#i don't even like songfics

[m-i-r-p]

Achilles come down and dazai are SO GOOD together so I'm gonna write something about it give me time to cook

[seventh-district]

Could've left me just the way you found me, but you came and put your wings around me. You went out of your way, to fix what you didn't break.

This song is so incredibly Sam & Darlin' coded and no one can tell me otherwise.

[lots of lyrical analysis below the cut] [there's also a short little fanfic blurb of them stargazing down there too (this post got really out of hand lmao)]

For those not fully caught up, note that the following commentary contains various spoilers for Sam and Darlin's stories.

Note: Unfortunately this song is gendered, using the word 'girl' several times. Which sucks a little bit for immersion purposes, not only for keeping Darlin' gender-neutral, but also because I see this song as a duet between them, and Darlin' obviously wouldn't be addressing Sam with the word 'girl' either. So! As with most songs on their playlist, we're just gonna mentally omit any gendered terms we come across.

Side note: Frustratingly, this is one of those songs that didn't really even need to gender the subject in the first place. No part of the story or message is lost without it. But alas, many songs are like that, and so the playlist-makers of the world shall continue to suffer. [/lh]

Anyways, preamble's over. It's lyric time now yay!

Sam's Part

I was a ten-year train wreck

Technically for Sam I suppose it was 13 years, but ten is close enough (and 'ten' admittedly flows a lot better in the rhythm of the song than 'thirteen' would.) Anyways, we're not here to split hairs, (I have to remind myself), we're just here to point out similarities.

In Sam's Dec. '22 HBW, he says "For the last 13 years or so I haven't had to care too much about how I look. Seemed a little redundant after turnin', considerin' I didn't wanna be around much'a anybody anyway."

I think he's mentioned or alluded to that roughly 13 year period of time more than once, but that's the one I remember best so it's the example I'm using. There's still about 4 Sam audios I've yet to listen to as of making this post, so if I'm missing some Key Lore I'll edit this later. But for now, I don't think Sam has given many specifics on exactly how bad things got during that time. Luckily, 'train wreck' is a pretty broad and subjective term, so it easily covers any degree to which he may have fallen apart during those years.

It also feels like a very 'him' way of quickly brushing over the details of his past/his hurt, as he seems to tend to do with Darlin', (not all the time ofc but it's still something I've noticed) putting his own hurt on the backburner to prioritize and attend to theirs. Even outside of his dynamic with them, I think as a healer, it's something he learned to do. And now he does it with everyone. Put on a brave face, compartmentalize things and unpack them later, etc. I could go on and on but there'll be time for that in other posts I'm sure. For now, lets get back to the song at hand.

With a last-call longneck

Due to personal reasons, I've yet to decide if I want to HC him as having used alcohol as a coping mechanism during that time. I don't recall him having mentioned alcohol much, if at all, (maybe one mention of whiskey that I don't have time to find right now) so I don't think it's necessarily canon that he did, but it's certainly possible. My personal preferences aside, I'll admit it makes for some good additional angst. (And- self-indulgently- it makes some other songs on my playlist for them more fitting.) So, for the sake of this song, let's imagine that he did.

I was searchin', I'd been hurt real bad

This one feels pretty self-explanatory given what Alexis did, (and, if you wanna get even angstier with it, whatever his family did earlier on in his life) so there isn't much commentary to add on my end.

I HC that in spite of 'not wanting to be around anybody', he- like Darlin- still had a tiny part of himself buried deep down that was, in a way, 'searching' for someone to find solace in. (No this isn't me projecting onto them both haha what are you talking about-)

Movin' on, gettin' sidetracked One step forward and five back

This is generally applicable enough that I don't feel the need to give too much of a specific example. Anyone who's recovered or is recovering from trauma knows this non-linear, back-and-forth struggle well already, and I'm sure he was no stranger to it.

If I were to give some examples though, I could point to Darlin's (and subsequently, Sam's) encounter with Alexis at the summit, or the shit that Quinn dredged up about Fredrick and threw at Sam in the interrogation room. Those are both more recent examples and I imagine these lines of the song to be coming from a place of him prior to meeting Darlin', but still, they're some instances where I'm sure he felt like the past was pulling him back in. I'm sure that there's been many throughout those 13 years that we were never witness to.

Not your fault, I was scared to fall

This line reminds me of their 'Cuddles and Confessions' audio. I don't think he ever explicitly said he was 'scared' per se, so afaik there's no specific line I can quote, but in that and every audio prior, he was obviously hesitant to admit, perhaps even to himself, that he was gradually falling for them. Even after the initial confession, there's certain limits of his (e.g. biting) that he carries for far longer, and some that I (and others) HC that he'll carry forever. So this line feels to me like him reassuring Darlin' that his reluctance isn't the fault of them, but his past.

Darlin's Part

You were the star in the pitch black Shine the way on the way back

We don't have any canon instances of them comparing Sam to a star, but I can see it being something they'd say (perhaps less poetically, but the sentiment would be there) one night while laying up on their roof watching the stars with him. Maybe they're dead-tired, talking nonsense with lidded eyes at the end of a long day, fighting sleep in favor of more time spent with him.

"What- what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Their hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in their line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above them. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow their less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', their pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along their arm, he takes their hand in his and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." They say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." They nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting them. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

They scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh into their hair. "No- no I mean- like... what's another name for it... Oh! It's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but they cut him off before he can start. "But no- no, this one isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in their overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Their frown is audible in their voice as they latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at their over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, darlin', I promise."

They huff, but thankfully shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention. I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...There you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places 'n people I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, surrounded by the ghost of him. You outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me back home."

In the back of their mind, they recall something they once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can see a star that's already burnt out, because it's light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

They remember Sam's words, once whispered to them on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

They think about dead stars.

They think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand slides up their forearm, pulling them out of their thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

They look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

They reach out, pulling him down into them. Burying their face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear their words, muffled against the thick fabric, but his hearing catches it just fine.

"Don't burn out too quick. Please. I still need you here. I don't- I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

.......Whoopsies! Really, genuinely didn't mean to improv an entire scene there, good god. Also didn't mean to swerve hard into angst at the end but uh. that's what came out! so I'm rolling with it lmao. Aaanyways let's move on, it's getting late and this is a song analysis post, not a fic.

Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers

'Out of nowhere' reminds me of Sam's words from the same HBW video I referenced earlier. "You came into my life like a damn wreckin' ball. There was no preparing for that, clothing or otherwise." While those were Sam's words, not Darlin's, I still feel like they feel similarly to how suddenly Sam came into their life as well. (Not in a bad way, mind you!)

[the significance of 'answered all my prayers' edges into my own personal more headcanon-y/personal/OC-ified Darlin' territory, so we can just gloss over this one for the sake of at least attempting to keep this more universally applicable]

Picked up the towel that I threw in Took in a heart that was ruined

Again, largely self-explanatory I feel. (*proceeds to explain anyways*) I imagine that Darlin' was at the point of throwing in the towel, hellbent on a solo-mission to find Quinn regardless of the danger it posed to them. I doubt they were looking toward the future anymore, (to reference Sam,) fully willing to throw themself at their problems until they really did break.

The specific use of 'ruined' hits hard here, because after everything they went through with Quinn, and especially after he recounted it all to Sam in that interrogation room, I imagine that they really, truly did feel ruined.

Showed me the past ain't a tattoo Loved me even when you didn't have to

These lines in particular make me sick with emotion every time I hear this song, because I feel like they hit the nail on the head for how Darlin' feels.

I'll be here citing various quotes all night that I feel showcase that sentiment, but we don't have time for that! So instead I'm just pointing to the entirety of 'Quinn's Aftermath' video, and leaving you with this single quote from it.

"Everything that he said reflects nothin' on you, and everything on him."

Equally Applicable Lines

And I don't know why Why you saw something in me, baby But you saw right through All the pain, and you came and saved me Yeah, I know you didn't leave me lonely Weren't the one that put the heartbreak on me Picked up the pieces It wasn't the mess that you made Could've left me just the way you found me But you came and put your wings around me You went out of your way To fix what you didn't break

Again, I think these lines are all pretty self-explanatory, and are just as accurate coming from either one of them. To me, at least, their entire dynamic is that they saved each other, in their own ways.

