#i can't wait to get the second piece done

[munv]

𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗜 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘?

SAVE ME I FINALLY CONTINUED THIS SERIES FOR 2025 AS PROMISEDDDDDD LETS GOOOOO??

Pain beckons you to rid yourself of a weak mindset, to improve, to move forward, and to forget the empty hollow that you used to be, but you can't find that spark within yourself. The same one that ended up turning you into a shell of what you once were, an old name you were referred to during such bright times. Yet, now you can only find it within yourself to eat up every word that's thrown up at you to ease that emptiness.

It's a desperate attempt. 

A futile one.

And it hurts you more than it hurts them.

It's taking piece by piece, and slowly but surely taking all for what you're worth. Every single thing that builds up your character, what makes the bright bubbling soul is now broken. Gone. And there is nothing you can do about it. It was to a point where you were doing everything to convince yourself "I'm better than them". A stupid lie to cover up the truth. 

It slips from the grasp of the wretched, and into a small child that knows zero to nothing. Make-believe acquaintances filled the child's everyday life. Your everyday life. They brought empty promises to truth, and two-faced devils with a slit tongue to their knees. The world for you to behold, just in the palms of your hand. The pinnacle of power is just so close, but not yet there. Not yet.

They don't work for free. They will share this paradise at a price, in the darkness those voices call out, beg, and plead they may. Are never heard, for they carry warnings with them. It doesn't pass by or occur though, not when their muffled screams fall on the deaf ears of the naive and careless. Lambs to the slaughter. And that much is clear when their mutated bodies are accompanied by the smell of sweet death. Fruity undertones and rotting flesh. They must've been there for a while because beyond that door the blood spills out. 

Each stream of the red liquid spells out your name letter by letter. 

They welcome you with open arms, ready to grace you with their overwhelming presence. Nobody ever realizes what they have done unless it's a tad bit too late, and you are a prime example of such. You are pulled in close within their hold, with no way to escape, no second of a breather.

"This is what you wanted, no?"

It speaks to you in a blunt tone, daring you to voice out its wrongings yourself. It knows what you've seen, the mutated bodies, the gut-wrenching torture as every victim was torn limb to limb, cut open, and feasted upon like fine dining. Every organ was left to the side individually so the rest of them could get a taste of what they were like. Side dishes seasoned in mostly red. The main theme. And to top it all off, in round glass cups that curved and swerved upwards was vital fluid in all its glory. Once tipped over, it spilled over the satin sheets laid on the table, running wild, just as it would in a real breathing body. 

They were treated like animals. A few yelled for the soon-to-be meals to be quiet meanwhile some laughed at the fruitless attempts at freedom. They deserve this.

You are a true lamb, not one of those sheep in wolf's clothing. You. Are. Pure

This exact thought devours your mind and soul, becoming one in the process. It's undeniable, inescapable. And they tell you to accept your true nature. The one it— no.. she bestowed upon you like a holy grail. Yet, you don't feel the peak of it just yet. You are still far too young, and inexperienced to reach the goal. So they wait. 

Many long years, some felt like true eons. But it was ok, they stayed with you, fed you, and watched you grow. And soon the fruits of their labor were sealed. You soon found yourself drifting down what seemed to be a long hallway, endless, is what it seemed to be.

This

is 

your 

home.

The light engulfed you for the last time, and you woke up, and the dull pain of being killed reached out to you but failed nonetheless.   

It was time and this was your purpose.

TAG-LIST: @tabbycake @vduxx @thebigcheez @sattosugu @96jnie @sammyiguess @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 @boo-kugo @vile-woman @itsmekalou @tojisworm69 @bbynday @whats-humanity-lol

(please send in anon or comment to be on the talglist!!)

[hawkeyedflame]

new ink. first of two pieces honoring myself, my past and my journey forward. being finally free from 15 years of physical and mental illness, being able to see for the first time in my life that there is a future for me that's worth having, worth fighting and struggling and striving towards... it's too big a feeling to put into words. this line is just a placeholder for the song from which it came.

florence + the machine carried me through my lowest lows, and now keeps me company in my highest highs. the second piece will also be a reflection of their influence on my heart and creative spirit.

[luminni]

Most desperate things the 141 boys have done for sex because I can't stop thinking about it <3

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

John's begged for it. I mean on his hands and knees begging for a taste. I know this man is an avid pussy pronoun user too. He has been on his knees in front of you as you sit pretty on his couch, trailing kisses up your soft belly to your tits and then back down to your thighs.

"C'mon sweet girl lemme' 'ave a taste of 'er yeah? Know she fuckin' needs me hm? Just look at tha'" as he runs a thumb of the wetness that's seeped through you thin panties, just waiting for you to say the words and let him tear them off.

He knows if anybody else in the 141 or if any of his fellow soldiers could see him now, the Captain Price practically drooling over you and sweet talking your cunt like it could hear him they would have a fit. But he couldn't care less because you looked so fucking good right now so "just let 'er 'ave what she wants alright sweet thing?"

I just know Kyle has spent 70% of his last month's pay check on hotel room because the 5 star pent house suite was the only hotel room in your area left available during the holidays. He played it cool with an arm around your waist assuring you it was fine, acting like this was the room he wanted to get, not the one he was forced to have. But if he was being forced to do anything thank god it was spoiling you.

"Don't worry 'bout it love. Just make 'urself comfortable" He'll say in a sultry sweet tone, planting kisses up the side of your neck before excusing himself to the lavish bathroom to check his bank account. He had to make sure he still had enough to buy you a nice breakfast in the morning.

And you're already layed out so pretty for him on the bed so he's not complaining about anything. Especially not the mirror situated on the ceiling right above the bed. Oh and don't you dare suggest splitting the cost, "just split your legs for me hun, 's all ya need to do"

Johnny is eager, like so so eager. When a passionate make out session on your couch got even more heated than either of you had previously expected and he now had his fingers playing with the waistband of your skirt, letting his cold finger tips splay themselves just below. When he got to the hem of your panties and began to hook a finger into the lace you had to stop him,

"Johnny"

"Yea?" He was breathless, chasing your lips when you pulled away to talk. You almost felt bad for separating but if he was going to touch you, there was one request you needed to make. You had felt his nails drag across your thighs moments earlier, it felt wonderful but they were...a little long.

"Do ya nae want this hen?" He'd ask, looking at you like you were a piece of art. Pleading with his eyes, shining like they'd spill tears if you said yes.

"No, no I want this, I want you so so much. It's just..." you trailed off

"Tell me what's wrong bonnie and I'll fix it, yeah?" his hands kept you grounded to his lap either a soft grip on you ass.

"It's just- you're nails, they're a little long" your request was nothing more than whisper.

'Oh' Johnny knew he probably should have just asked for clippers, but you felt so damn good on his lap. He could feel your warm cunt through the zipper of his jeans and with your tits brushing against his chest he couldn't bring himself to move.

You watched in shock as he just began to just tear his nails off with his teeth. Without a second thought his pointer and middle finger nails were bit off to the skin. He paused and looked at his right hand before ripping off the index finger as well.

"Johnny what's gotten into you-?"

But he's already got his hands back down your skirt. Soft finger tips slipping between your folds. "Feel better now eh?" And when you just nuzzled your nose into his neck and let out a little whimper he chuckled "I'll take tha' as a yes"

Simon swallows his pride for the first time in his life for a chance at hitting it raw. You tell him it's okay to not use protection, that you're on birth control. But you needed to make sure that he didn't have any stds seeing as they're even more of a pain when you're on birth control. Not that you don't trust him you just want to make sure and it's not a problem for him seeing as he has to get tested every other week being in the military.

He doesn't, however, have his records on him at the moment and with a girl already lying in his bed telling him he can cum inside. Plus a raging hard on, he doesn't exactly feel like running back to base to get the paper work. So...next best thing.

"Price-"

"Rare for ya to call on leave Simon, whatchya need?" Price responds, his voice cracking through the face time call, a cigar dangling from his lips.

"Sir I need..." he looks back at you, your eyes expectant and shining. You wanted him and he wasn't going to fuck this up. "Can you send me a picture of my last med check results?" He rushes out the last part, elbow on his knee and hand dragging over his face.

Price quirks one eyebrow but doesn't look like he's going to ask any questions. Unlucky for Simon though, Johnny was also in the room. His voice distantly coming through the phone,

"The feck ya need those for l.t.?" He questioned

Simon just groaned, soap's addition to this call just made it even more frustrating. But he snapped out of his frustration at the sound of price opening his file cabinet. "What part?" Price asked, dismissing Johnny with a wave of his hand.

"The-" Simon began, this was fucking embarrassing but when he looked back to you, now perched on your hands and knees, the plush of you hips resting on your ankles, he'd do anything at this point. "STD results." He responded plainly.

"Aye! No fuckin' way mate!" The sound of a chair scraping the floor could be heard as Johnny began to clammer over to his captain who pulled the sheet from his files.

"Ya didn't tell me he was in the room" Simon growled

"Ya didn't ask" Price droned

Johnny's head popped into frame "show me what she looks like ey l.t?"

"Not happening" Simon deadpanned

"Aw c'monnnn" The sergeant whined "just proud of you for finally getting some action!"

"Enough." Simon could see you biting your lip to stifle a laugh out of the corner of his eyes, a curious look in your eyes at his reddened face.

"Sent a picture to ya Simon" Price huffed, letting Johnny give him one last "good luck!" Before hanging up the phone.

You were a mess of giggles as he just shook his head and shoved the phone results in your face for you to look at. "See. Clean."

"Okay okay" you giggled, finally letting his form eclipse you back onto the pillows

"Went through a hell of a lot of trouble for ya, sweet girl" he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.

"I'll make it worth it" you said, kissing the corner of his lip and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair

"Christ woman" he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at your promise, "gunna' be the death a' me"

[yawnderu]

Birthday Boy — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

content: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

"Hey, big guy." You greet, pushing past him while holding a cake on your arms, setting it down on his desk. He simply gives you a confused look, eyebrows raising under the balaclava, closing the door hesitantly.

"Fucking hell." He mutters softly, arms crossing as he rests his back against the wall, his behemoth frame looking down at you as you steal a lighter from his desk, lighting the candles.

"I know you said you don't do birthdays but I just thought you deserve to have a day for yourself, so I kind of... gave you a birthday, I guess." Your embarrassment grows the more he stares you down, a bashful smile growing on your face when he says nothing. Your attention is grabbed by a deep chuckle coming out of him, shaking his head before he walks over to you, skull gloved fingers gently flicking your forehead.

"Why?" Is all he can ask, curiosity tainting his tone before he lets out a soft groan, looking down at the cake decorated with a messily written "Happy Birthday, Simon" and awfully drawn skulls all over. He wouldn't admit it, but he finds it even more charming.

"Just because." You reply shortly, hands making contact with the thin fabric of his black compression shirt, gently holding him by the biceps, guiding him to a chair in front of his desk where the cake was. He lets you drag him without any complaints.

