final boost of confidence he needs – in two swift moves, megumi has the boy on the floor, signaling that the match has finally come to an end.

he hears the deep rasp and his head snaps to the voice.

"that's my boy."

he doesn't yell, he doesn't scream – toji now stands by the bleachers with a proud grin on his face with a cheerful miki right beside him. his voice is steady as ever as he praises his from the distance. megumi will never forget this moment.

(toji knows how flustered his son can get if he's under the spotlight and while it is, sometimes, fun to tease him just a little for it – he would never do it in a situation like this. he wants gumi to feel good about his win, he wants him to have fun. he wants him to feel proud of himself too.)

a tiny smile, the faintest one, creeps onto megumi's lips and toji's heart is about to give out. his boy. his son. his little blessing. he watches the coach? grab his tiny hand to rightfully end the match and to show the winner to the crowd around them and toji takes a mental picture of the sight.

gumi's hand reaches up high with the help of the man beside him and he looks like a proper winner. the little boy's cheeks are flushed red from the tussling and his outfit is all disheveled from being yanked around but he looks happy. toji couldn't be more pleased.

and then gumi makes his way over to his dad and sister with haste steps. his arms reach out for toji and he's quick to reciprocate, pulling his baby boy up into his embrace. he hold gumi's head to his neck, knowing that he likes to hide there whenever he's feeling a bit too much.

"ya did s'good, gumi."

tiny fingers dig into toji's sweatshirt and toji knows that megumi heard him. really heard him. he will, of course, keep saying it again and again throughout the day but right now, he just really needed to make sure that gumi knows.

tsumiki fiddles with the hem of gumi's pants and toji gives her a smile before ruffling her hair. her scrunched up face, makes the corners of his own lips tug ever wider as he rumbles out a chuckle.

"wanna go home now?"

toji scratches gumi's warm back in order to get an answer out of him and the only thing he gets is a nod against his neck. and that's more than enough.

[ellieputellas]

pretend | alexia putellas x reader

Alexia contemplates her feelings as you pretend a drunken kiss between you two never happened.

contains: angst, some making out, barçafemeni!reader, avoidant!reader, just a lot of angst tbh | word count: 2k+

a/n: not proofread, just wrote this cause i couldnt sleep and was listening to lizzy mcalpine's hate to be lame which gave me this idea

it's always on the tip of my tongue but i stop myself from saying it tell myself it's not the right time or something dumb

The last night of the Champion's League celebration was supposed to be just like any other victory party—loud, drunk, messy. On nights like this, it was natural to make a fool of yourself.

Alexia was never immune to the drunken stupidity — the typical drunken dancing and singing, foolish antics that got the team laughing. (In one victory party, Alexia found herself dancing with someone else's sports bra wrapped around on her head.)

But on that particular night, her drunken act of stupidity wasn't just loud karaoke or making a fool of herself. No, it was way different.

At some point, during the night, you two had gotten drunk and began grinding on each other at the dance floor. It was normal for teammates to get a bit touchy during parties so no one bat an eye but Alexia knew this thing happening between you two was different.

It started with playful dancing then you somehow found a way to plant a few kisses on her neck. It didn’t take long until you two ended up stumbling into the vacant restroom, kissing each other desperately.

Some kind of tension has always lingered between the two of you before but Alexia always chalked it up to the two of you being newly single. She always brushed it off, thinking it might just be her reading into things. Afer all, you have always been her type and she figured she might be interpreting your dynamic through wishful thinking.

But that night, that small tension she felt burst into something more, and she understood that this meant it wasn't just her who felt attraction towards the other.

She felt your hands desperately cling onto her as you locked lips. Your tongue glided on her bottom lip before ultimately finding its way into her mouth. You took turns pinning each other against the flimsy walls of the cramped stall.

Alexia's hand has found it way to your neck, gently tilting your head up with it before pressing her mouth against your neck to kiss, lick, and bite at you. You gasped in satisfaction as the taller girl kissed your neck.

You grabbed her face again to kiss her deeper, more intensely. Alexia felt that this was the type of kiss that could lead to something more; the likelihood of you crossing that line increasing with every minute that passed.