(But I will admit, the final verses about 'going out of your way to fix what you didn't break' are definitely conjuring up memories of Sam in the early days, literally going out of his way to visit and heal Darlin' after their fight with the two vamps. In general, his continued/repeated healing of them after they once again hurt themselves is the very literal definition of fixing what he didn't break.

But! While we may have more blatant examples of Sam being 'the fixer' so to speak, I think he'd argue that Darlin' has done plenty fixing of their own. Physical wounds aren't the only things that need healing, after all.)

-------

[shameless self-promo of my Sam & Darlin' playlist for those few of u interested enough to make it to the very end of this wall of text. if u liked this then u might like some of the other songs on there soooo maybe go check it out and maybe perhaps give it a follow so i can get a little serotonin boost or dopamine or whatever the chemical is that's released when Number Go Up. ...okay that's it i hope u enjoyed my fixation-induced ramblings! thank u and goodnight]

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Peter after getting his S/O pregnant, pumping his fists in the air and cackling and feeling oh so virile: FUCK YEAH AM I A MAN OR WHAT?! Peter when his baby is born, sobbing his eyes out: OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO FUCKIN SMALL WHAT IF I BREAK THEM???

[tetrafelino]

everyone on this accursed site who makes it their life's mission to make all hozier lyrics about aziraphale and crowley should be hunted for sport

[yndrgrl]

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

-

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

[ma1dita]

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy 3.6k☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

star crossing 4k (NEWEST ADD) ☼

The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (Crossing the stars for love is easier said than done)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves 4.3k ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

[runninriot]

missed wiggly wednesday again, so here's a Smutty Steddie Songfic September snippet instead 😇

“I’m telling you, Stevie! That guy had no shame whatsoever. Didn’t even hesitate to pull blank in front of me to show off that ridiculous tattoo right above his dick. It was horrendous! I even offered to cover it up for free but he declined, said the ladies dig it.”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. The things you have to put up with sometimes in his field of work never ceases to amaze him.

   “But hey, can’t say I didn’t like the overall view. A feast for my imagination. I’ll definitely use it the next time I’m ‘feeling lonely’.”

He uses his fingers to sign quotation marks and wiggles his eyebrows, delighted at the blush creeping up Steve’s cheeks when he realises what Eddie means by that.

Steve’s always been a little shy when it comes to talking about these things but they��ve been friends long enough for him to have gotten used to Eddie’s big, unfiltered mouth.

Eddie loves to rile him up, just a little, never so much that it makes him truly uneasy but enough to get a little kick out of it himself.

Steve’s cute when he blushes.

He’s damn fucking pretty, always, is the thing.

So what if Eddie stares a little too obvious? It’s not his fault Steve is so-

Nevermind.

He averts his gaze, takes a sip from his drink to cool off, giving Steve the chance to change the subject to something else.

  "Sometimes I fuck you in my head."

Eddie splutters his mouthful of beer half over himself, half over the table, can't believe he heard Steve right.

No. That must be a mistake because he can't possibly have said that.

Right?

   "I don't know why, it's just- sometimes when I touch myself, I think of you, you know?"

Eddie does, in fact, not know. Because what?

   "Steve, dude, look at me. Did you take something? Without me?"

He must've. There's no way he'd talk that much bullshit if he was sober. But they've only been here for ten minutes, fifteen max, both still on their first beer and there is no way in hell Steve is already that drunk.

So this must be something else.

Because it is absolutely impossible that his straight best friend would ever fantasize about anything other than boobies and soft lips and long lashes and, hell, maybe even a tight juicy ass – a woman’s ass – to get him going.

Steve Harrington does not think about guys when he touches himself. And most certainly not about Eddie.

He’s messing with him, that must be it. A little revenge for Eddie being insufferable.

   “Hah, that was good, Harrington. For a moment I really thought you’d lost your mind,” Eddie laughs half-heartedly in a weak attempt to cover up the slight tremble in his voice.

    For a second you got me thinking my pining ass died and went to heaven, is the thought he keeps to himself.

Another second goes by and Eddie is still waiting for Steve to laugh, to maybe swat his arm and tell him ‘Ha! Got’cha! You should see your stupid face.’ but that doesn’t happen. Instead, the air thickens and the tension between them makes Eddie nervous.

Then, finally, after what feels like an eternity, Steve opens his mouth.

But somehow, that only makes it worse.

   “Is- is that bad?”

(click here for more)

or here for the whole fic 😇

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[nellielsss]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ!

╰┈➤ I can't wait to try him... ✮✮✮

Summary: Just a little songfic inspired by The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande. I figured it was about time that the tables were turned & the reader got to make a mess! However will these boys react? Includes: Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami x Yandere!reader CW: murder, weapons, derogatory/degrading language (reader is severely flawed), allusions to sex

☆○o 𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙁𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

╰┈➤ It's no secret that your man was a man of charm and persuasion. Although his demeanor was considerably unapproachable and intimidating, he still knew his way around a conversation (he had to if he wanted to haggle the local vendors). It's also no secret that he was an adonis. A wide, tapered back that extended outwards to a pair of broad shoulders, biceps bigger than your head, and a face that could make Narcissus himself do a double-take, he was practically walking sex! Not to mention those 9 inches he was packing!

It's not like it was his fault that his body was so built; those muscles were a result of his years of working out! If he wanted to make as much money from his missions as possible, he'd need his strength to be at its peak. It also wasn't his fault that god blessed him with a perfect face with perfect skin (save for the scar) & a perfect bone structure.

If two + two = four, each two standing for the aforementioned attributes, then four meant that there was a lot of unwanted attention thrown his way. Men, women, non-binary folk and everyone in between threw a couple of flirty glances and compliments his way every now and then. It seemed like he raised the pheromones of the places he was in: bars, the grocery store; hell, even on the street there would be a couple of people trying to pick him up!

"Baby, don't even pay 'em a penny of your time," he muttered into your ear after a girl tried to get his number at a bar. "They don't compare to you; not even a little. Fuck would I do without this ass, eh?" he asked with a grin, making you smile a little. "Atta girl." If he wasn't so reserved and committed to his gal, you, then he would've eaten that shit up. But he made a vow to be more responsible and stay loyal to you, and he'd kill himself before he broke that vow. He even bought you a promise ring, for fuck's sake (he also had an engagement ring in mind for when the time was right)! So, to any sane person, things should've been peachy keen...

... if you were sane, that is.

Toji knew all about your mental state. He knew that you had a few issues, but he didn't care; he wasn't a fucking hypocrite for crying out loud. He had a few screws loose himself, so he didn't bat an eye when you told him about how many you had loose. The two of you made an excellent couple anyways, and he wasn't stupid enough to throw away a good thing. So, he brushed over it and decided to move on with life.

If only he knew how many friends he'd lose along the way.

The most recent "departure" was the one friend he'd made in high school (before he was forced to drop out by his family). One of the only female friends he'd made during his life, she was the tomboy-type who had no trouble making friends with guys. She was a total delinquent; she even rocked the long skirt and the mask back in high school, and she also dropped out of high school after he did for setting fires behind the school. Leather jackets, piercings, the whole nine yards. She was like a walking Mötley Crüe song.

But even walking rock-and-roll songs could catch feelings. Unluckily for her, it was high time that she kicked the bucket and made way for you. The only person who deserved Toji's attention was you. You were the one who kept him warm every night; you were the one who took his dick like no other; you were the one with the promise ring on your finger, not that bitch.

Killing her was quite simple. Although she was tough as nails, you were the one who actually had experience with killing people. All you had to do was sneak into her place at night and stab her. Then, you'd write a flimsy little note and make it seem like she fled the country; it was quite plausible for a chick like her.

┆ . "Hello? Who's there?" the chick's voice asked when she heard a few thumps in the other room. She was in the kitchen drinking a beer and listening to the radio (could she not afford a TV? how sad). She had a plate of Korean fried chicken on the counter as well, and the only light illuminating the area was the flimsy lightbulb above her head.

Her head immediately snapped in the direction of the noise she'd heard, and she grabbed a switchblade from the linoleum countertop. She took a few steps forward, the sound of the radio being drowned out by her heartbeat.