"I'm gonna sing ya happy birthday, okay?" Your words are met with another groan, his elbows going to the table, face resting on his hands as if this situation is stressing him out. He eventually nods his head, looking up at you.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbles, the fire from the candles making his eyes stand out even more in the dim room, the dark brown now a sweet honey color, showing you just how dilated his pupils are as he looks at you. You sing him happy birthday, making a small show out of it with claps and an overly cheery voice, dragging groan after groan out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing as he tries his best to suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

"Make a wish and blow the candles." You encourage after you're done singing, hands gently massaging his sore shoulders as you excitedly wait for him to comply. And he does, hesitantly getting closer to the cake and not doing anything for a few seconds before blowing the candles. A laugh of pure relief escapes your lips once the candles are off, tapping his shoulders gently before letting go.

"Good man. I made the cake, y'know?" You start cutting the cake, making sure to cut an extra big piece for him— with what little he has told you about himself, you can tell it's been a while since he got celebrated— If it even happened at all.

"I can tell." He replies teasingly, tone full of humor as he gets up and narrowly misses a punch thrown his way. He can't help but let out a small laugh, getting into a playful fighting position, pretending to throw a few punches your way and making a show out of making sound effects for each one. None of his punches connect, of course, but you use the opening he left to smear a little bit of frosting on his arm, making him groan loudly.

"Bloody hell." He grumbles, the cheeky smile you shoot him making him playfully roll his eyes. He eventually settles down, sitting in bed and lifting his balaclava halfway, tasting the sweet treat. He takes his time to savor it, nodding his head in approval as he looks down at you before digging in again.

" 'S good." He praises after another bite, attention now fully on the piece of chocolate cake on his plastic plate. You take this moment to admire the exposed half of his face— his soft jawline and thin pink lips, hints of a stubble covering his cheek and chin, a little bit of his eyeblack tainting his cheeks as well. You feel like a Victorian man seeing ankles, grasping at straws just to admire him.

He gives you a side eye and you look back down at your plate, starting to taste the cake as well, as if you weren't just staring at him like an infatuated hyena. You're too deep in thought to even realize his eyes are on you until you feel his finger smearing frosting on your nose, a laugh of pure disbelief escaping your lips.

"You little cunt—"

[entitled-fangirl]

It's like heaven.

Felix Catton x reader

SMUT

Summary: Felix can't keep his hands off his angel at the party. Smut later in the story.

Words: 1,676

Warnings: p in v, cursing, Oliver being a perv

Author's note: This is from an ask! Y'all are so creative, I love it!!!

Masterlist

18+ please!

.......................................................................

He was utterly speechless.

When he saw her, he was speechless.

She had wanted to surprise him, of course, shooing him from their bedroom when he was finished getting ready for the party so she could get dolled up.

Now, here she stood in a somewhat scandalous piece feeling beautiful, a halo placed on her head for the theme.

He simply stood in the doorway, his jaw dropped.

She saw him in the mirror, whipping around, "Felix! I said to wait until I was done!"

He shook out of his stupor, moving towards her with a smirk, "I forgot my angel wings but JESUS am I glad I came back." He placed his hands on her waist, "I mean, look at you, pretty girl…" His eyes held a look of admiration and lust. 

She stepped back with a giggle, "Not yet. I'm not done. Shoo, Lex…" She then turned around, moving back to finish her eyeliner in the mirror.

He pulled her towards him again, her back hitting his firm abs. His lips began to trace her neck as he looked at her in the mirror, mumbling, "…what is there left to finish, angel?"

She stood when she was satisfied with the eyeliner, turning around in his arms. "…just my shoes. And… I'm no angel."

He smirked leaning down to give a kiss, his voice a slight growl, "you're my angel."

The kiss was sweet and held a lot of emotion, considering how it was soon going to become something more. She pulled away, placing a hand on his chest, "…Lex."

He pulls away with a groan, "Forget the party, beautiful."

She laughs, "No! I got ready for this, Lex. Even if you don't like the birthday boy, we still have to go!"

He would always give in to her. 

He smiles, leaning in towards her again, hands beginning to wander before she stopped him, "What's going on with you tonight?"

"You're just so fucking pretty. My pretty angel. Can't keep my hands to myself."

She reaches down, taking her hand in his before she pulled him out of the bedroom and towards the party.

…

She was sat on Felix's lap when Oliver opened the door.

Felix was sitting on the small table of the overly-crowded bathroom, the pretty angel balanced on one of his thighs. He sighed when he saw Oliver.

"Felix, can I talk to you for one second?"

She looked at Felix to gauge his reaction, seeing that his eyebrows was slightly raised. He then ignores Oliver's question all together, lighting a cigarette, his other hand on his girl's thigh.

Oliver cleared his throat, "You can't ignore me forever."

He immediately rebutted, "I can try."

"Felix, we need to talk." When Felix didn't move, Oliver became insistent, "Felix, come on!"

He sighed, reaching up to place the cigarette between his angel's lips. She gladly accepts, "Look, man, I tried to be nice, but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

The others in the room chuckled at the interaction as they did lines off the table and floor.

Oliver stood in the doorway for a while in thought, his eyes now falling to the angel on Felix's lap. He observed her. Watched her watching him. He then turned, leaving the bathroom.

"Who was that?" Someone asked.

…

"C'mon, Lex. I wanna dance!"

She pulled him through the crowd by his hand, his wings getting hit as he passed by people, muttering quick apologies. 

"Yes, angel, yes. I'll dance with you. Anything to get you close to me."

The music was blaring, the lights overstimulating, but they didn't care. They were two college kids in love, and nothing would stop them.

He pulled her to him, their bodies pressed close together as they began to dance. 

A frown suddenly pulled to her face.

He leaned down, trying to whisper but having to yell to communicated, "Angel? Are you alright?"

She nods, her eyes staring at something in the distance. 

He turned, following her gaze.

Oliver sat at the sidelines, hoarding a bottle all to him, drinking his problem away.

But it wasn't working.

Because he wouldn't quit looking at them.

And now they noticed.

Felix frowned as well, leaning down to her once more, his eyes not leaving Oliver's, "Fuck him. Don't let him ruin this for us."

She turned back to look at him, "I don't know…"

He laughed, "You got all pretty for me, angel! Let me enjoy it for the night, yeah? No need to worry about what's tomorrow's problem!"

She nodded, letting him pull her back to him.

As his hands began to wander, so were his thoughts. 

God, she was pretty. He was blessed by the gods above for sending an angel so pure and kind as this one. His own little pretty girl. His pretty angel.

A song ended, and Felix reached down, grabbing her hand. He started to pull her away, and she wouldn't resist.

…

They walked out towards the maze, holding hands. They exchanged giggles as the alcohol kicked in. 

When they neared the entrance, she stopped, "Do you know what you're doing, Lex?"

He nodded, "'Course, angel. Wouldn't take you here if I didn't." He kissed her head, pulling her once again.

They both entered the maze, happy and in love.

What they didn't know, was that Oliver had entered too.

…

What felt like hours later, and too many turns to count, the two lovers were now in a passionate kiss, their hands wandering over each others bodies. 

He pulled away just enough to speak, "…you want me, angel?"

She nodded, "please…"

He pulled away completely, holding her jaw in his hand, a grin on his face, "I need to hear you say it."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her voice soft, "I want you, Felix. Please."

That was all he needed.

They began to pull at each other's clothes, anything that would separate the two from each other. 

She reached up to pull off her halo, but his hand grabbed her wrist, "Don't."

She smiled into the kiss, pulling at his tank top.

Now, maybe half dressed, Felix pulled her up on to the base of the statue, holding her in place. Their kiss never broke as he began to move his fingers further down her body.

Her mouth opened slightly in an intake of breath as his gently pressed a finger into her core.

He smiled, his voice soft, "You can take it, angel. Feels good, yeah?"

She could only let out a whimper as he began to gently pump it in and out of her.

He whispered in her ear the entire time, his voice slightly gravely with lust, "Good… doing so good… stretching you out for me, baby… sweet girl…"

When two fingers were added, she pushed her head into his shoulder to avoid making too much noise.

He found it all amusing, watching her eyes close in concentration as her throat made small noises in pleasure.

When she was finally considered ready by his standards, he gently pulled his cock out. It was already hard at this point. It had been almost the entire night after seeing her in the outfit. 

He grabbed at her jaw again, "You're very sure, angel?"

She was a begging mess, her mind already mush, "please, Lex. Make me feel good, please…"

He smiled, "Anything for my angel."

He gently pushed his cock into her, both letting out a small hiss. 

She grabbed his biceps tightly, her eyes strunched a bit, trying to relax herself. 

His hand were on the bottom of her thighs, giving himself leverage, "… doing so good for me…"

He stopped when he bottomed out, giving her a moment to collect herself and adjust. He used this moment to kiss her neck softly, "God, being in you is like heaven."

And he began to thrust.

She let out small, soft little grunts and moans, her hands moving over his body in search of where to find relief. One hand eventually found his hair, pulling slightly as he let out a small, "oh, fuck."

Only the sound of skin pressed against one another was heard throughout the heart of the maze. 

"You're my angel… such a pretty little angel, aren't you?"

She whimpered, his cock hitting her g spot just right. 

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you… ugh… good girl… cum for me…"

Her voice was barely heard, "…Lex…."

He grinned, his lips still kissing at her neck, "C'mon, pretty girl. You can give me one-"

Oliver's voice came from the bushes where they entered, "Felix…"

Felix stopped, staring at his sweet little angel, whose eyes were wide with fear. He sighed, "Oh, Jesus Christ!" He pulled his pants back to their original position, zipping them up. He turned around, covering her body with himself, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you?"

She placed a hand on Felix's back, her head peering over his shoulder, "Were you spying on us?"

"No, I wasn't." He began to walk forward. 

Felix stood a bit taller, continuing to block Oliver's view. "Mate, let the fucking lady get dressed. You sick fuck."

Oliver held his hands up, turning himself around. 

Felix quickly turned, helping his angel get redressed. 

Once done, he pulled her to him, gently kissing the top of her head. He leaned towards her, whispering in her ear once more, "…go to the bedroom. I'll be there."

She nodded, her eyes filled slightly with tears. She walked forward, going to move past Oliver.

Oliver reached out a grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to him, "May want to fix that." He straightened the halo on her head, watching her nervous reaction, "Wouldn't want people to think you're naughty, do you?"

Felix stepped forward, his voice dark and threatening, "Oliver…"

Oliver let go of the girl, a slight smirk on his face. 

She left the maze to go to the bedroom, having no idea Felix would never see his angel again. 

........................................................

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, fluff

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 ⋆ PT 6 ⋆ PT 7

English professor Nanami places your final essay grade-side down on your desk. He holds down the corner with his index finger. He notes the way your hands tremble to turn it over with an expression that he hopes resembles his baseline stoicism.