You gently pushed her off of you, as you tried to catch a breath. Your eyes remained locked as you stayed within close proximity. After a while, you noticed the hunger in Alexia's eyes simmer down into something more... soft and intimate.

This time, Alexia gently touched your face and moved to capture your lips again but this time, you looked away and avoided her kiss. You sighed before hurriedly unlocking the stall, walking out the restroom, and leaving Alexia all alone without even a goodbye.

Alexia felt dumbfounded. She thought that this kiss was your way of addressing the tension, a way of telling her that maybe you felt attracted to her too. But with the sudden exit, she began to doubt herself.

She wanted to talk to you about it the next time you saw each other but it became immediately evident to her that you were set on pretending like nothing happened.

You still joked with her in training, still bantered with her, tell stories like normal. You acted exactly like you did before; it was as if she dreamt up the kiss.

She played along like nothing had shifted, like your kiss had been meaningless. She even laughed at your jokes during training. But every word felt like a lie, every shared laughter felt like a stab.

In her mind, she wished you'd at least act different. She would rather you hated her or avoided her, something—anything to confirm that there was something real, something more.

But you acted like it was nothing.

She felt like she was going crazy, even doubting her own sanity at some point. She spent the past few months trying to forget it ever happened. But the more she tried, the more it hurt her. Because how could you pretend that all of that was nothing... when it felt like everything for her.

But then you kiss me like you do And we're right back where we started from

It was Pina’s birthday.

Alexia initially didn't want to go. It was in the middle of the season and she knew that the team captain being there meant everyone would be too hesitant and shy to drink, knowing she was around.

But she knew how Pina was, and she knew Pina would pester her endlessly if she didn't at least make an appearance.

So, she did. She went to the place late and much to her surprise, most of the team was behaving. A few of the players were nursing a bottle of beer but nothing excessive. She figured she must have done something right for her teammates to be so well-disciplined even without her hovering around them.

Well... she thought that until she saw you.

Of course, she's drunk. She thought to herself.

You were already tipsy, practically glowing, and laughing too loudly. The sight of you sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through her.

You had your arms wrapped around Caro, who was trying too hard to help you sober up by making you drink from a bottle of water. Alexia sighed and made her way to save Caro from your drunkenness.

Caro gave her a thankful look as she took over in aiding to you. She let you drape your arms around her as she wiped the stray hairs that stuck to your face.

"In the middle of the season?" She asked you in a stern voice. "Really?"

You frowned at her. "You wouldn't get it."

Alexia just sighed as she continued what Caro was doing, desperately trying to get you to sober up. "Did something happen?"

You stayed silent but you were too easy to read when you were drunk. Your glazed expression gave away that you were going through something. You still had an arm wrapped around Alexia, as if to keep yourself balanced, but you were also trying to avert your gaze away from her.

Alexia sighed. "I should take you home."

You bit your lip but you nodded. Alexia sighed and held your waist as you kept an arm around her; she was afraid if she let go, you'd fall over.

The car ride was silent. She wanted to talk to you about why you were getting irresponsibly drunk, why you seemed upset and... why you acted like your kiss never happened. But instead, she stayed silent, and as did you.

Alexia pulled up to your apartment building. After she parked, you unclasped your seatbelts but neither of you made a move to exit the car.

Alexia sighed. "Do you wanna talk... about anything?"

You shifted your gaze towards her, taking in how pretty she looked tonight. She was wearing a leather jacket on top of a cropped shirt, revealing a sliver of her abdomen. Your eyes now fluttered to her face. You took in her warm eyes, her nose, her lips. She looked so besutiful even under the dim lighting. You thought, fuck, why does she have to be so gorgeous?

You hummed. "I'm sorry I took you away from the party... especially since you look so good tonight."

Alexia started growing anxious as you said those words. "Well, I didn't really plan on going anyway..." Alexia said.

Drunkenly, you reached out to cup her face and guiding it upward so she'd meet your gaze. You stayed that way for a bit, just looking at each other's eyes. Until finally, you couldn't take it.

You leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. It was more gentle than before, more intentional. As you pulled away, you studied her expression but Alexia just looked pained.

She sighed and looked away, causing your hand on her cheek to drop. She took a deep breath as she gripped the steering wheel with her hands and rested her head on top of it.

Emotions were overwhelming her. This was the long overdue confirmation she wanted from you so bad yet... it felt so wrong.

After a minute, Alexia finally spoke. "Why?"

"Huh? Why what?" You asked back.

She lifted her head slightly and locked eyes with you again. "Just... why?"

You sighed. "I don't know... I just want to kiss you."

Alexia looked exasperated. She took a moment to think. Do you remember last time? Why did you act like it never happened? Why do you want to kiss me now? Why do you only want to kiss me when you're drunk? Do I mean something? Do the kisses mean something? Do you... like me like I like you?

She had a million questions flying around her head but she settled on one. "Tell me honestly. Do you remember the last time we kissed?" She locked eyes with you and this time, you could see pain behind them. She tried to be firm with the way she asked but the vulnerability seeped through.

You blinked at her. “I think about it all the time,” you admitted before you could even consider lying; your inebriation made you too honest.

Alexia chest tightened as she felt hurt by the admission. Am I not supposed to be happy... that she thinks about it too like I do?

Before she could react, you were trying to lean in again as your face cupped her cheek, trying to kiss her. And that's when Alexia snapped into clarity.

No. You were drunk. This wasn’t... healthy. She couldn’t let herself do this again, not when everything between you was so confusing, so undefined.

“No,” Alexia whispered, gently pushing you away, though her hands shook with the desire to do exactly the opposite.

You looked at her with an expression that could only read as upset to Alexia but she tried to ignore it as she unlocked your car door. "I think you should go."

You stayed steady for a minute, twiddling your thumbs then staring at her but she kept her head low, trying so hard not to look at you until you finally stepped out without another word.

Hate to admit but it might be true Hate to admit but I think you knew Hate to be lame but I might love you

After that night, as expected, you didn't acknowledge the kiss. But this time, you started acting cold.

No more joking around. No more banter. You'd be laughing it up with the other Barça girls but as soon as Alexia came over, you'd bail and make an excuse to avoid her.

It was killing her, just being like this. Mapi had taken notice and pulled Alexia aside to ask if she was alright, which Alexia just hesitantly nodded.

Mapi didn't believe it for a moment. "Is it because of..." Mapi trailed off as she discreetly turned her gaze towards you as you were busy on your phone in the locker room.

Alexia sighed and said nothing but that was enough confirmation for Mapi. She sighed. "You need to talk it out," She said. "It's kinda affecting your dynamic on and off the pitch."

Alexia knew Mapi was right. Not only was it taking a toll on her emotions to be dealing with this awkward tension and silent avoidance, it wasn't long before shit gets worse and the team performance is affected. If it was only affecting her, she would have dropped the whole issue but she knew this was beyond you and her.

She caught you before training the next day, her voice sharp but shaking as she confronted you. "Can we talk?"

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, Capi?"

She winced at the nickname, knowing that it was your tactic to distance yourself from her. Just another subtle way of deflecting.

“I know you feel the same way,” Alexia blurted it out, her words tumbling out too quickly. She regretted being so outright but she also no longer wanted to waste time. She had to do what she had to do.

Alexia sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. “And... it hurt when you acted like nothing happened. Like it didn’t matter.” Her chest heaved with the weight of everything she hadn’t said.

You stayed silent which just forced Alexia into doing all the talking. "I don't know what's going on with you but... why me? Why are you roping me into this?"

"It's nothing." You muttered.

Alexia grew frustrated. "Bullshit."

"What do you want me to do, Alexia?" Your eyes finally met hers.

"I don't know." She groaned. "Admit you like me too... or even just admit you kissed me. Tell me why you did. Tell me if it mattered. Fuck, I'd settle with you telling me it was a mistake. I just... need to hear from you that..."

"Nothing happened,” you said firmly, almost as if to convince yourself as much as her.