Another noise from the opposite direction, this time to her left. "Alright, who the fuck's fuckin' with me? I swear, Toji, if that's you-"

"Don't even say his fucking name, whore." She felt something grab her neck from behind, effectively choking her. The hand then pressed a nerve that stopped her from moving, rendering her frozen in place. She recognized that voice, but she couldn't believe it; was that girl seriously in her home...? She turned her eyes to the best of her ability, trying to catch a glimpse to confirm her suspicions. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, being met by Toji's girlfriend's pretty face which was now marred by a look of sheer venom and malice.

"P-please, can't we talk this out?-"

"It's too late to beg. You shouldn't have come back into his life; you shouldn't have even met him to begin with." The last thing she saw before she felt something stab her was a sick, twisted grin on her face, widening as the knife sunk further and further into her tattooed skin.

The knife left her side and then sunk back into her neck. A snap was the last thing she heard before her eyes went shut.

It definitely wasn't the last thing you heard, though; the knife sunk back into her neck again, then again, and again, and again, again, again, again, again, all the way until her neck practically ripped in two.

The plan to make a smooth escape was a little behind schedule considering all the blood splatters that needed cleaning on the linoleum flooring, but it was nothing a little bleach couldn't fix.

"Toji did tell me I looked good in red once," you sighed, dragging some blood down your face with a lovesick grin as the finishing touch.

You could rival Elizabeth Bathory with the amount of blood that was on you and the black sweater you chose to wear for the killing. Ah, it's not like that sweater was anything too important or sentimental to you; you always made sure not to wear anything nice when murdering a target of yours.

"Toji, Toji, Toji Toji Tojiiiii," you hummed to yourself, taking your gloves off and throwing them aside. You decided to put on a new pair of disposable gloves in order to clean the crime scene, considering how soaked the others were with the amount of blood that was in them. Making the mess an even bigger mess wasn't on your agenda for the night.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him... let's get intertwined... the stars they've aligned," you hummed to yourself, "the boy... is... mine!"

Just as you'd started to get into the swing of things and dance around the kitchen of your victim, cleaning up the mess in your own sick & twisted way, that little fantasy of yours was broken by the sound of the door opening. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, your blood running cold at the thought of being caught in such a predicament. You reached out to grab a nearby knife, already making a plan in your head. You'd killed a few other people who walked in on your murders, so it really wasn't anything new to you.

But those people weren't your boyfriend.

"Yoohoo, anybody home?" He asked in that deliciously deep & sarcastic voice of his. "I thought I oughta bring you that shirt you asked for. Y'know, the ACDC one?-"

When he turned his head to the side and saw you, his girlfriend, cleaning up a spilled pool of blood that belonged to his friend, he also froze. The two of you stared at one another, each completely bewildered by the other. Here was his sweet, amazing, practically angelic girlfriend all covered in blood & standing over his now dead friend's body. And at the same time, here was your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at you as you cleaned up a particularly messy crime scene.

Oh, right, your boyfriend just walked in on you in the middle of your crime scene.

He was a witness to his friend's murder, as well as your own crimes.

"No... it's- it's..." you stuttered, tears welling up as you backed away from the dead body as if that'd make it any better for you.

One step, two steps, three steps of your boyfriend's boots echoed throughout the kitchen as he walked closer to you.

"D-Don't look at me, don't... don't look at me, Toji! You can't see me like this! I'm a monster-" as your eyes were closed out of fear and shame, you felt two fingers grip your chin surprisingly gently. You opened your eyes slowly, your boyfriend forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he murmured with a soothing undercurrent of love. "Geez, look at you... you're all covered in this sticky, disgusting blood. That's no look for a pretty girl like you, is it?"

You stayed silent, and he cocked his head to the side, almost amused by how shy you were being in this scenario. "Fine. If you wanna stay silent, then that's fine with me. But do you really think you oughta be embarrassed right now? Like I'd judge ya for anything... Do you remember when we first met, and I told you that I'd never, ever judge you in any circumstances? I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N). Even if you were covered in the blood of four different people, my love for you's never gonna waver."

You looked at him with more confusion than anything. Was he being serious right now? Weren't you a monster for killing one of his friends? "I'm confused..." you finally started, "are you not... disgusted with me? Aren't I a monster? I just- I just killed one of your friends!" you exclaimed.

Toji's eyebrows merely raised in amusement. "I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N)," he said once more. "I ain't goin' back on it, baby. Besides, it's not like I was friends with anyone other than Shiu to begin with--and he's my manager! She was pissin' me off anyway. She had the audacity to challenge me to a drinking contest and then decided to puke all over the new pants you bought me."

Your eye twitched when he brought up that knowledge.

"Doesn't she know that alcohol doesn't affect a big guy like me?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head out of amusement. "You did me a favor getting her off my back."

"So, you're really okay with what I did?" you asked once more. Toji shook his head and cupped your cheek gently with his calloused fingers.

"Do I gotta repeat myself thrice?"

"N-No, you don't gotta..." you trailed off.

"Good." He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up as well. "Y'know, I really didn't expect you to be such a little psychopath. I mean, you're all cute n' shit with your little mini skirts and your heels that I still don't know how you walk in. If I'd known you looked so hot covered in other people's blood, I would've taken you along with me on my missions."

You blushed profusely at all his little words and praises, and he cooed (again, out of amusement). "Look at you, all shy over a couple compliments thrown your way. You really are just a sweet thing underneath all that blood, aren't you?"

"Stop it, stop it!" You whined, swatting his hand away when he pinched your cheek.

In response, he put his hands up and chuckled again. "Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Now, would you like some help with cleaning this mess up, or would you rather I just bend you over this counter n' eat you out?"

You looked at him again, yet again out of confusion and bewilderment. "You wanna have sex with me... when I'm covered in blood, and in my own crime scene?" You asked, shrinking away from his touch.

"'Course I do; you look fuckin' sexy baby. Shit gets my dick hard seeing you so protective over me... I oughta reward you for havin' my back, anyway."

He reached out again, only for you to shrink away even further from his touch, making him click his tongue and sigh. "I think I'll pass," you muttered, throwing him a side-eye as well.

"The fuck are you side-eyeing me for? You're the one who killed a girl."

*°:⋆ₓₒ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 ˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was nothing short of a dreamboat, and you knew what you were getting into when you said "yes" to the first date. From the moment he picked you up wearing a crisp light blue button-up, slacks, and his silver-blue porsche, you knew he was gonna be one silver-tongued prince charming.

Not only was he sweet on the first date, but he was also sweet on the second, third, fourth--hell, even on your second anniversary, when he asked you to move in with him in his penthouse located in the heart of Ginza, you swore your knees buckled from underneath you and not because of the blue gown that he'd bought you after seeing it on your computer screen all those nights ago.

He was like a sweet saccharine fantasy, a delicious daydream which you never wanted to wake up from. His soft, snow-white hair; his incredibly vibrant blue eyes which seemed to have specks of every color in the galaxy and then some with flecks of purple, cerulean, indigo, and even a milky way here and there; his towering stature and lean muscles--god, you could go on and on about how dreamy he was! And the sex? Good god, he was a man who knew how to put it down.

The sweet little nicknames he had for you only furthered your infatuation for him: "hey there, sweet cheeks," was one rather childish one that he reserved for you.

"Lookin' good, princess," was probably the most fitting one that he had for you. It was his way of reminding you of how good he'd always treat you, how he'd always put you first above all else. After all, he used that name when he bought you a diamond tennis bracelet for your half-birthday.

While most people would've been worried that he was love-bombing you, you knew deep down that you had absolutely nothing to worry about!

Even his best friend, Suguru Geto, said as such at one of the many parties he threw.

After one of Satoru's weird little groupies made a snide remark about how he gave that treatment to anyone who would open their legs for him, he pulled you aside with one tattooed hand (he has tats IMO) and helped you lighten your mood. "Don't even listen to that chick, (Y/N), you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I haven't seen him look at anyone like that since, well, ever if I'm being honest--and I've known the man since grade school," the sorcerer said.

"You really think so?" You asked, a light smile gracing your features.

"I've been his best friend since we've both become sorcerers, (Y/N). I've seen him go through everything, even that phase when he decided to wear his hair like a Backstreet Boy for a day." now that was a joke that really brought that light back to your face.

"Okay, okay, I don't think I need that image in my head," you replied, waving your hands in front of you. He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

"Trust me, you don't. Now go find your boyfriend before he throws a fit; you know how he gets."