He waits until your eyes rise to meet his over the rims of his glasses to say, in the most infuriatingly neutral tone imaginable, "Please see me after class."

"Yes, sir," you nod, hoping he doesn't notice the tremulous quality of your voice.

He fights to maintain his air of neutrality when he hears the rustle of the paper followed by your sharp exhalation when you see the red "98" scrawled in the corner. It's hard, fighting the thrill that crawls up his spine, hearing you gasp like that and knowing that he caused it. He pushes the feeling down. Feelings like that are totally inappropriate.

Professor Nanami doesn't hand out A's. Especially not on his infamous final paper. But you? You are exceptional. Your writing, that is.

You're the kind of writer who pours her soul onto the page. Little pieces of you were hidden in the spaces between every word you wrote for his class. You gave everything, and he had inadvertently collected it. Stored it away. Built a fascinating, inescapable idea of you. And he couldn't let it go at the end of the semester. Your talent, that is. He couldn't let your talent go. That's why he is offering you the coveted work-study position as his assistant. His interest, purely academic, of course.

That's why he doesn't notice the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your sweater hangs off of one shoulder as you slowly pack up your things, waiting for the room to empty. He doesn't pay any particular attention to the smooth column of your neck, the line of your collarbone above the swell of your breast. His pulse doesn't quicken at the way your nervous teeth tug at your bottom lip as you finally approach his desk after the last of your classmates have departed.

Professor Nanami does smile, however, when you lean forward, nodding before he can even get the offer all the way out of his mouth. He can't help it. "Yes sir, thank you for the opportunity, sir," you say, breathless. It's beyond gratifying to see you so eager.

You've been eager to please him all semester. He could see it in the nervous pistoning of your leg under your front-row desk when he handed back assignments. It was mirrored in the shine of your eyes, the flush of your cheek at his every utterance of, 'Well done.'

"I really can't thank you enough," you say, hands trembling as you reach out to take the key to his office and the card with his number on it. Goodness, are those tears in your eyes?

Professor Nanami extends his hand for you to shake when you both stand to go, but he doesn't reject the friendly hug you offer instead. Perhaps he should have, judging by the way his head swims with the clean, sweet scent of your hair. But he couldn't bear to disappoint you. He simply ignores the way your body feels, lightly pressed against him. It was only a couple of seconds, easily forgotten. Should have been, anyway.

Professor Nanami is thankful, for once, that winter break is short.

[irisintheafterglow]

co-parenting a dog with pro!katsuki means having horrendously wrapped christmas presents.

"hey, kats?" you're about to open the door to the living room when he quickly calls out a warning.

"don't come in here right now!" your hand hovers over the door handle, eyebrows pinching in confusion.

"is something wrong?"

"wrapping presents," he replies with the tiniest air of frustration. you think you hear a hissed move, damn it! but figure it's just the sound of the heater roaring to life.

"i thought we agreed we would wrap each other's presents when the other wasn't home," you point out and you get a grunt of assent. you take it as permission. "i'm gonna open the door now--"

"don't! 'm not done yet!" there's whispering and shuffling on the other side of the door but you genuinely can't make out what the urgency is all about.

"bakugo katsuki, i have literally seen you shit-faced wasted," you command. "i don't care about your wrapping paper job, so i'm gonna open the door now." before he can implore you to wait, you appear in the doorway and pause.

now what the hell is going on here?

on his knees in the living room with two hands shoved under your gigantic shepherd mix's butt, katsuki freezes and both the dog and your boyfriend's eyes go wide. it takes you a second to process what's happening here, before realizing where your dog decided to rest her body. you burst out laughing unexpectedly, a loud, echoing laugh that bounces off the kitchen cabinets.

"are you trying to lift my damn dog?" katsuki gapes in protest.

"she sat on the wrapping paper and i can't get her off!" he narrows his eyes in thought for a moment. "also, she's our damn dog. i have to deal with her as much as you do."

"i'm not so much dealing with her as i am living with her," you say, making kissy noises to beckon the dog off the paper. it wrinkles and tears holes under her paws and she smacks katsuki with her fluffy tail as she approaches you for much-needed affection. "look at you, puppy. is katsuki being a meanie?"

"she started it," he huffs, sitting back against the couch. "tried to tell her to stay on her bed, but she would just come over and be a bother."

"i was on a work call for an hour, and you can't get the dog to stay in one place?" he shrugs a broad shoulder and you crawl over to sit beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"did you try moving her bed over here?"

"yeah, and she just wanted to sit on the paper anyway, so there was no point." your dog completes the trio and lies down next to you, putting her head in your lap. you can feel his irritation radiating under his black long sleeve, the way his cheeks were slightly red with indignance.

"why're you frustrated, baby?"

"the paper looks like shit now, but every time i yell at her to move, she flinches away and looks sad," he mumbles in deep thought. "i don't wanna scare her, but i also wanna just wrap the damn presents."

"maybe she wants to help," you offer.

"she ain't got thumbs, sweetheart," he deadpans.

"how about you keep her occupied and i'll do the paper job myself? that way we're all engaged in some way." your boyfriend considers this for a minute before a small smirk appears on his face, glancing at the dog resting on your legs.

"i think i have a better idea."

when it comes time for the class 1a's annual christmas celebration, they watch bakugo lay out a crumpled piece of wrapping paper in the middle of the floor. before they can ask what he's doing, he motions to the dog and she happily lays down, ready to be included in whatever holiday festivities were occurring.

[awearywritersworld]

there can be no covenants between men and lions

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: sukuna would rather contemplate your murder than come to terms with his feelings for you, but you call him out on his bullshit. w/c: 3k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. aged up!yuuji. heavy kissing. features yuuji x reader and he is, of course, best boy. cursing. sukuna decides he wants to kill you (so obviously there are mentions of murder and such) but cant even stand the sight of you upset, what a goof. i'd once again like to think sukuna's not too ooc in this but im still more than likely delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i was so touched by all of the love that part one received, i wanted to try my hand at part two. i hope i've done it justice! just as part one references homer's the odyssey, this references homer's the illiad because sukuna is very hot and well read. achilles, the protagonist of the novel, is discussed. i'm definitely open to writing a part three, because this one is much heavier on the angst and i miss soft sukuna from part one. series masterlist // masterlist

you and yuuji rarely argue, but when you do, it's often over his aversion toward seriousness, even when a situation calls for it. though you really should have kept your mouth shut, because in this moment, you'd give anything to see his typical carefree expression.

his eyes are regarding you intently, taking in your flustered appearance with knitted brows.

"yuuji..." you trail off, wracking your brain for an explanation of your current predicament.

despite the fact he regained control of his body only moments ago, one of his hands is curled around the back of your neck, while the other is resting on your hip.

"baby, what happened?" he presses, the tone of his voice entirely unreadable.

"s-sukuna," is all you can manage to choke out.

his eyes darken immediately, his jaw tensing in a way that intimidates you. "he hurt you."

you really can't tell if it's a question or a statement, and your response comes a little too quickly. "no! that's not... no."

the next few seconds tick by in a slow sort of agony, heat creeping up your cheeks.

he notices for the first time that his head is eerily quiet. no snide remarks, no scathing commentary. just his own thoughts as he pieces together the situation.

his gaze drops to the angry, red marks littering your neck and you watch in helpless horror as understanding passes his features.

"oh."

the word hangs in the air as you await his reaction, fully anticipating disgust and betrayal. you're positive it's only a matter of time before he throws you out of the apartment and tells you to never come back.

what you don't expect, however, is the way his shoulders relax as the tension leaves his face.

he straightens himself, arms falling to his sides, but he doesn't put any distance between your bodies.

"how long have you...?" he's not quite sure how to phrase the question.

"a few months. this was the first time anything... um... happened. we usually just talk."

he tilts his head to the side, so you clarify. "after you've fallen asleep."

mulling over the information, he hums in response, looking thoughtful for a few more seconds. then, his usual demeanor is back and he grabs your hand. "wanna get dinner? i'm starving!"

he tugs you a few feet toward the door before you come to your senses. "woah, woah. wait a second, yu."

when he looks back at you expectantly, you find that his face holds not one hint of bitterness or judgement. "aren't you angry?"

you're amazed to find that he's the one looking sheepish.

"how could i be? it's not exactly easy to be with me when i have a thousand year old curse rattling around in my body, but you stay anyway," he expresses, making your heart soften. "i just want you to be safe, so i'll take whatever relationship the two of have now over him being a threat to you."

as your hands reach up to cradle his face and your eyes sparkle with adoration, you briefly wonder how you ever found such a sweet man. he places a quick kiss to your lips, the smile on his face easy going as ever. "sooooo, i'm thinking takoyaki or maybe udon—"

"we can get whatever you want," you glance at the spatters of blood across his chest left there from the mission, no doubt from sukuna's careless slaughter. "as long as you go wash up first."

"right!" he agrees quickly, bounding off to the bathroom.

you stand alone in the middle of your living room, left with the ghost of both yuuji and sukuna's lips against yours and a sense of bewildered excitement.

back in his prison, however, sukuna is furious with himself. he should have let you die that day he kept you from being run over. better yet, he should have killed you with his own hands before the brat won back control of his body.

he is a terrible being that delights in carnage, a fact that's well known even centuries later. so why, when he could have done anything in the world, did he go to you? you even asked that same question before you—

he rejects the memory of you pressing your lips to his disdainfully.

your foolishness and your naivete are revolting. your softness and your pliancy are nauseating.

he shouldn't have been anywhere near you, if not to rip your obnoxious heart from your chest like he'd always planned. it was a situation he'd dreamt about and now it's slipped through his fingers, even though those same fingers had graced your fragile little neck.

you were nothing more than a clueless mouse in the jaws of a snake, and though the pains of hunger have been tearing at its stomach for years now, the serpent let itself starve.

sukuna retreats to his domain, fingers prodding at his temples irritably. he allows himself to wallow for a few hours, shutting out both you and the brat.

then, steeling his resolve, he begins to watch and wait like the predator he knows himself to be.

lulled into a false sense of security regarding your safety, it's clear that yuuji has let his guard down. just barely so, but enough that sukuna can see a few weaknesses in his chains. ironic seeing that, now more than ever, the king of curses wants you dead.

it goes without saying that he promptly ceases his nightly interactions with you. it's beneath him, wasting his time with a human. he knows that now.

but while he may not speak to you, he cannot refrain from stealing glances as the days stretch on. you're usually reading, completely oblivious to his watchful eye. he convinces himself it's simply to keep tabs on you, as he's deemed you his foremost enemy.

he's not sure how much time has passed when you begin calling out for him in hushed whispers after yuuji falls asleep, the hurt and confusion in your voice plain to him. it's irksome, and evidently, you're incapable of taking a hint.

his silence becomes more painful with each turn of the moon. you're a bit mortified to find that you genuinely miss him, so you just want answers. did he finally realize that you're nothing special, not worth bothering with?