Alexia’s heart sank. She was there just begging for you to admit it did, even if you say it was a mistake; she just needed to hear it from you. Instead, you denied her again.

“But—”

“Drop it,” you snapped, turning quickly, rushing away before she could say anything more.

She watched you go, her hands shaking at her sides. There was nothing more she could do. She was left standing there, confused and hurt, unable to understand why it hurt so much. How could you pretend it meant nothing when everything inside her screamed that it meant everything?

Do I love her? Do I need her? Do I want her? Do I care enough to say That I love her, that I need her? 'Cause I don't but I wanna feel okay

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and Alexia still couldn't forget what happened.

Your dynamic on the pitch suffered for a bit but it recovered. And pretty soon, you were acting normal again around her.

As if nothing, nothing at all, had happened.

For a while, Alexia had convinced herself she had moved on from it. It was just two kisses, she told herself on multiple occasions. You don't even like her that much.

But there were nights when she couldn't help but be consumed with confusion and frustration. She hated how it happened—how you treated her, how you pretended nothing was real.

On most days, she hated you. She acted normal around you, sure, but there was an added layer now. Everything was more guarded. Even if she asked you often how you were and laughed at your jokes, your relationship was hurt and it could never go back to how it was.

And even if she did despise you for what you did... she still couldn’t stop the way her heart raced when she saw you. She couldn’t shut off the part of her that still hoped that maybe, one day, you'd admit to her that it did happen and maybe that you feel a certain softness for her too.

But she knew it wasn't happening any time soon and now, all she can do is what you do best — pretend.

[zephyrchama]

Asmodeus being overly expectant that MC is going to propose to him any day now for no reason.

It’s a quiet evening and the two are lazing around on the bed in Asmodeus’s room. New skin mask pouches have been opened and applied. New issues of each of the Devildom’s most popular fashion magazines lay scattered around.

MC rolls over until they bump into Asmodeus’ thigh and raise their magazine. “Hey, Asmo. What do you think of--” ”Yes.” There is no hesitation. “Yes, I think we should.”

Asmodeus throws down the magazine he was looking at to lean over and pepper MC’s face with kisses. “Let’s get engaged, right now!”

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just wondering what you thought of this top.”

“Oh... It’s kind of tacky. You’re not wearing that to our wedding, right?”

----

It’s dinnertime and, as usual, everyone is gathered around the large dining room table. MC is across the table and several seats down from Asmodeus, with most of his brothers seated between them.

MC’s plate is almost empty. They give the table a once-over look before deciding on a course of action that requires interrupting the current conversation.

“Pardon me, Asmo, will you-”

Asmodeus squeals and kicks his feet. “Yes! A thousand times, yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

“Wait, no that’s not what--”

“What!?” Mammon shouts, much to the chagrin of Lucifer next to him.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Belphegor quips.

Leviathan looks like he’s about to start crying.

Satan and Beelzebub, sane enough to not jump to conclusions, seem to piece together the situation. Together they work to pass MC a plate of dinner rolls that had been in front of Asmodeus.

“This what you wanted?” Satan asks.

“Yes, I was just asking for these,” MC sighs. Bread will serve nicely to sop up the remaining sauce on their plate. “Thanks.”

Asmodeus responds, “we can serve them at the reception, I think that’s fine.”

Mammon tells him to “get yer head out of the clouds, Asmo, nobody’s marrying you.”

Their mutual glares practically send sparks across the table.

“Pass them back this way,” Beelzebub requests, wanting three more for himself.

----

It’s the middle of the school day. MC pops their head into a classroom. This time they've mentally prepared.

“Asmo, do you wanna-”

"Yes? Yes! I’ll marry you.” As predicted, Asmodeus runs over and winds his arms around MC’s waist. He presses his forehead against theirs and leans them back into a dip. Several students clap. “Proposing to me at school? How brazen.”

“Well, maybe this time I’ll actually think about it, but you have to take me out for lunch first. Deal?”

Asmodeus looks somewhat stunned. He parts his lips and thinks over the proposition while staring into MC’s eyes, searching for any hint of a lie.

“Wait… Really?” He pulls MC back up and takes them by the wrist. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”