You had nothing to worry about when it came to your relationship--even his vigilant best friend thought so. But that lack of worry only extended to your boyfriend, not the countless groupies that threw themselves at him.

How many had you killed by now? 6? 7? Eh, you lost count by the time it reached double digits.

┆ . At one of his many parties that he threw on his yacht in the harbor, yet another groupie decided to take a chance on the already-taken sorcerer/heir of the Gojo clan, none other than your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Satoru. By then, you'd disregarded who any of the groupies were, only knowing them by hair color (if they dyed it some stupid color like pink or purple) or did something obscene to your boyfriend.

But that night at his summer party, a purple-haired groupie took it way too far: when you were returning from the bar with Satoru's favorite drink in hand, you saw her accidentally "trip" and fall into your boyfriend's lap. The hand holding your drink-of-choice was gripping your glass so tightly that it shattered in your hand, but the blaring music was loud enough to hide it.

"Whoopsie!" the girl said with fake-sincerity, giggling as she looked at her friends who obviously put her up to this shit.

Satoru, being the amazing boyfriend he was, pushed the girl off of his lap and looked rather annoyed at what she'd done: "hands off the merchandise! This seat's already taken."

The girl threw her hands up and gave him a fake apology, obviously not serious about it: "sorryyy, I tripped on my heels! You know how these things are."

But your brain didn't register it; it merely registered the sounds of the blood rushing through your body and your heartbeat's thumping. Your breathing quickened, and everything in your world was reduced to that stupid bitch and her stupid giggles and her stupid hair color.

Who the fuck does she think she is? She's not the one who's already been living with Satoru for over a year now. Her fake nails, her fake hair--she probably doesn't even want Satoru and instead wants some notoriety for being his groupie.

She shouldn't get to live; stupid whores like her shouldn't be alive to begin with.

She needs to know her place. I wonder how fast I can throw this drink at her head? Maybe it'll kill her if I'm hard enough-

"Yo, (Y/N)!" Satoru's voice said once he saw you a few feet away. "C'mere princess; I got this seat nice and ready for ya!" he said with a grin, patting his lap. You happily obliged, bounding over like a little puppy who was called by their owner for a tasty treat.

"Isn't she the cutest thing?" Shoko Ieiri asked her friend who nodded in agreement.

"Sato, baby, here's the drink you asked for," you said, your voice dripping with adoration like the sweetest ambrosia from the Garden of Eden. "Mine... spilled, sadly, but I can just get another one."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted that stupid whore trotting off down a hallway, headed to a bathroom by herself. An idea formed inside of your head, and your eyes narrowed and zeroed in on her fake purple hair.

"(Y/N), baby, look at me! This is my party!" Satoru protested, suddenly bringing your attention back to him with a cute little pout on his face.

"You don't mind if I go and use the ladies room? I'll be back before you know it," you asked with the subtlest croon you could muster up without bordering on corny.

"But, baby-"

"It's an emergency. You know how us girls get," you said with a smile, making Satoru relent reluctantly.

"Fine, fine... go on ahead, but don't get too distracted on your way there. Your boyfriend wants some attention," he muttered, placing a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and carded through his snow-like hair, getting right up off his lap and going in the same direction as that groupie.

Your Christian Dior heels tapped on the hardwood floors of the yacht, taking you down one of the hallways that seemed to go on for forever. Coincidentally, this was also the same hallway that led to your spare room; the one you used whenever you were mad at Satoru for whatever reason and felt like sleeping in another bed. You made sure to step as quietly as possible so as to not alert the girl of your presence; however, she made hers known by the sound of her shrill laughter coming from the bathroom.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him," she sang, clearly oblivious of the fear and rage coursing through your body. Was she seriously singing that fucking song right now, acting as if Satoru wasn't in a committed relationship?? Oh, she needed to be reminded of her place.

Like a soundless sabertooth, you stalked up to the door and opened it, acting as though you were merely freshening up in the bathroom. You took your lip gloss out of the bag that your boyfriend bought you on one of your many outings, swiping it over your lips.

"Oh, you're Satoru's girlfriend, right?" the chick asked once she recognized you. She pointed an acrylic at you, drawing your attention. "Hey, don't ignore me! It's not like you're anything special anyway."

"What do you mean?" you asked, deciding to provoke the beast yourself.

"Satoru swipes through relationships like it's nobody's business!"

"Groupies don't count as relationships."

"Just you wait. He's gonna abandon you for someone way hotter and way less annoying than you. I mean, I don't even know what the fuck he sees in you!" she exclaimed. "You're a 3 at best."

The chick continued to ramble on and on about how Satoru could do way better than you, and it was high time that she shut the fuck up already.

You grabbed the martini glass she was holding, wrenching it easily out of her hands, and you broke it on the marble countertop. You then took the sharp, pointy end and drew a deep, jagged cut on her neck with it, the tendons practically ripping in half with the intensity of your cut. She grabbed her neck and put two hands over the gash, gasping and breathing for air, only to have her hands cut by the glass. You stabbed her over and over again, screaming at her to "SHUT UP!" and "DIE ALREADY!!" You pushed her onto the ground and mounted her hips, driving the broken glass further in until her head disconnected from her body.

By the time you were finished with her dead body, she was practically unrecognizable. One of her eyes was open (the other was stabbed out), her head was severed, and the tendons in her neck were exposed. You didn't mean to get so carried away, but you let it happen anyway.

With a swipe to the eyebrow, you let out a "whew," only to realize that you had this huge mess to clean up. It's not every day that you manage to sever a head, after all.

"Nothing a little bleach can't deal with."

You took out the trusty bottle of bleach that you hid underneath the counter (in case of emergencies) and started unscrewing the cap. Just as you did that, though, you heard Satoru's whiny voice from behind the door calling out for you. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Normally, you would've entertained him, but right now you were standing over a dead body, your party dress covered in blood with a bottle of bleach in one of your hands and a broken glass in the other. If he were to see you right now, everything you've worked for would've been for nothing. All those dead bodies thrown into dumpsters, all those weapons that you kept hidden--it would've amounted to absolutely nothing! Your perfect life with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect friends would all go to shit, all because you couldn't control yourself around a fucking groupie with too many bad dyejobs for her own good.

"(Y/N), I'm coming in!" he said once more. He managed to yank the door open with his bare hands, and he couldn't have prepared himself for the sight in front of him.

There you were, his pretty little princess, standing over the dead body of one of his partygoers. His six eyes took in everything almost immediately: he noted the bottle of bleach, the sheer amount of blood that was on you, and just how mangled that corpse was. You looked down at the floor and you shut your eyes as tight as you possibly could, desperately hoping that it wasn't him, that it wasn't your amazing boyfriend who did nothing wrong.

"I-I'm sorry, I made a mess," you mumbled, tears flowing down your face and mixing with the metallic blood. He stayed longer than you thought was necessary, and you just braced for the inevitable look of disgust followed by the demand that you leave.

His footsteps echoed on the marble flooring and he crouched down to your level, taking his glasses off and looking at you.

"Just- I'll just get out of your hair after I clean this up-"

"Don't bother, princess. I'll just have one of my maids clean it up. A spoiled little thing like you shouldn't have to inhale all the bleach smell," he said with a chuckle. "My princess shouldn't even have to lift a finger in the first place."

You stopped looking at the floor, your head craning up slowly and looking at your boyfriend out of sheer confusion. "I don't- I don't understand..."

"What's not to understand?" he asked with a cocked head. "My girl's not gonna hold a single mop, not while she's with me."

"But... I just killed someone... aren't you afraid of me? Aren't you disgusted?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes remaining on you. "You think I'm gonna break up with you over some meaningless groupie? Don't be ridiculous, sweet cheeks. Now, if you'd somehow managed to kill someone like Shoko or Suguru, then I'd have a problem, although I am quite impressed that you managed to cut her head off with a martini glass... C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and into something nicer. We can't have my guests wondering why my date's all red and sticky, hmmm?"

You said nothing, instead following his lead as he snuck you into another room. He slipped your ruined party dress off, then he turned on the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, washing off all the blood that was on your face and your body.

"I still just can't believe that you'd accept this. Aren't you scared of me?" You asked once more, finally speaking up as he washed the blood off your soft skin.

"Hell nah, baby. You forget you're dating the strongest guy in all the land," he said with a sly wink. "Plus, I think it's cute; you're all protective over me. Who would've known that you had bark and bite?"