eventually, growing restless, you all but beg him. "sukuna, please. talk to me. what happened? what'd i do wrong?" his chest tightens with what he believes is vexation. "you can't just make me like you and then disappear. you can't kiss me like that and then—"

"you insolent, maddening little creature!" his eye flies open just in time to see you gasp, your body jerking away from him. "shut up already! can't you see i want nothing to do with you? don't you tire of being pathetic?"

you don't dignify him with a response, swallowing thickly and turning away from him.

finally, he thinks, some fucking quiet. though if he's gotten what he wanted, why does his chest still ache?

he stares at the back of your form until the sun rises.

sukuna is no simpleton. he can be patient when he is sure of a reward, but he's thrilled that the perfect opportunity arises just two days after your encounter.

yuuji is exhausted. gojo kept him out all last night, despite the grueling mission he had today, and when he all but stumbles through your apartment door, the moon is already high in the sky.

you never mention the change in your relationship with sukuna to yuuji. even though he was so understanding, you still feel a touch awkward discussing it further. and maybe in the back of your mind, you're holding out hope that it might go back to the way it was.

sukuna watches through yuuji's eyes when you greet him, your expression half concern and half 'i told you so'. nights out with gojo usually lead to this very situation.

he showers while you finish cooking dinner and once you both eat, he helps you clean up despite his exhaustion. after whispering his thanks and pressing a kiss to your temple, he retires to bed.

you promise you'll join him soon, but sukuna knows it probably isn't true. following his outburst, you've taken to staying in the living room until you're ready to sleep.

yuuji's out before his head hits the pillow and nearly two hours later, you're still not in bed. sukuna's eager, but waits until he's sure the brat's deep in his slumber before he tries to take over. it's relatively easy, and he pushes down yuuji's unconscious mind as far as he can before rising to his feet.

this is finally it. he stretches his limbs lazily, a dangerous smirk settling on his lips. the floor creaks with each step he takes, but he pays no mind to stealth. you're no match for him.

tonight, you'll be his first victim of many and the thought of making up for his past misjudgement has him giddy with excitement.

but the sight that greets him upon exiting the bedroom— you curled into yourself on the couch, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs— it stops him in his tracks.

he wants to move, more than anything, so what the fuck is wrong with him? is the brat taking over already?

and why is that uncomfortable sensation making it's home in the center of his chest once more?

when you notice his presence, your face shifts to him and reveals your wide, teary eyes. it's clear you're surprised by his appearance, but you quickly bury your face in your knees.

you just want him to leave you alone. you hate him for what he said, for what he did. he forced his way into your life, made you care about him, and then he just vanished. he's cruel and you feel like an idiot because you should have known that from the beginning. or maybe you did and he just made you forget.

"go away. i.. i don't want to see you."

he's disbelieving, for a brief moment, that here you are giving him orders while he stands in the doorway with the intention of taking your life.

he moves toward you, invading your space in a way that is meant to be intimidating, but when you look up at him, every emotion ranging from sadness to rejection to indignation is etched into your features. though the terror he hoped to inspire is noticeably absent.

"i said go away!" you swiftly stand up, your hands meeting squarely with his chest as you push him with every ounce of power you have.

you may as well have shoved a brick wall, as he doesn't move even a fraction of an inch. he seizes one of your wrists anyway.

"what is it you think you're doing, exactly?" he spits.

"let go of me!" you beat against his chest with the hand he left free until his fingers wrap around that wrist too.

"enough."

he's certain there isn't a being that has attacked him (if he can even call that an attack) and lived to speak of it, not once in an entire millennia.

so just end the insolent brat and be done with it, he urges himself.

but he can't and he doesn't understand why, so he just stares down at you.

"what the fuck do you want?" you mean for it to come out forcefully and full of spite, but your voice cracks before you can finish.

an excellent question, indeed. what does he want?

he doesn't answer you and it's so goddamn frustrating that you begin to cry again, rambling to fill the discomforting silence. "you've already told me i'm pitiful and annoying. it's clear you think my company is insufferable, that i'm undesirable—"

that ache in his chest is unbearable now. it claws at his ribcage and shreds the flesh of his heart. it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and rings shrilly in his ears. he can't even hear you anymore, but he can still see the tears sliding down your cheeks and the way you gasp between words.

the truth of the matter crashes down on him and the devastating weight of it is so crushing it squeezes the air from his lungs.

that feeling in his chest isn't annoyance or repugnance. its anguish— the kind that rattles his bones and leaves him sick with regret.

it's because you're in pain, and worse yet, he is the cause of it.

sukuna pushes you back against the wall before you can comprehend what's happening. his hands find either side of your face and you're alarmed to find that he looks... frightened.

"what are you doing to me?" he pleads for an explanation, because he sure as hell doesn't have one.

how can one little human hold such power over him? it's unnatural. it defies all logic and reason.

you stare at him, open mouthed. his face is so close that his breath fans across your skin and it makes you feel dizzy.

"what are you talking about?" you finally ask.

"you should be dead right now," he frets, despair seeping into every word. "it should be easy."

it dawns on you that you should probably feel afraid, but you just don't. his touch is firm, but careful. and there's no malice to be found behind his eyes. "you're not making any sense."

he thinks back on the time you've spent together, trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here— him at your mercy, rather than you at his. he remembers the first time he made you laugh and considers that it may have been the beginning of his unraveling. for the following two weeks, you both discussed homer at length as you made your way through his poetry.

"there can be no covenants between men and lions. wolves and lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other through and through." you blink at him, recognizing at once that he's quoting the illiad. his voice is low and unsteady in a way that suggests desperation. it makes you shiver. "therefore there can be no understanding between you and me, nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall fall."

your eyes narrow as you begin to understand his his internal struggle, though you're unsure if he's attempting to reason with you or with himself.

"you quote achilles, and rightfully so i suppose, given your common qualities— exasperating pride and a penchant for meaningless violence." he looks relieved, like your seeming agreement eases his mind. it's short lived. "but you forget his passion."

his gaze shifts away from you, his hands withdrawing from your face.

"his passion?" he repeats as if it's the most incredulous thing he's ever heard.

"by the end of the story, is he not acquainted with regret, sympathy, and respect? he doesn't remain blind to the error of his ways forever."

"only a foolish human could make such fanciful deductions," he chides through gritted teeth, still refusing to meet your eye.

you actually laugh at him. "perhaps you shouldn't call upon achilles to make your point after all. at least he grows out of his utterly childish view of the world."

"how dare you?" he demands, his features growing wild as one hand finds your throat (his touch not nearly harsh enough to cause you any discomfort), the other colliding with the wall beside your head. his display doesn't fool you though. "you witless, wretched brat! you're nothing more than a blip in a universe you cannot even begin to understand. you sicken me."

you throw achilles' words in his face just as easily as he did to you. "hateful to me as the gates of hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another."

his gaze hardens, and for a split second, you think you may have been mistaken in your fearlessness, but then his fingers thread themselves through your hair and he pulls your lips to his.

it's rough and commanding, and he tells himself it's only to get you to shut up. to wipe that expression of smug pity from your face.

it's not because, despite the fact you know how awful he is, you're convinced there's something salvageable in him too. nor is it because you tyrannize his every passing thought. and it's certainly not because the feeling of you pressed against him brings him more satisfaction than ripping the hearts from the chests of a hundred men.

ultimately, his denial is overshadowed by his desire. your touch is nothing short of needy as you tug at his shirt, an attempt to bring him even closer, and god does he hope that means you feel just as desperate as he does. he deserves at least a little consolation.

as his hands roam every valley and curve of your body, he deems it unfair that a being whose very existence spells hell on earth should be so taken with such a devastatingly divine creature.

"i've wanted you so terribly," he mumbles against your mouth before he can stop himself.

"then fuck you for making us both wait," you breath out.

his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips in response and his lips shift to your neck. "watch that pretty little mouth of yours, brat."

he nips at the spot just below your ear hard enough that it makes you gasp, doubtless a punishment for your impudence. you recover quickly though, wasting no time with your flippant reply. "or what? you'll go back to plotting my murder?"

he pulls away from you abruptly, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. "you truly have zero sense of self preservation, don't you?"

"guess so," you shrug, smiling at him bashfully. "can we watch a movie? i'll even let you pick."

you ask as if it's the most normal request in the world. as if he isn't a thousand year old curse that would be off turning the city to ash were he not here with you instead.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the ridiculousness of it all. "fine."

[rafesfavgirl]

her lips on your neck — j. maybank

meant to have this up last night, but i got fucked up lolz

❝ since you admitted it, i keep picturing her lips on your neck, i can't unsee it ❞

pairing: cheater!jj x fem!reader

context: late at night, you get back to the obx from a week-long trip to new york with your parents and decide to surprise your boyfriend and best friends.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: cheating (i don't condone it!!), might break you, no happy ending, ANGST ANGST ANGST

"what the fuck are we suppose to tell y/n?" you hear pope mention your name, as he sat with john b in the enclosed back porch of the chateau and immediately stop yourself from joining them, curious as to what else they had to say.

"dude, i don't know," john b shrugged at him, the expression on his face looking as if he was torn between some hard decision.

what could they possibly be talking about?

"i mean, it's not like they meant for it to happen, right?" john b continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.

"do you really think she'll see it that way?" pope asks him. "jj just slept with kie."

john b winces at pope's words like they were too hard for him to hear and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your eyes becoming blurry with tears as anger starts coursing through your veins.

"we gotta tell her," pope adds.

they didn't even hear that you'd entered the porch, now only standing a few feet away from them.

"you just did." the sound of your voice causes them to snap their heads towards you, both of them now completely at a loss for words. "is jj here?" you speak slowly to stop your voice from shaking.

when neither of them reply and just exchange glances, you repeat yourself. "where's. jj."

"y/n…" john b starts to stand from his seat, but you don't let him finish or get any closer, before you're barging into the chateau.

you feel your body shake as jj comes out of one of the rooms chuckling and pulling his muscle tank down.

"you didn't," you shake your head as he looks at you.

"y/n…"

when kiara comes out of the same room and steps up behind him, you get your answer.

"you did," you say, your eyes shifting from kie to jj.

"babe, i-" jj begins, taking a step towards you.

"no," you immediately cut him off and hold a hand out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer. “we’re done.”

that was two weeks ago. you hadn’t seen jj, or your friends since then, actively trying to avoid them as much as possible. that didn’t stop them from texting though.

john b and pope have checked in every now and then to make sure you’re doing okay, while kie and jj blow your phone up 24/7 with empty apologies.

j<3: i’m outside. please let me explain.

you stare at the text on your phone for a second and hop to your feet to peek out the window, where surely enough, you saw jj perched against his bike on the curb of your front lawn, waiting.

letting out a deep sigh and against your better judgment, you walk towards the front door and open it, only to find that he had walked up your front porch and was about to knock.

“hey…” his voice is small, and his baby blue eyes light up at the sight of you, making your heart ache.

by the prominent eye bags under them, you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but wasn’t that how it should have been? he was the one who cheated on you.

you don’t say a word and just turn to walk further into your living room, jj following after you and shutting the door.

“i know you don’t owe me anything,” he continues, as you turn to look at him again, your arms crossed across your chest.

“you’re right, i don’t,” you say, trying to be cold.

it was hard, though. there was a piece of your heart that still yearned for him. a piece that you had a feeling would love him forever. no matter how badly he’s just screwed you over.

“why’d you do it?” you ask.

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “i don’t know why i did it. we were drinking… and talking… you weren’t here, and i- i guess we just…”

“what?” you feel your hand start to shake as he tried to come up with an excuse. “got caught up in the moment?”

“y- yeah…” he glances down, and you scoff.

“god, i am such an idiot!” you run your hands through your hair and take a seat on the armchair behind you.

“y/n that’s not…” he slowly approaches you while you shake your head at him.

“i should’ve known,” you say. “it was her before me.”

jj shakes his head as he closes the distance between the two of you and crouches down in front of you, a hand landing on your knee. “baby, that’s not true.”

you glance at his hand on your knee before looking at him again. “but it is.”

“look, i fucked up, okay?” he said, his tone desperate now. “i know that. but please… please believe me when i tell you that it was a mistake. and it’s never going to happen again.”

“how can i believe that?” you ask, tears threatening to brim along your lower lashes. 

“just trust me,” he tells you.

a bitter scoff falls from your lips as you stand up and cross the room, half angry and half confused, not knowing what to think or believe.

“i did trust you, j!” you say, turning to look at him again with tears in your eyes as he gets up from his crouching position and faces you. “and you screwed me over anyway.”

“y/n…” he walks towards you, and you feel your weight shift to one foot, your body feeling a little limp. 

there was a part of you that still loved him—feelings don’t disappear just like that—but you knew you deserved better. that there was someone out there who wouldn’t even think about doing what he did.

"i love you…" he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and push your hair back, your first instinct causing you to lean into his touch, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you lock your eyes with his. "pretty girl." he closes the distance between you two, his forehead resting against yours, a tear trailing down your cheek as you closed your eyes. "i am so so so sorry. i promise— i promise, i won't ever hurt you again."

you wanted nothing more than to believe him. to forgive him. to forget. but you knew, deep down, that wasn't possible.

you shake you hear against his, sniffling. "j, i can't…"

"no, no, no," he replied. "you can. you— you have to, i can't-" he tilts his chin upwards to kiss you, and though you want desperately to let him, you push him away.

"no, jj!" you shout. "you— you can't just kiss me and think it's all gonna go away!"

"okay, okay, i'm not," he backs off a little, and then takes your hands in his, baby blues pleading. "but you need to forgive me. i could never live with myself if you didn't. i— i can't go on without you… without…" he brings your hands together and clasps his hands around them as he brings them up to his lips to kiss them softly. "your touch…" he moves a hand towards your cheek again, caressing it just like last time. "your smile…" he trails it across your collar bone and down your arm to place it on your chest. "your love… god, y/n i’ve never been loved by anyone like you."

his face falls limp against you and he drops to his knees, arms immediately locking around your hips as he rests the side of his head against you.

"please… please forgive me," his voice sounds desperate now, breaking your heart even more.

"i— i can't…" you wrap your hands around his arms and try to pull him off you, but it doesn't work—he just clutches onto you tighter. "you're just not the same person to me anymore…" you shake your head. "the jj i fell for would've never ever done anything to hurt me, but now…" you bring your hands up to your head, trying to keep it together. "god! every time i look at you… all i see is her and what you did… i— i just keep picturing you guys together and-"

"and we can fix that," jj pulls away and gets back on his feet to look at you. "i mean, it's gon' take time, but eventually… you— you can forget it, right?"

there was a hopeful look in his eyes, but you knew that wasn't enough to fix things.

you shake your head and sigh, the hope in his eyes immediately diminishing. "no, i don't think i can."

"but that— that would mean that this…" his voice cracks, his mind clearly in disarray as he motions a hand between you two. "no. this can't be over."

your watery eyes lock with his, which were now red from holding back tears. "then why is it?"

if you happen to also be a rafe girl, consider this part 2 & part 3.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

[zyafics]

HIII!!! I love ur writing sm <3 If you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do one about a reporter reader who used to date Rafe but they broke up and now she has to interview him??? Set in college if possible! Thank you so much! I hope you're having a good day 🥰

hi baby! yes, i do take requests and i absolutely love this one 🥰 i made reader work for a network company but she's still in college and he plays basketball! (but fair warning, i know absolutely nothing about basketball so if i got the terminologies wrong, look away!!) i hope you enjoy <3 this is angsty as fuck

ALL FOR THE GAME | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot) | College Basketball Player x Ex!Reporter!Female Reader .ᐟ

Content — college au, athlete/reporter, prior breakup, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort

Word Count — 4.2K

You couldn't believe it.

It's considered lucky. For someone in your position—having received this entry-level job a couple of weeks ago—to have the opportunity to interview an athlete. In fact, many people would call it a great honor.

And it is. Under normal circumstances, you would be more than happy to oblige—elated, even—because people at this stage in your career rarely get such an opening. Especially since you're in college, fully prepared for this internship to be nothing more than grunt work.

Yet, this? This would allow you to advance your career at an expedited rate only offered to nepotism. You should be thrilled, overcome with joy, jumping at your feet and thanking whatever deity you believed in for such a chance.

But you don't.

Because the person to interview is Rafe.

Rafe Cameron, the top prospect of the NBA draft picks.

Rafe Cameron, your ex-boyfriend.

Your boss waits for an answer. He proposed the question a few moments ago, about covering the press conference for the last game of the season. Because of a sick reporter who called out at the last minute, your objective is to build a profile on Rafe Cameron. Since he's the leading prospect, with scouts all over the country looking at him, many people want to know more about the rising all-star who's done nothing but dominate the court.

This proposal, however, was done more out of common courtesy. No one would be stupid enough to say no, and when your boss raises a brow, signifying his manifesting annoyance from your silence and lack of celebratory cheers—you stammer.

"Um, um," you say.

"Um, what?" He prompts. "Will you be doing it or not?"

You shouldn't. There are many reasons why you shouldn't attend Rafe's basketball games. There's resentment because when you step back into that arena, back onto that court, you're reminded of how Rafe picked it over you. There's lingering sadness, residing heavily against the back of your heart, dulled from the passage of time, but not completely forgotten. And lastly, there's anger, because sometimes, all you want to do is scream, cry, and yell at the man who shattered your heart into a billion different pieces.

But that doesn't matter, does it?

Romance has no place in a reporter's life because you're nothing more but a projection for the audience, a vessel for the readers to learn about something else. You don't have feelings; you're a prop. And, certainly, it doesn't matter to your boss, who's only asking you because you're the last choice.

"Well?"

Seconds away from retracting the offer, something in your chest tightens. Logically, you know the choice to make. But your heart doesn't agree. It still hurts, aches, and burns at all of the past memories. It wants nothing more than to bury itself in a hole and pretend that such a critical part of your history does not exist.

But you can't. Life only moves forward. So, all you do is move with it.

"I'll do it."

By the time you arrive at the stadium, all you want to do is run. Anxiety pricks at your spine and your palms grow clammy by your side. Everything inside you is blaring like a warning, cautioning that this is a mistake, that you aren't ready, and that you should turn back.

Despite the badge dangling around your neck, you almost listen. Put your career on hold for a man who hasn't given a single thought about you since the breakup. You can't let him win, and with that reminder, you move with the mob, flocking to their seats.

The atmosphere is charged with exhilaration, and you're reminded of everything before. It's automatic. How easy it is for you to return to old patterns, to follow them, and to find yourself trickling down the steps and towards the courtside seats reserved for family and friends of the team.

Until a hand is placed on your lower back, and a security guard guides you to the press box instead.

It's quieter. The enclosure of the room dulls the energy of the crowd, with a thick sheet of glass separating you from the rest of the people, and reminding you of your purpose.

You take a seat on a cushioned chair, reserved for your network, and look around the place. You're among the most seasoned reporters in their field, chatting with one another, familiarity engulfing the air that somewhat alienates you. They pay you little mind—saved for a curious-yet-judgmental glance at how you wore a jersey compared to their formal suits and pencil skirts. When you follow their line of vision, you realize it wasn't an ordinary merch of the UNC team but Rafe's.

"Fuck," you mumble. You hadn't realized you picked out his jersey; it was left in the back of your closet and you couldn't see yourself attending your college's game without a visual form of support. This probably appears to the rest of the journalists that you're nothing more than a superfan who managed to weasel their way into their network.

It makes your stomach flips with nausea. You want to separate Rafe from you as much as possible, and with a quick run to the bathroom, you change out of the merch and throw it over your tote, straightening out your blouse underneath. When you return, the players are slowly filling out to court.

The visitors' team enters first; UNC follows. You count each player that exits the locker room, watching their expressions as they grin and absorb the energy of their home stadium, as they walk down the length of the bench, as they talk among themselves and share playful jests and banter. You didn't even know you were holding your breath until Rafe stepped out last, to the loudest cheer of the crowd, with a solemn look on his face.

You watch as Rafe searches the stands. Not in the same manner as his teammates, where they're acknowledging fans, or sending flirtatious winks to pretty girls sitting front row. It's different— with purpose. He's searching for something—someone—and your heart clenches in your chest at the thought of Rafe having found your replacement.

But it's been months, hasn't it? It should be more than fair game for him to date whatever he wants. You can still act professionally with this developing news, but it's striking down at your armor.

However, whoever he's looking for, he doesn't find. Rafe goes to huddle with the rest of his team as their Coach gives a final motivational speech before releasing them.

The game starts with a tip-off, and once the referee throws the ball in the air, Rafe takes it into his possession.

He sprints across the court, slicing through the opponent players, and scoring points on the board. Rafe is powerful, knowing exactly when to exchange his hands and pass to his teammates, where exactly to cut through, and when to commit to a play. Commentary heard from the built-in speakers can attest to it, as their primary focus is on how Rafe is taking the last game of the season by storm.

But, while everyone's eyes are glued to the game, as much as you try not to, you can't do anything but stare at Rafe.

He's just as incredible as he was when you were dating him; if not, more. In some way, it makes your heart tighten, knowing that this validates his reason for the breakup. You just wish he felt some semblance of the pain you feel. But as much as you hate it, you're also proud. Rafe has come so far, and trained so hard, to make it to where he is. If he secures a win for the last game, it will be nothing but a guaranteed track to the NBA and luxuries and fame ahead.

All without you.

By the time the game ended, Rafe scored the last shot in a close game, delivering the end of the conference with a secured UNC victory. Everyone in the press box stands from their seats, heading to the media room where they'll be meeting a panel of UNC athletes for questions.

Yet, you linger. You step up to the glass, watching as the erupted cheers of the audience surround the entire stadium, much to the glee of the UNC team, while Rafe stands in the middle of the court for a few seconds, soaking everything in. His eyes pan across the bleachers again, in search for something, before his expression falls and he retreats to the locker room.