"You're such a freak, Satoru," you said with comically narrowed eyes. "I bet you find that shit hot, you narcissist."

Satoru merely laughed and shook his head. "You know me too well."

*:..｡o○ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒

╰┈➤ If there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was the widely accepted fact that having a work wife was considered the norm, especially in an office where people spent a good 9 hours a day typing away at their computers and drinking for another extra hour afterwards. Kento Nanami was the exception to the latter, though. You knew you were a lucky girl when your sweet, sweet boyfriend Kento told you on the third date that he was a homebody, and how he'd much rather just lie in bed with his lover than go out for drinks.

"I'm not really the extroverted type, if I'm being honest," the deliciously handsome blonde man said after taking a sip of his wine. "I'd much rather spend the night watching a movie or making dinner for my loved ones. I'm actually quite the cook, if you'd be interested in trying out some of my dishes. I don't even know why I decided to try out dating in the first place; it actually makes me quite nervous."

"I would love to try some of those meals out, but I think that we should try out some of your recipes later. It sounds like a fun date idea regardless! Maybe you could even teach me how to make those amazing meals? Perhaps the ones that you hold close to your heart? And, honestly, I'm not the going out type either. It took me so much to hype myself up for this date, but I'm glad I'm on it."

Kento smiled when you found the idea rather fun. He knew you'd be a great match for him, especially since he loved to make others smile by filling up their bellies with his own creations (double entendre?)

"But you? Nervous? Seriously? You've been nothing but kind to me, suave even. You're punctual, and you held the chair out for me to sit in. You're just my kinda guy, Kento. Those other tinder matches ain't got nothing on you."

He blushed at the usage of his first name, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. A naïveté towards norms, he presumed, but a naïveté he could appreciate.

Yeah, he knew you were a keeper.

You also quickly learned early on just how tight-knitted his schedule was, but what he lacked in time spent with you he made up for with romance and courting. He'd frequently send you flowers to your workplace and to your home; he took you to the finest restaurants and even the opera; and he made sure to text you regularly. The seven months you'd spent with him were some of the best of your life, and you prayed to god that you wouldn't fuck it up in any way. You were both dating for marriage, and he couldn't have found a better future wife.

Well, that's what he thought, at least. He didn't exactly know about your jealous tendencies, the tendencies that made you buy so many cleaning supplies and bottles of bleach, you started to receive discounts for the shit. The local utility store employees even thought you were a maid, given by the amount of disposable gloves that you went through.

"I should hire you as a maid someday, when I can actually pay for one at least," said the cashier of the home improvement store that you frequented (if you couldn't tell, he was low-key making a pass at you).

"A maid? I'm not-" you quickly stopped when you realized that this would give you a possible coverup and alibi if you needed one.

"I'm confused... aren't you a cleaning lady?" He asked once more.

"Oh, yeah! I totally just forgot all about my job!" You exclaimed, passing it off with a laugh and a smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking any more clients. I'll let you know when I am, though," you followed up with a wink.

Oh, how suave you were. You'd always been an expert at lying, and now was no different. In fact, with the amount of bodies you'd racked up, one could say you were the best liar in all of Japan.

And no, not in terms of sexual partners; you were a killer. A killer by textbook definitions, at least.

It's not like you wanted to kill all these girls! It's just that, with the amount of people that so obviously flocked to your boyfriend of seven months, you'd have to make sure that he wasn't getting any ideas.

It started out with the local call-girl that hollered at him when the two of you were walking home from a date. "Hey, suga! You ever thought about spending time with all this?" She hollered from the other side of the road. Nanami kept his cool and ignored her, passing her off as no more than a streetwalker trying to scam him for all his worth.

You made sure she was forgotten about, though; her body was found cut into pieces a few nights later by the garbage people.

Next came that stupidly innocent bakery worker (get the ref?). "Come again soon!" She called out to Kento after he bought a few pastries for the two of you. You came back a few nights later, and you wiped that innocent look off her face and replaced it with a wide cut on either sides of her mouth, along with a giant slash along her torso.

Soon it was girl #3, then #4, #5, and #6. By the time you hit your first anniversary, it was up to 11 people in total. You knew that your man was a desired man, but god, could people really not keep their hands and words to themselves?

#12 seemed to cause quite the nuisance for you, though. It just so happened that Kento had a "work-wife," or at least according to Miss Work-Wife herself when you met her at an office holiday party. After spending so much time together, your sweet Kento brought you to the party, intending to show you off to all of his jealous colleagues who couldn't keep a partner, even if they tried. He intended to have you on his arm, a subtle act of pride and showing off. He always kept to himself, so why not spice things up a little bit? It was his time to be selfish.

He seemed to have two women on his arm, though: you and the stupid work-wife who just couldn't stop butting into every single situation.

"Oh, so you're Kenny's girl? I didn't know that he liked the girly type; I always thought he'd be into the straight-laced, conservative type. But to each their own, I guess!" she remarked.

Oh how much you hated backhanded compliments. Could people really not understand just how bad they were at covering that shit up? She might as well have called you a brainless bimbo who wore heels that were too high to save her own life. As if she wasn't wearing a face full of fucking makeup, you thought to yourself. Glowy foundation is still foundation, regardless of how "low coverage" it was. And those clumpy ass eyelashes--why the fuck would your man associate with such lowly looking wenches? If he were to talk to women, the least he could do was talk to the nice looking ones. At least then you'd have something cute to carve into.

You'd made a vow to stop killing every woman you see, it wasn't fair to kill all of Kento's friends! He hadn't even given you a reason to doubt him. He was still the same suave gentleman from the very first date. It wasn't like those Reddit AITA posts where the men gradually started putting in less and less effort. If you were a sane person, that would be your train of thought.

But you're not sane--whoever said you were? You're crazy, and that's just a part of you. At least Ken had a loving girlfriend to come home to at the end of the night, even if you needed antipsychotics.

So, when you invited the chick over for drinks one late night, you made sure to do it with a certain plan in mind.

You were going to stab that stupid smile off her face, then dump her somewhere inconspicuous.

┆ . It was laughably easy for you to kill her. You swapped out the white carpet in your apartment for a black one that absorbed all the colors that flew into it, and brought out the spare furniture that you'd been meaning to get rid of a while ago. You even covered the walls with spare wall art that was also gonna go into the trash.

"It's so lovely of you to have me over for drinks, (Y/N)! I knew that from the moment I met you, the two of us were going to be friends," she said, stupidly oblivious to what was about to happen to her.

"Oh, well, I try to be as active in Kento's life as possible, and that includes making friends with his friends as well," you said smoothly, lying through your teeth. She wasn't his friend; he didn't even have her number saved. You grabbed a martini glass from your mini-bar and poured her a dirty martini, making extra sure that the poison didn't look too out of place. You even added pineapple juice to hide the slightly white film in the liquid, mixing it up with your drink mixer. "Y'know, I have a thing for mixology. Care to try one of my new concoctions?" You asked, handing her the glass.

"Would I?" she asked excitedly, taking the glass from you. She took a sip and let out an "ahh," looking satisfied with the drink.

"You like it?"

"Oh, you bet I do. I've always had a thing for pineapple juice."

About 10 minutes in, and she only barely started showing signs of fatigue, much to your fucking dismay. Whoever said that this poison was a fast acting agent must've gotten it on Canal St. "Gosh, I'm a little tired. Do you mind if I lie down?" she asked, already lying down on the couch.

"By all means, go ahead," you smiled, though deep down you wanted to peel her grimy face off your pillows with a potato peeler.

She yawned, stretching her hands above her head, only to have them fall back down on her torso and go to her heart. "My c-chest hurts a little," she laughed. "I've always had a problem with... heartburn. It's a genetic thing."

You took a sip of your own martini, already sick and tired of playing the long game. "It's not heartburn you stupid bitch; I poisoned your fucking drink." The obvious change of voice caught her heavily off guard, and she looked at you with bewilderment. "God, I am so sick and tired of hearing you yap, yap and yap about my boyfriend. Don't you know that one day, we're gonna get married? We don't need suck-ups like you to soak up all the attention."

"Wha- what do you mean?" she slurred, freaking out as she felt her chest tightening. "You put poison in my drink?! Are you... crazy?!"

"I am; I even take meds for it," you said nonchalantly, splashing around the martini in your cup. "Here, try some of mine, see if you like it better," you said cruelly, splashing the alcohol in her face and making her eyes burn. "You really should be wary of the people whose homes you walk into; you never know what exactly to expect with strangers. Especially if you're trying to steal their boyfriends."

"I-I'm not trying to-"

"Girl, please, I've poisoned you, I think it's time we cut the bullshit and the niceties, yeah? I've never been one to be nice anyway, at least not behind closed doors." You got up off the chair, walking to the nearby dresser and pulling out a knife. "When I first saw you, I knew I'd have to kill you eventually. Kento's a nice guy, and he shouldn't have whores like you around him. You're all just a bunch of fucking flies, do y'know that?" You asked, wiping the blade of your knife with a cloth. She could no longer speak, her face turning purple as she fumbled off the couch, crawling towards the door. "Don't even bother with that," you sneered, kicking her down and away from the door. She meekly crawled away, only to have her hair pulled back forcefully by you.

"Have you ever had someone try to steal your boyfriend before? Lemme tell you: it's not a fun feeling. The idea that people would be so dumb as to lay their paws on what's yours... I know my Kento's a dreamboat, but there are other eligible bachelors to choose from in this city. Unluckily for you, you picked the wrong one, because that boy is mine."

You grabbed her and hauled her over to where you had a tarp laid out in the kitchen, and you brought the knife to her neck. "Take a long, last look at this filet mignon, because it's what's gonna be the last thing you fucking see." You then cut it across her throat, hard enough to almost rip her head off of her spine. "Maybe in your next life, you won't be such a whore."

She fumbled about, her hands going to her neck, only for you to grab the knife and stab her brain, effectively killing her. "Poison was taking too long, anyway," you muttered.

The murder was quite clean and it went pretty smoothly, although you'd wished it was the poison instead.

"I'll make sure to give it a one star," you muttered, holding the poison.

You stood up, reaching out for a nearby smock to wipe your hands clean of the blood. You thought you were in the clear, your twelfth kill under your leather belt, only for a voice behind you to disturb the serenity: "love? Are you home? I wanted to surprise you-"

You stopped in your tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights. It didn't take a genius, much less his girlfriend of over a year to realize who it was behind you.

Were you really that idiotic? Did you forget to lock the door?

You looked in the reflection of the kitchen window, seeing Kento's puzzled expression on his face. He was even holding pink roses in one of his arms and had chocolates in the other.

"Ken... I didn't mean for you to- you shouldn't have to see this mess-"

You stopped for a second, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You turned around, nothing but fear written on your typically calm and gorgeous features. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this," you said, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could guess that," he remarked, his voice as soft as ever. He knew that you were quite fragile in this moment, so he was careful to walk closer to you and wrap his strong arms around your frame once he got to his destination.

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to do or say when he hugged you. Wasn't he... afraid? Wasn't he disgusted by you having killed one of his coworkers?

"I meant to surprise you tonight with dinner. I brought you some takeaway from your favorite place, and I even bought you roses."

You looked down at the bouquet of pink roses that were freshly picked and bought from the local florist. Some of the blood on your hands dripped onto a petal, staining it a hauntingly beautiful color, somehow making this whole situation more romantic.

You'd only ever hurt people, so why was this situation so comforting?

"Thank you, Kento... I appreciate it," you muttered, still reeling from the realization that Kento glossed over the fact that you were the person responsible for all those murders in the newspapers. You wondered if he knew that all this time, his wonderful, graceful girlfriend was the one killing and maiming random girls. He took you to the sink and washed all the blood off your hands with some bleach, then scrubbed the bleach clean with a lavender-scented hand soap.

"Careful now, we wouldn't wanna stain your dress, would we? Not when you're already date night ready," he remarked, his deep voice a soothing balm to your ears.

You simply nodded, going along with whatever he said. After washing them off clean, he wrapped up the tarp and made extra sure not to spill any of the bodily fluids anywhere, putting it in a spare closet nearby. You stood there, watching as your boyfriend cleaned up your crime scene in your apartment. You watched his features, and you couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

He guided you back to the dining table where the bag of food was. He set out plates and cutlery for the two of you, not letting you lift a single finger. Once the two of you sat down, he started eating in silence when he saw you looking at him.

"(Y/N), don't let it go cold. Eat up," he instructed softly.

You obliged, picking up your fork and eating the red meat hesitantly. Red meat, how poetic.

"Kento," you started, putting your fork down and looking up at the blonde man. "We're gonna have to talk about it eventually."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just... not over red meat, okay?"

You simply nodded, going back to your food. You ate more comfortably, the knowledge that you no longer had the secret hidden making you rest easier now. Perhaps he did know already, and he just didn't wanna make you any more worried than you already were by bringing it up. Perhaps he was put off by it, but he was willing to gloss over it and act like it didn't matter. Whatever the reason might've been, you could rest easy knowing that your boyfriend wasn't going anywhere.

"Work was quite eventful today. They handed out promotions, and I was one of the lucky few who got one." He looked up at you after swallowing his food, carefully watching your expression and making sure you were alright.

"That's great news, Kento, I'm happy for you." He smiled softly at your acquiescence, happy to finally change the topic.

Blood always seemed to scared him.

I hope this was good enough... 👅

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/10/2024

[xenteaart]

when you're feeling weak, i'll be the words if you can't speak

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression and anxiety. reader is feeling off and insecure. also kinda going almost non verbal author's note: a short lil songfic ig coz it's inspired by Isak Danielson – I Can't Lose You. basically channie being a comfort boyfie material

to put it simply, you were never not anxious or insecure. but stepping into the big adult life, you sort of learned to conceal it well, even from your own self. the fake it till you make it thing, and you could even say you've "made it" with a small exception of the days where your brain and your entire nervous system randomly circled back to your default settings. "so what are you gonna eat, baby?" chan asks with a cheerful soft tone, glancing over the menu and then back at you.

today's a good day. you haven't been too overwhelmed with work, nothing out of the ordinary happened. so naturally, a pinch of guilt somewhere deep in your guts makes you feel like a bother to be around, and today — for no good reason.

"are you okay?" he notices your slightly spaced out gaze when you're trying to read the menu but not really reading, more like frowning and getting nervous.

"yeah.. no. no, i don't know," you murmur barely audibly, losing your focus for the tenth time in a span of the last five minutes. brain fog takes over, making your vision blurrier than normal and your thinking all floaty and hazy. as if you're looking at the world through dirty lenses, but also the lights are too bright and your surroundings are loud.

"i dunno, i just..." can't even speak for myself today and choose a meal and say it out loud because suddenly everything is embarrassing and difficult.

chris looks slightly worried because you might be in pain or feeling unwell, but nothing hurts except your pride. because you're a big girl, you have been for years, and now you want to cry on the spot because you can't choose between pasta and soup all of a sudden. it makes you feel even more stupid.

"can you please choose and order for me today? my brain just can't," you try to explain, visibly stressed and overwhelmed by a simple mundane task, "i want somethin' warm and filling," you specify to make it easier for chan.

he doesn't make a big deal out of it, just nods and meets you with a gentle 'course, baby. he then talks to the waiter and makes sure they don't ask you anything which feels like a relief. sometimes it's nice to feel invisible, especially in a vulnerable state.

after the horrifying deed is over with, chris leans in a little closer to be able to speak in a softer, quieter voice.

"d'you wanna just have dinner in silence and head home?" he asks while massaging your palm with his fingers soothingly, so calm and nonchalant as if you didn't just obsess over the smallest thing to the point of making yourself filled with shame and insecurity.

that's how chris always does it. by showing you that whatever it is that's bothering you is not a burden to him. he's got you. it's okay if you want or rather need him to do something for you. he's happy to be your strong shoulder to lean onto and not think about a single thing while he takes care of whatever it is at the time.

"yeah. or you can tell me about your day and stuff. i wanna know and i'm okay with listening. just not... responding, maybe?" you give him an awkward smile as he nods understandingly and plants a little kiss on the back of your hand. a modern gentleman and a caring lover.

somewhere in the middle of a story about how cubase was lagging and almost crashed mid producing session today, the waiter brings your meals. it's two pumpkin cream soups, some grilled and seasoned breads and a fresh greek salad to share.

oh, to be loved like this.

your stomach growls at the smell of food, and a bright proud smile is instantly painted over chan's features.