When you enter the room of journalists, you slip into a seat. It'll be a while before the players come shuffling in, and you take each second to rehearse and calm your nerves. In one hand, is a tape recorder, while the other is a notepad of the written questions you plan to ask.

UNC's Publicist steps out first to provide an official statement and give a brief overview of the conduct of this press conference. She'll be the moderator, giving everyone enough time to ask all of their questions, and she'll be selecting the networks to her own accord. After everyone comes to the general consensus, the door opens and the Coach steps out with his players.

You watch with bated breath as Rafe is the last to enter, freshly showered and changed into grey sweatpants with a matching UNC zip-up jacket. His headphones dangles around his neck, while his expression exudes nothing but boredom and reluctance. Rafe has always hated interviews, especially post-games, during your relationship. At least that's the one thing that hasn't changed.

You drop your gaze to your lap, swallowing hard as you calm your racing heartbeat. It's been months, yet you still feel the same emotions coursing through you as if no time has passed—longing, hurt, sadness. You whisper positive affirmations, reminding yourself that it's just a job, and that'll be short and simple. You won't even have to speak to Rafe, because your boss may have said to find out more about Rafe Cameron for your profile, nowhere did he say you have to ask him specifically.

When Rafe sits on his chair, he lazily scans the room, a habit of his to pass the time, before he spots you among the crowd. In the third row, second seat; your favorite choice to sit. You don't see it, but a corner smile lifts to his face, demeanor changing, and he straightens up in his seat.

Throughout the conference, the publicist hands the microphone off to whoever she selects. They often direct their questions at Rafe, to which he gives monosyllabic and deadpanned answers. Then, when they try to seek more clarification, Rafe gives them nothing, much to their grimness.

You keep your head low, writing down notes, and drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Anything to avoid making accidental eye contact with Rafe. But, regardless, you feel him. The heat of his stare remains on you the entire time, especially when the publicist approach you and hands you the microphone.

It’s time.

With trembling hands, you stand from your seat. You turn your attention to the front of the panel, introducing yourself, your network, and your job. Smiles spread across Rafe's teammates as they recognize you, and you offer a polite one of your own.

Beginning at the furthest player at the end of the table, you ask, "How would you describe Mr. Cameron as a teammate?"

He grins as if he was prepared for this. "Rafe's an incredible teammate and captain. He's a capable leader, who's strong on the court, but also strong on having his teammates' back. You saw it back there—" That earns a small laugh from the reporters. "But, yeah. Rafe's one of my favorite teammates, if I'm being honest."

You tilt your head at that conclusion, because, if you remember correctly, in freshman year, he often rivaled with Rafe and got into fights over minor things. Regardless, you nod, thanking him for his response, and moving on to the next player with the next question.

"What do you think about Mr. Cameron's plays throughout the season?"

"Is that all you got for me, Mrs?" The second player teases playfully, causing heat to warm your cheeks. "Whatever, I got this. Well, let me think. Rafe's always had solid stats. He's one of the hardest-working players on and off the court, and he always keeps his head focused. Even when he had a bit of a bump a couple of months back, he adjusted his plays and bounced back. That’s his resilience."

Your breath hitches at the implication. You try your hardest not to sneak a glance at Rafe, but you can't help yourself. Turning to your side, you discover Rafe watching you, his expression grimacing at the confession of his teammate.

Months ago. The only thing that changed was your breakup. Does this mean he was as affected as you were?

You try not to think too much about that. Thanking the player again, you move to the next, asking more about Rafe's character—his prospects for the NBA, and his experience managing a student-athlete. You didn't ask just about Rafe, you asked about the games and conferences too, but most of the players always return their answers to Rafe. Positively. As if they had this unspoken agreement behind the scenes to hype Rafe up to his ex-girlfriend.

Time goes on, and you start to immerse yourself in the role. It wasn't as difficult as you expected, especially because you're entertaining a team who've known you all throughout their collegiate career. They answered the questions with enthusiasm and a playfulness that can only be recognized by years of familiarity. You can feel the energy from the reporters shift, stewed with envy, because of how the players are showing favoritism to a novice reporter who barely has her foot in the door.

Rafe watches you the entire time. How truly riveting you are in your role. How you command the room with your questions, how you captivate the players, and how you grow more comfortable as you talk to your teammates. He waits patiently as you make your way down the table, for his chance to talk to you.

But just as he's about to be next, you return the microphone to the moderator. You were going to leave him hanging. Before you can fully hand off the mic, a voice commands the room.

"What about me?"

It was Rafe. You lift your head to find him leaning against his own microphone propped on the table, his blue eyes pinned on you, his expression full of want. Your lips part, but no words fall through. The publicist doesn't take back the microphone.

You stammer. "What about you?"

"Don't you have any questions for me?" He questions, as the crowd murmurs with surprise. On any other day, Rafe would've gladly taken the lack of questions aimed at his face. You've done your research; you've seen his previous interviews.

"I..." You can't seem to answer him. All eyes—from the Coach, to the players (who are smiling their head off), to the reporters—turn to you. "I've asked all my questions."

"I'm sure you can think of one more," he declares, his eyes not once straying from your face. As if he's taking the time to memorize all of your features, to absorb any changes. "Come on, hit me."

Everyone waits. Eagerly. With jealousy. The media room stills with a palpable silence, and you can't do anything but retract your arm, holding the microphone back up to your lips.

You blink, racking your brain for any questions. You truly did ask all of them, and there's nothing appropriate enough to ask in front of a room full of people who are recording and monitoring your moves. So, you settle on something safe.

"How did you feel scoring that winning shot?"

Rafe takes a deliberate moment to consider his answer. His silence tells it all. Before he leans down against the mic, his lips centimeters from the pop filter, and he says, "Empty."

Flashes of the camera go off, and hushed whispers are heard throughout the room. But none of that matters to you. Your eyes remain on Rafe, your heart skipping beats from his confession, and you tame enough of your voice before asking a follow-up. "Can you explain why?"

He nods. "Basketball is great and all, and I'm grateful for everything that has happened, and all I have accomplished. Hell, I'm even grateful for this team right here that's been such a hardass on me since day one," he gestures to his teammates on the panel, and they all grin and laugh. One even blows him a kiss. "But, at the end of the day, it's just a game. Without the people you love by your side, it's meaningless."

You truly feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs and tears crowd your waterline. When his words finally deliver through, it's almost a straight shot to your chest. This was the admission you'd been waiting for, but it didn't feel satisfactory whatsoever. It's painful, all of the old wounds opening by their stitches, and grief comes crawling up your throat, demanding to be felt.

You don't answer him. You can't. Rafe watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if his words had any impact, but you hide them well. For now. With tears stinging your vision, and seconds from unraveling at the seams, you drop the microphone onto the chair and leave the room in a rush.

That's when he realizes he fucked up.

Rafe stands from his seat, ready to follow after you, but his Coach commands him to sit down. His gaze remains on you until you exit the room, but with direct orders, he can do nothing but slump back into his chair.

When Rafe finishes the rest of his interviews, with more reluctance than he had before, he wants nothing more than to go back to campus to search for you. But he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Clearing out, Rafe steps out of the doors.

To where you were waiting.

"You had no right," you snap, as Rafe heads to the exit of the stadium. He whips around at the sound of your voice, finding you leaning against the wall. As much as he knows he fucked up, he can't explain the happiness he feels at seeing you still here.

"For what?" Rafe prompts with an easygoing smile, "Talking? I'm pretty sure that's what the press conference is about."

But you don't take it so easy.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," you huff, "You used my words against me."

During the breakup, Rafe had said something along the lines of focusing on his basketball career. You had rebutted that basketball can't be the one thing in his life. At the time, he disagreed, prompting the necessity of the breakup further. It had hurt to hear your words twisted and used against you.

"It was friendly," he reassures. "Just like the rest of my teammates. Talking like we're friends."

"We're not friends and you know that."

He frowns. "We said we would be."

"No, you said that," you hiss, clenching your hands by your side, memories slapping you and prickling your skin. "To rid yourself of the guilt, or to make it seem like permanent. I don't know. But it doesn't work that way with me, Rafe. We aren't friends."

His brows pinch together, and agitation flares through his hard features. "So, that's what it's gonna be like? You come to my games and you interview my entire team but you ignore me because we broke up? That's unprofessional."

You falter. "That's not fair."

"It isn't?" He challenges, stepping closer into your space. "How do you think I felt when you were interviewing every single one of my teammates about me, but refusing to talk to me? To look at me? What does that suggest?"

"That I got everything I needed from your teammates."

"You could've gotten it directly from the source."

"I didn't need to,"

"You could've,"

"Why are you so adamant about me talking to you?"

"Because you're acting like a vindictive bitch."

You stagger back as if he struck you, and Rafe instantly regretted the words that left his mouth. But he can't take them back. Your lips part, and you stare at him in disbelief, but you come up with nothing to defend yourself.

With the hardest glare you can muster, you proclaim, "Fuck you, Rafe."

And you turn to leave.

Rafe quickly follows after you. "Wait—that's not—I didn't mean that."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Just like you didn't want to talk to me in the conference room?"

"You broke up with me!" You snap, stopping in your tracks with such abruptness, that Rafe almost ran into you. Turning back around to face him, you say, "You were the love of my life, and you left me, and you expect me to keep it professional?"

Rafe says nothing.

"I'm trying," you croak, tears crowding your vision again, and you hate how vulnerable and pathetic you feel in his presence. Like it was back to that night in the car, where Rafe said it was over. "I'm trying to do this right."

Rafe watches your face with anguish, but he can't say anything. You're trying hard to keep your composure, and regain some semblance of stability, you say with a even voice, "I'm glad everything is working out the way you want it to. I'm glad you get this bigshot career and you're about to make it in the NBA, and I'm glad you found it so easy to move on but that's not how it worked with me." Your voice cracks. "I loved you. I can't just forget about it like it's nothing."

His voice is small when he answers. "I didn't."

"You didn't?" You repeat with disbelief. "Rafe, you're thriving. You barely look like our breakup had any impact on you. You're about to secure one of the biggest deals in NBA history. What else could you possibly be missing?"

"You."

His dark eyes connect with yours in utmost vulnerability and it cripples you. All your aggression and anger, all your pent-up frustration—it makes you upset that Rafe manage to disarm you with one word.

"No," you step back, shaking your head, "You can't do that."

"It's the truth."

"It's too late."

Rafe looks pained at your declaration. "Don't say that."

"Don't say what?" You sniffle, your vision blurring with hot tears. "My truth? Did you expect me to wait around for you to come to your senses? To beg for you to take me back?"

"I didn't..." Rafe stammers, searching your face for any indication that it isn't too late. That he still had a chance. But he doesn't find any. "I was honest back there. Any win without you feels empty."

"Stop,"

"I made a mistake."