[xlpoww]

bad for business

hi!! this is my second attempt at writing since middle school- so excuse me for it being so short/bad lol!! i had started recently watching one piece with my boyfriend and then the live action came out and i fell even more head over heels in love with sanji this is a result of that

no warnings!

word count: 620

opla! sanji x f!reader

songfic-> bad for business by sabrina carpenter

CONTINUATION (but also not a part 2) jealousy, jealousy

life on the baratie wasn’t always easy, lovely nonetheless. you couldn’t imagine trading it for anything, even if it meant having to watch your flirtatious crush work his magic on every lady in the room.

good for his heart..

sanji vinsmoke is a flirt. no one talks sweeter than the young chef with dreams of the all blue.

“now what for the lovely mademoiselle?” 

his voice floats through the air with a charm none could replicate. you don't even have to turn your head to know the question was paired with a charming smile. he might have even winked at the girl. 

her flustered giggle fills the air as she blushes up at the blonde. ordering with a smile like she’s won the lottery, her blue eyes lock on him as he retreats to the kitchen for the wine requested. 

with a chuckle and and shake of your head, you continue clearing the table in front of you. the tall blonde man was quite the smooth talker, and did a wonderful job to keep the woman with deep pockets coming back. so who were you to complain that he was so sweet?

his heart was already spoken for.

…but very bad for business

you’re no stranger to the lustful stares of the restaurant guests, and have learned to mostly turn a blind eye to them. though, every once in a while a girl takes it a little too far with him.

as you walk by her table, tray full of food in hand, you can’t help but notice her heated stare. it wasn’t directed at you, but your best friend speaking to another round table of guests. slightly on guard, you continue on towards table 6, smiling sweetly at the brunette man who winks at you as you place the ribs down on the table in front of him. 

“I didn’t realize Baratie had started hiring models? how much do they pay a pretty thing like you huh?”

you feign bashfulness, looking off to the side with a giggle.

“not enough you make it seem”

of course you’re more than used to the gross things some of the guests would utter about you (to your face nonetheless); so you knew to brace yourself a bit. but the man doesn’t escalate any further, shaking his head with a laugh that hints to you the size of the tip you’ll be getting. you turn back to him, once again smiling and telling him to let you know if they needed anything else, tucking your tray under your arm and walking back towards the kitchen.

all of my friends think i've gone crazy-

“that blonde at table 8 seems to have her eye on you-” you jest, walking up to sanji with a waggle of your eyebrows. he scoffs at you, a smile forming as he winks 

“doesn’t every woman who walks into the restaurant?” he brushes past you, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he goes. you find yourself turning your head to follow his movement, grabbing onto his hand and using it to pull him closer. he seems surprised when you tug him down to your level to whisper in his ear.

“i'm sure i could show you a better time than she could” a wink finished off your flirty statement. it’s a it of a struggle to hold in the satisfied giggle, and you walk back off to go take another table’s order.

sanji’s face is dusted with a pretty pink as he stares after you, not that you would have been able to notice. 

you would also fail to hear the teasing of some of the kitchen staff after you left,

“damn casanova, i’ve never seen you left so speechless”

“she’s gonna give you a run for your money lover boy!”

there was a way only you could make his heart race.

-but they don't know me like my babyyy

[swiftiewillwrite]

how you get the girl

jason todd x reader

fanart by @twalxx (found on pinterest)

pairing - jason todd x reader

warnings - smut! starts angsty, fluff and smut later :))

a/n - this is my first smut, but i had like all of my friends proof read so im super excited to share this with yall! songfic based on how you get the girl by taylor swift (and a bit of i wish you would)

Things had ended with Jason, but it hadn't had the desired effect.

It was just too painful when you were together, the not knowing. Not knowing if he was safe every night. Not knowing if you were safe. You were scared constantly, just never knowing. All you wanted was for him to be safe.

—

You realized you couldn't do it anymore when he went no contact for two days.

You had thought he was dead. You were pacing your townhouse nonstop, music following suit. Trying to drown out the silence and your thoughts. You plopped onto the couch, picturing every other time this had happened in your mind. The pain you felt every night, that worsened every time another hour went by. So you made your decision.

When he finally came home that night, ready to run into your arms, you closed them. and you fought. The front door opened and shut and all the built-up anger from two years of sleepless nights and not letting yourself be selfish flooded out of you.

“What the hell, Jason? Are you okay? I thought you were dead, you asshole!”

The tone in your voice shocked him, you could see it in his eyes. “What?”

Your tears were threatening to spill from your already red eyes, but you didn't let that stop you. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek. “I'm sorry, it's just-, I can't do this! Every week, I have to grapple with the fact that you could be dead! And what if you were? You can't come back every time you die, you know that!”

“What- what do you want me to do? There are always going to be people getting hurt, you know that.”

“Exactly. And I will never come first. You’re just too fucking good a person, Jason. you never let yourself be selfish! I wanted you to put us first.” You look at him; “Just go.”

“Is this for real?” And now tears were welling up in his eyes. “This was all so fast.”

“This was the opposite of fast. I just tried not to see it. Because I love you so, so, much Jason, that's why I can't do this. Just- send one of your siblings to get your stuff tomorrow.”

He pauses. “Okay, Doll, if this is what you want, I will go.”

“Don't call me that, you're gonna make this too hard,” You hear yourself let out an embarrassing snort through your snot and tears.

“Then can I kiss you goodbye, instead?”

Already sobbing, you nod.

—

And now you can't get him out of your head. It's been six months, and he won’t get out. Every time you see lights through your window coming from the street, you think maybe. Maybe he came home to you.

And you just hope that when he's out every night, saving more damsels, he thinks about your home in the center of the city.

Every night you prayed that he would come back. And say that he wants you, no matter what. Even if it was you who broke his heart, because you also broke your own. You wished for it like it was the only thing that kept you going, because it was.

But you never really believed your wish would come true. You had already burnt that bridge. And in doing so, burned away your past. Your friendships with the Waynes, every late night spent tending wounds.

2 A.M. another late night, doing anything you could to get your mind off of him. Especially tonight. The twenty-seventh of April. For the past two years, on this day, Jason had been in your bed. You held him, and told him he was safe. Safe from what happened to him on this day, years before you were able to take care of him. Your bed was empty, and it killed you to know he was probably in his own, having the nightmares you worked so hard to keep him safe from.

2 A.M. A rough and fast knock against your front door cuts through the sound of the pouring rain, and you find yourself looking through the peephole of your townhouse. Eye level with you is Jason Todd, curly hair soaked. You could see his breath in the cold, and how little his unzipped leather jacket was doing to keep him warm. You pull the door open.

“Are you insane?”

“I know, I just- I need you. Sweetheart, I need you back. God, it's been a long six months. I know, I fucked you up, I fucked us up, and that is reason enough for you to slam the door in my face, but..” he trailed off and made eye contact with you; “I will make it up to you. I just need you tonight. You know what tonight is, I know that you didn't forget,” He was pleading, eyebrows furrowed and tears welling in his eyes. “I can't get through tonight without you,”

And before you can process it, you're leaning in and your lips are on his again, and it feels like home. They're soft against you and feel the same as they did the last time you touched six months ago, if just more desperate. He wraps his arms around your back, embracing you tightly. You pull away for a quick second just to say: “Come in, stay the night. I missed you too. We can talk this through in the morning.”

He enters the home that had missed him so much, and you close the door behind him as fast as you can. He dives back for your lips, like a man who had been lost in the desert finally getting water. It was passionate, and for a moment made you forget that you had waited for so long. It just felt like before, and for the meantime would put a band-aid over the months of pain. You kissed him through the hallway, pushing him back to your room, and somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket. When you got to the bedroom, you shoved him against the door, biting his lips and letting yourself absolutely lose control on his mouth. When you pulled away, you could see that it was swollen and redder than when you had started.

You slowly moved down his neck, starting with a hickey on his jaw in a spot that you knew was his favorite place. He breathed out your name, giving you motivation to move down and kiss his adams apple. “Jesus, doll,”

You spread out, leaving marks all over his neck. The closer you got to his collarbone, the more vocal he was, letting out a dozen sickly-sweet nicknames for you. You start to make another bruise on his neck, but he squeaks out a “stop,”

You pull back. “Is something wrong?” for a moment fear creeps into your mind, and you remember. You haven't seen him in months, what if this is too much? This is the anniversary of his death, for god's sake-

“Can we move to the bed?”