"Rafe—" You shake your head again, sucking in a deep breath, and needing him to listen and step back. "I'm not here to talk about that. I don't want to talk about that."

"But I do,"

"But I don't," you declare firmly. "I just... I need you to understand. You can't do that. I'm trying to move on with my life. And I understand that we're going to be seeing each other, no matter how I don't want to. But I'll get used to it. I'll numb that pain. But you can't do that. Here; back there. It wasn't fair to me."

Your words sound too permanent. Too real. Rafe can't stand it.

With desperation, he pleads, "Can we talk?"

"We're already talking."

"No, I'm talking about us," Rafe says, taking a step forward. Only for you to take one back. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about it."

"There's so much to say."

"Name one."

"I miss you."

"Rafe," you cry, tears streaming down your face that you can no longer contain. He hates seeing you cry. He hates it more to be the reason. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over, to soothe the pain, but it looks as if it would hurt worse if he tried to touch you. "Please stop. You're breaking my heart again."

He made a mistake. There are so many times he can say that. When he saw you in the media room, for the first time in months, it came rushing back to what he's missing. How much he's losing you. He wanted to ask you so much—about how you're doing, to learn how you got the job, to uncover more about how close you are to achieving your dreams.

But he was barricaded. By responsibilities, obligations, and duties. He couldn't ask you in a room full of people. He couldn't help you when his father pressured him to break up with you for his career. He couldn't do anything, then. But he wants to do better now.

He says your name, so defeated, in a last-ditch effort. But you shake your head.

You need to leave this place with whatever is left of your pride and dignity. So, you straighten your spine, take out his jersey from your tote, and hand him the last remnant of your relationship. "Congratulations on your win, Mr. Cameron. I wish you the best in your career."

And when you turn to leave this time, he doesn't stop you.

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[thelovehypothesis]

You ramble, but it's adorable

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

From this request 

+1k words

a/n's: this was requested on my old account which I accidentally deleted but, hope this fic finds the person that requested it!

warnings: fluff!

summary: lost in your latest obsession, and he's completely captivated by your every word—because to Ollie, every ramble is just another reason to fall in love.

Ollie had always found it easy to get lost in the small moments—those quiet pauses between races, when the world slowed down just enough for him to savour the simplicity of life. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the way he felt right now, watching you animatedly explain your latest obsession.

You were sitting on the couch, knees tucked under you, eyes sparkling as you tried to unpack the complex universe that Taylor Swift had created with her "folklore" album. Your hands moved in quick gestures as you traced out what you called "the love triangle of all love triangles" between Betty, James, and August. Ollie leaned against the backrest, listening with a quiet smile, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"And then—" you continued, your voice slightly higher in pitch with excitement, "in 'Cardigan,' Betty is talking about how she loved James even after he messed everything up. But, and here's the crazy part, 'August' is from the perspective of the girl James cheated on her with!" You waved your hands in a dramatic arc. "It’s so genius because it’s like each song is a different piece of the same story. I mean, can you even imagine the emotional depth it takes to create something like that?"

Ollie chuckled softly, shaking his head just enough for you to notice but not enough to interrupt you. You barely paused, too deep in your passionate analysis of the music to stop. 

"But wait, I’m not done!" You looked at him, eyes wide. "You’ve got 'Betty' next, which is James' apology song. He’s basically trying to get Betty back after messing around with August, but you can tell he’s just a stupid kid who didn’t know what he had until he lost it!" You sighed dramatically, clutching a pillow to your chest. "It’s heartbreaking, but also like... I can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Ollie couldn't help it; his heart swelled at how much you cared about all these tiny details, how you put your whole soul into explaining it to him. He loved how your face lit up with excitement, how your voice carried the melody of your thoughts so effortlessly. And he especially loved how you didn’t care whether he knew every little detail or not—you just wanted to share it with him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" Ollie said softly, his voice cutting through your rambling just enough to make you pause.

You blinked, thrown off for a second. "What?" 

"You ramble, but it's adorable," he repeated, this time with that signature Ollie grin that made your stomach flip. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your cheek, warm and soft.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. "I’m not rambling… am I?"

"You absolutely are," Ollie teased, leaning forward so that his face was inches from yours. "But don’t stop. I like it when you talk about stuff like this. It’s like... I can see how much it means to you, and I love seeing you so happy."

You playfully swatted his arm, but your heart was beating faster, the tender warmth of his words melting away any embarrassment. "Fine," you said, narrowing your eyes in mock seriousness, "but don’t complain when I start talking about the metaphors behind the lyrics."

"I wouldn’t dream of it." He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist. His eyes softened as they held yours, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble disappeared.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of affection. But then Ollie deepened it, his hand cupping the side of your face as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips warm and insistent, making your heart race even faster. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but grin at him. "I think that was just a tactic to stop me from talking."

Ollie smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. "Maybe," he admitted, his thumb grazing your lower lip, "but it worked, didn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you were already melting under his touch. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 

"Seriously though," Ollie murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I love listening to you talk. About Taylor Swift, about racing, about whatever it is that’s on your mind. You’re just so… passionate about everything, and it makes me love you even more."

The way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, made your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close again, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You’re too sweet, Ollie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He chuckled lightly, his arms tightening around you. "Only for you."

For a while, you both stayed like that—curled up in each other’s arms, the TV flickering in the background, the weight of the world outside fading away. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that this moment, with him holding you so gently, was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while, you shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him again. "Okay, but I’m serious about that love triangle. You have to admit it’s pretty genius, right?"

Ollie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before nodding. "It’s genius," he agreed, even though he barely understood half of what you were saying. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice danced with excitement. And if listening to Taylor Swift conspiracies made you this happy, then he would listen to every single one.

"Thanks for putting up with my rambling," you said, your voice softening.

Ollie smiled, brushing his lips against yours once more. "It’s not putting up with anything. I love it, and I love you."

And with that, he kissed you again—soft, sweet, and full of love. The kind of kiss that felt like home. The kind that made you feel like no matter what you rambled about, he would always be there to listen, to smile, and to love you through it all.

---The End---

-Lots of love, Em.

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[redr0sewrites]

Hi! I want to request number 17 with Jason Todd with a fem reader. Preferably nsfw and that it’s the reader who says it. Love your work!

🥀A/n: YEA OFC!! TYSM!!! sorry this took so long, schools been kicking my ass

🥀Prompt: "I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you"

🥀Word Count: 2.5k

🥀Cw: nsfw, teensy bit of angst in the beginning, praise kink, riding, handjob, oral (fem receiving) soft sex, fluff and smut, fem!reader

🥀minors dni

as Jason crawled through the window to your shared apartment, relief flooded his body at the fact that you were not only home, but awake. you were a night owl, and more often than not, you'd stay up and wait for him to return after a patrol. i just can't sleep without knowing your safe, you had whispered to him once.

it made Jason's heart ache that he worried you, especially on the rougher nights. tonight was definitely one of those. while it hadn't been physically brutal, his suit felt too tight, and his head was filled with panic and anxiety that only seeing you could quell. however, he didn't want to trouble you with his own fucked up issues- it was already hard for him to handle alone, and dumping it all on you only made him feel even more despicable. i'll only be making sure she's okay, he repeats to himself. its not selfish. i just need to see her.

you were in the kitchen, making yourself a late night snack- that you would hopefully get to share with Jason. at the familiar sound of his leather jacket being hung and his boots being tossed aside, you turn towards your lover. he was in the process of stripping off his gear, hands shaky and eyes clouded. he was robotic with his movements, and in all honesty, it scared you for his sake. you watched the way he harshly tugged at his skintight shirt for a few more seconds, before you approached him, keeping your movements steady.

"you okay, baby?" Jason's eyes snap towards you, freezing in the process of removing his clothing as he swallows hard.

"uh-huh, yea, tonight was just.. a lot," his voice cracks slightly, and he turns away. you reach for his face, and he flinches back, and you could swear that, if you focused hard enough, you could hear the sound of your own heart cracking into a billion tiny pieces. "i'm sorry," he whispers quietly. "i just need a minute.. i'll be in the bedroom."

"oh," you reply, swallowing dumbly. you were used to him breaking down like this, but you had been working on helping him to stop shutting you out. you got the feeling tonight was more than just a lot, and you wanted to hold him more than anything. you take a deep breath before handing him a plate of the food you had been making just moments prior. your careful not to brush his hands as you hand him the plate, and you can see that he notices the gesture with a small grimace.

"alright, but make sure to eat something before you fall asleep. i'll join you in a few minutes though, okay Jay?" Jason nods, taking the plate with shaking hands before returning to your bedroom. you sigh, storing the rest of the food for later and cleaning up just a bit before settling on returning to your room. the kitchen's cleanliness wasn't perfect, but you had more pressing matters at hand.

when you opened the door, Jason was sitting on the edge of your bed, eating quietly. he had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants that were almost baggy on his broad form, but not quite. his entire face lights up like a puppy when he sees you, hair rumpled and eyes wide.

"did you eat anything?" he asks, eyeing the lack of food in your hands. you curse, shaking your head. "i forgot to grab myself some, but i already refrigerated it. it's fine, i'll get some tomorrow." Jason's eyes narrow, and he offers some to you.

"you can have mine, i'm done."

"no, Jay, its fine-"

"i insist," he says stubbornly, and you can't help the little giggle that slips past your lips. "okay, okay." you take a spoonful in your mouth, swallowing hard and giving him a pointed look.

"happy now?"

Jason nods and cracks a half smile, the heavy look in his eyes fading just a bit. he moves the plate to the bedside table before opening his arms in a silent offer, which you gladly oblige. he buries himself in your chest as you wrap your arms around him, one hand sliding under his hoodie to rub his back while the other plays with the hair at the base of his neck.

"i missed you," he whispers, melting into your embrace.

"i missed you too, Jaybee. i love you so, so much," you don't slow your ministrations as you continue playing with his hair, even when Jason shudders below you.

"but.. why?"

"why what? why do i love you?" he nods, letting out a shaky breath, and your heart seizes for the second time tonight.

"Jay, why wouldn't i love you? you're beautiful, and so brave and strong, and you make me feel so safe. you know that, right?"

Jason lets out another breath, and his voice cracks as he speaks. "i- i just, you're so you, and i'm.. different. i came back wrong, a-and scared, and angry, like some- some fucking mutt or something. 'm just so afraid that i'll hurt you, o-or worse- someone else will," his admission is cut off by his own gasps as he struggles to keep himself from crying.

"oh, Jay, honey, i don't think any of those thinks. God, I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you. your so perfect, Jay, if only you'd let me show you." you lean down to kiss his forehead, and he nuzzles into your neck.

"i'm trying," he whispers, inhaling your scent. he wishes he could be one with you, that he could melt into your ribcage and stay intertwined with you like this forever. "i promise i'm trying. for you. for me. for us. i swear-" you cut him off by kissing him again, this time on the cheek. he blinks, lifting his head to look up at you and falling right into your trap. you kiss him again, this time with more fervor as you trace your lips over his jawline and up towards his nose, before leaning and kissing him on the lips.

"you don't have to try, Jay. i appreciate it, and i love how hard your working to improve yourself, but i never want you to feel as though you have to. i love you as you are," you whisper against his lips. "oh," he mumbles, pulling himself upwards to kiss you deeper. now balanced on his elbows, he cups your face, caging you in and kissing you even harder. you sigh into the kiss, and Jason moans softly as you subconsciously role your hips against his. you smile against his lips as his own hips grind softly against your thighs, mesmerized by the feeling of his growing hardness grinding against you.

you lay thicker on the praise, watching the effect your honey sweet words have on him.

"your so wonderful, so pretty and strong. will you let me show you just how much i love you, huh big boy?" you coo, and Jason's whole body shudders at your words. your hands travel down to his hips, sliding under his hoodie and toying with the hem.

"is this okay?" you ask, and Jason doesn't hesitate to nod. your hands travel up his atomach, running over his happy trail and you almost moan at the scratchy feeling. traveling higher, you grab one of his nipples in two fingers, rolling the nub gently and watching his eyes screw shut as his breathing picks up. your free hand tugs lightly on the hem of his hoodie.

"lets get these layers off, yea?" Jason nods, rolling to the side and laying flat on his back as you straddle him. "use your words, Jay," you tease, and Jason obliges.

"oh fuck- yea, yes,"

"yes what, honey?"

Jason sends you a slightly disgruntled glare, and you chuckle slightly. you can't help but compare him to a wet cat, all miffed and pouty.

"yes, you can take my clothes off."

"much better," you purr, and Jason huffs. his eyes never leave your face as you lift his hoodie over his head, and you admire just how broad he actually is. he's strong, body defined with muscle, but he still has a bit of tummy that makes you go absolutely feral. your eyes trail over his pecs, sliding down his stomach and vee line, finally catching sight of his thick happy trail leading down beneath his waistline. that sight alone makes you want to devour him, and you have to restrain yourself from absolutely jumping his bones lest you rush in too quickly.

"your staring.." he mumbles, and you giggle.

"your just so pretty, baby, can't help that i want to absolutely devour you." Jason rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush all the same.

"lets get these off, yea?" you tug at his waistband, pulling down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock. he's already half hard, precum pooling at his tip. you wrap your hands around his base, using your other hand to rub your thumb over his tip. Jason's whole body jerks, and he lets out a string of curses as you slowly jerk him off.

"im not gonna last like this," he hisses, hands flying to your wrist.

"good."

"i want to cum inside you," he pleads, and you sigh, unable to resist indulging him.

"fine, baby, but i'm gonna need to prep myself first," you warn, and Jason nods fervently. "can you sit on my face?" he asks bluntly, and you chuckle.

"yea, okay," you reply, smiling to yourself as his face erupts in delight. you immediately rid yourself of your clothes, giving him a little show as you strip into nothing but your panties. looking him in the eye, you slowly tease the waistband of your underwear, slipping it down your thighs as your free hand sensually cups your cunt. ridding yourself of your undergarments, you watch Jason fight to stay still as you spread your folds.

"don't tease," he whines, and you smirk. "you know i can't help it," you reply, and Jason groans. it isn't long before your positioned over his face, drooly cunt right above him as your thighs fill the same role as earmuffs. large, rough hands find purchase on your hips, tugging your cunt downwards.

"need you t'sit, ma," Jason mumbles, licking a fat stripe between your folds. you moan softly, rolling your hips against his face. "there she is," he drawls, one hand keeping your hips steady while the other begins to draw steady circles on your clit. "that's my girl".

his pace is unrelenting as he eats you out, licking and sucking between your folds like theres no tomorrow. his thumb never leaves your pearl, stimulating your clit so perfectly until your thighs are shaking. it isn't long before you feel your orgasm approaching, and you barely have time to warn him before it washes over you.

"o-oh, Jason, 'm gonna-" you gasp, rolling your hips even harder as his nose and finger nudges your clit. he hums something you can't make out against your pussy, and in seconds the cord in your stomach tightens as pure orgasmic bliss floods over you. Jason helps you ride out your high for a few more seconds, making out with your drooling pussy and soaking up all of your release. when you pull away, you worry you may have suffocated him from how tight he's gripping your thigh. the sight of him, cheeks flushed and eyes fuzzy with your slick covering his lips will probably be the hottest thing you ever experience. you let out a soft whine at the sight, and Jason grins.

"you sure you can make it another round?" he teases, and you scoff. "can you? mister i can't last like this..." Jason flushes slightly, hips jerking as you align his aching dick with your entrance.

"you ready honey?"

"yea," he murmurs, leaning back and watching you with lust filled eyes as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

Jason lets out a needy moan as your heat begins to engulf his length. your barely passed his tip when his hips lurch, and it takes incredible self control to keep himself from giving in and pushing his fat cock into your needy cunt. you flutter around him, adjusting to his size as his eyes screw shut.

"almost there," you mumble, thighs shaking as you clench around him. Jason lets out a wanton moan, squeezing your hips as your cunt swallows his shaft. when you finally reach the base, he lets out a pathetic whine, twitching inside you when you role your hips. his cock reaches sl deel inside you, and just grinding down against him makes you see stars. you begin to roll your hips, lifting yourself up and slamming down as you set a brutal pace. Jason mewls, hips bucking as tears form in the corner of his eyes.

"y-you're so good f'me baby, so good- can feel your fat cock all the way up here-" you drag his hand towards your stomach, where the impression of his dick can be felt beneath your abdomen.

"o-oh god-" Jason moans, eyes rolling back as his head gets all fuzzy with pleasure. his moans are borderline pornographic, and he lets out the cutest little ah ah ah's as you clench around him. you can tell neither of you are going to last much longer, and you somehow manage to increase your pace even more, lifting yourself up intil only his tip is still inside and grinding back down.

"s'too much!" Jason's voice slurrs, and you let out a breathy whine.

"yea, yea i know baby, y'so good f'me, making me feel s'good- gonna cum for me big boy? gonna make me proud?" Jason lets out a sob, chest heaving as his dick twitches from deep within your cunt.

"yes, yes please- wanna be good f'you, please please please-" he's cut off by a strangled moan as he cums, eyes rolling back and thighs trembling as you feel his seed fill your cunt. the feeling of him coming inside brings you to the edge, and you clench around him as you see stars. your orgasm lasts for a blissful few seconds, in which galaxies dance across your vision as Jason continues rolling his hips until your both mewling in overstimulation.

you collapse against him, chest heaving as he wraps his arms around you. the feeling of his warm skin against your own is so pleasant, and you couldn't possibly feel any more intertwined. he doesn't move to pull out, and neither do you, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of closeness. you fight hard against exhaustion, but you know it's a losing battle as it feels as though your eyelids are magically being weighed down.

"now do you know that i love you?" you mumble, kissing his neck. Jason hums, eyelids fluttering. "yea... i do."

"i love you s'much, Jay.." you whisper, feeling sleep overcome you.

"i love you too."

this is unproofread bc im lazy... sorry 😭 i've been fighting for my life in school im SO sorry i havent been posting as much- my classes and job r kicking my ass ngl but i WILL be trying to push through more of the 2k event requests !!!

[midastouch013]

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

--

[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

Liked by aurorabelen9, cristoml10 and 10,385 others

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? 💀

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"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.

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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

[luvvixu]

how to tame your boyfriend

content: bf!gojo, mentioned of sex and sexual stuffs, 16+, fluff, drabble, does not contain any smut, i think gojo's like this can't blame me

wanna know how to tame your annoying (and horny) boyfriend when your flight is delayed?

that's very easy. just buy him some lego and he would go on instant mute.

"i can't believe you really bought satoru—a full 27 years old ass man—a set of legos?" your friend from the other line, shoko, wheeze and at the same time confused for your action to tame your boyfriend.

sighing hardly while massaging your temple, you answered. "i had to, sho. he won't stop bothering me to have a quickie since our flight was delayed and he was bored."

your flight overseas was delayed for three hours because of some maintenance needed to be checked in the aircraft. now, satoru thought it is a good idea to spend those three hours having a passionate fornication.

of course you immediately dislike the idea even though you are tempted too. you value your morals, ethics, and dignity. unlike your boyfriend, he has no shame and would even proudly tell some random people that you are his by some marks solely created.

"could've played with his phone but seriously, why lego?" shoko was still laughing, now that you opened your camera and showed her your boyfriend who's literally sitting on the airport floor with bricks of lego on his hands.

satoru looked so focused and unbothered, which is an extremely good thing—like he couldn't stop whispers in your ears, whining about how needy he is right now and how badly he wanted you. but now he's occupied, it is the greatest relief for you.

"first, his phone is dead and was tempt to buy a new fucking phone just because he said charging using a power bank takes a lot of time. had to smack the shit outta him and force him to get out of the apple store."

yep, the idiot forgot to charge his phone before you left for the airport. now his phone is dead, the desire to buy a new one instead of waiting for his phone to be charged in a powerbank is crazy. although, money is not a problem for the head of the gojo clan—he got figures that cost more, more, more than your annual salary.

"second, lego made him focused and entertained on building it, not for having scandalous sex with me. i feel like he's being my child than being my boyfriend at this moment." you joked, lowering your voice so your big baby wouldn't hear you.

"you said it yourself that satoru is a full package." shoko rolled her eyes, but she's not wrong tho. satoru is everything, he could easily afford things and could even make some things impossible to possible.

"touché."

shoko let out a laugh. "anyway, gotta go now. got a client in an hour so bye my boo, mwa!" sending also a virtual flying kiss to your platonic friend, you both bid a farewell to with sweet smile on your faces.

as you ended the call, you turned your attention to your boyfriend who's now almost done on his lego that he's been occupying himself for like an hour now.

you made to take some photo of him and post it on your close friends in instagram because this scene of your boyfriend is literally a wholesome and definitely iconic. satoru glanced at you when he heard you giggle at some adorable shots of your boyfriend.

"what are you laughing at?" your boyfriend glanced up to you, confused and warily.

you shook your head, holding your laughter to not raise any suspicion. "nothing babe, just focus on fishing your lego instead of other things."

satoru showed you the figure "oh but i'm finished and we still have like an hour before our flight…" he paused. your mouth hangs wide, questioning about how the hell he builds almost five hundred tiny pieces in just an hour?! truly your boyfriend was really something but this is wild.

"how did you—"

"can we have a quickie now?" satoru smiles sheepishly.

your face turns more sour at his shameless request. although you understand that satoru is a man in need, but his neediness sometimes is really out of place and it took a lot of effort just to stop him from doing so.

"no, satoru. instead, we're going to have a quickie stop at the lego shop to buy you some more entertainment."

your boyfriend pouted at your answer like a hurdled puppy. "but i'm enjoying it more when i'm inside you."

that completely took you off guard.

"... tempting but no."

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