Oh.

“Yeah, if you're ready-” you cut yourself off when Jay removes his shirt as youre speaking, revealing a tapestry of scars. A breath catches in your throat. Shit, you had almost forgotten how good he looks shirtless. Almost. “Yeah, okay,” You follow suit, pulling your shirt over your head and fumbling at your bra hooks.

You both stumble down the hallway, when you sit on the bed, back against the headboard. Jason looks at you like you're his last meal, and sits in between your legs, hands already reaching for your breasts.

Almost immediately, his fingers are tugging at your nipples and his lips are suckling at them. you squeal each time he bites at your nipples and he's moving back and forth between each like he can't choose his favorite, and humming nicknames for you every time he stops to breathe. After a couple minutes of sweet bliss, you put your hand in his still damp curls and push him off of you.

“Jay, I think you need some attention too.” you put his hand on his chest and push him down so he's lying on his back. You struggled with yanking his jeans down his legs as they were still wet with rainwater, but you managed. He starts: -wait, I didn't even get to- When you get down his boxers, his erection springing free, and he gasps, cutting himself off at the sensation of the cold air hitting him.

You settle in between his legs, wrapping a hand around him. Your thumb finds his tip and spreads his precum over his length, lubricating it for your hand to move. This elicits a reaction from him. “Jesus sweetheart, you never stop,”

You're confused. “Stop what?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his tip. He grunts.

“Making my heart pound out o’ my fucking chest, Doll,” He puts a hand on your cheek. “Never - fuck - stop.” you tighten your grip on his cock halfway through this phrase.

This makes you smile profusely, and to mask the grin, you open your mouth and fill it with the familiar feeling of Jason's member. He nearly howls in response, a string of profanities falling out of his mouth.

You look up at him with eyes you know he loves, and you hollow out your cheeks to - just for a second - suck harder. After this, you run your tongue along his base and pull off of him with a pop.

“Wait no- why- why did you stop? Baby, why did you stop?” Jason starts to whine, a sound you would never forget in your life, and you giggle.

“Relax,” you smile as you move to sit on top of him. You pull your shorts off, taking the panties with them. “I just want to ride you,”

“You're ready? Doll, I didn't even touch you, are you sure it won't hurt- ohmygod!”

You had started to lower yourself onto Jason's cock as he spoke, enjoying the way he was extra vocal when he didn't expect it. You leaned down to kiss him, and it was softer this time. Sweeter, romantic. Loving, not just lustful. And you can feel it, the affection for you that he had never lost. You pull away, your breathing fast and heavy, to say:

“I still love you,”

“I love you too,”

And just like that, it feels normal again. No time has passed and you got through another year together, trying to make what had once been the worst night in his life liveable. You laugh as you continue to lower yourself onto him, but the sound is garbled through a moan.

“What?” he asks, voice gruff from the pleasure.

“Nothing, it just did hurt a little, you were right.” Your eyes are sparkling, and your smile is somehow more beautiful than he remembered.

Jason smiled at you from his place on the bed, starstruck by you, and reached his arm between your legs to rub at your clit. You let out a whine that made you feel pathetic, but Jay reached behind your back to hold your chest against him, letting your bodies line up in an embrace that you were unsure if he knew was reassuring, or was just doing it to be closer to you. Either way, you were glad for the contact, and the feeling of his arm pressed between yours and his chest.

Jason's grin glinted in the warm lighting of your bedroom. You're reminded of a chip in one of his front teeth that you find all too endearing before he speaks. “Can you move, baby?” He punctuates this with pressing a circle against your clit. He smiles wider when you arch your back, pressing your tits harder onto him. You take a moment to regain words, but respond after a moment.

“Yeah,” you responded breathily, returning his smile. You lift your hips up and slowly lower yourself back down. Jason groans loudly, something that resembles your name falling from his mouth. Something snaps inside of you at the noise you had missed so much, and the next time you pull up, you slam yourself down on him.

“Holy fucking shit! Sweetheart, don't you need to take it sl- oh my god, oh my god, you're so perfect,” you continue this pattern, speeding up when he rubs your clit in that perfect way he would never forget.

You continue, sick slapping sounds filling the room. The muscles in your thighs and lower back are sore, and you start to slow down, sitting up so you're no longer lying on him. “ ‘M sorry Jaybird, I just - haven't done this in a while.” You look at your lover apologetically, but he doesn't speak a word back. All Jason does is grab your waist, looking into your eyes for a nod before he takes control.

He pumps up into you, hips lifting off the mattress and pushing deeper into you. You let out a pleasured scream, putting your hands on Jason's pecs, rolling a nipple in between your fingers absentmindedly. His thrusting speeds up when you start doing this. “Jason- Jesus Christ, so good.”

“Yeah? I know baby, I know it feels good,” another of his moans interrupts his sentence, but he continues- “You make me feel good too. So good.”

Somehow his thrusts get more rushed, pushing deeper into you. You let out a pitiful scream when he presses against your cervix, pain mixing into pleasure at the feeling of him bruising you. Jason hears you, and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. You can tell he's close. “Baby, I'm gonna- where do you want it?” He whines, and your walls tighten at the sight of his eyes pleading with yours.

“Inside.”

“Baby, are you sure-”

“Please, Jason. Pill,” You start to beg, even though he hadn't asked for you to. “I need it. Need you. Missed you so much. Please!”

During your last word, you feel him release into you. Jason's hips sputter as he lets out another slightly pained moan. He lets his cock sit inside you for a moment, before he pulls himself out, his still hard cock sitting against his stomach. “Baby, get off. Let me make you cum. Let me clean you off.”

You blush at his words, as if you haven't fucked him a million times, nodding as you move off and onto the mattress. Jason repositions so you can rest your head on a pillow, pulling another to rest under your ass and lift you up.

Once you've settled as quickly as possible, Jason puts his face right against your pussy, admiring the way his cum mixes with your juices, spilling out of you. He starts with licking a stripe up your slit, and the image of his cum on his own tongue will never leave your brain, and causes your walls to tighten before he even puts a finger inside. He swallows, and goes back to licking into your hole, one hand absentmindedly rolling your clit in between his fingers as the other one squeezes your thigh. He moves them down from your clit to press into your hole, mouth instead focusing on your clit.

“Fuck, Jason!” He looks up at you, puppy dog eyes somehow turning you on more than you already were. He holds eye contact with you as he presses a third finger into you, curving to press against your sweet spot. You tangle a hand into his damp curls, pressing him onto your cunt.

Your walls tighten around his fingers, and he puts all of his effort into sucking and lapping at your clit. He hums on the bud, sending vibrations through your core. When you approach the edge, he starts licking at it instead, flicking the muscle back and forth. He talks into your pussy, praises for you being drowned in the flesh.

He lifts his head up for a gasping breath, still moving his fingers inside of you and quickly muttering: “Cum for me,” before diving back in. You listened, one last touch of your clit sending you over the edge. As you cum, Jason laps up the liquid that had leaked out of you over the night, flattening his tongue against your skin as he collects the last he can without a towel.

You shudder as he sits up, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your stomach before getting up from the bed. A moment of panic comes over you before-

“Are your washclothes still in the same place?” He asks softly. You nod at him, feeling too fucked out to speak, and watch him leave your bedroom.

After 30 seconds, he returns with a damp washcloth, and settles back in between your legs to wipe off your legs, pressing kisses on your inner thighs. As he moves up to your overstimulated cunt, he reaches for your hand. When the cloth passes over your sensitive spots, you squeeze his hand. After a few minutes of tender silence, he returns to your side, head on the pillow next to you.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“Hi,” you giggle back. After a brief pause, you continue: “I'm sorry. I was inconsiderate. When we broke up. I know what you do is important, and people need you-”

You're cut off by a kiss. “No. I needed to communicate more. And either way, it doesn't matter.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, “This is a fresh start,” he takes a breath in. “But really, I love you so much.”

You giggle, which seems to confuse him. Through your laugh, you attempt to speak- “Would you say- most ardently?” He rolls his eyes at the reference to his favorite book, but still leans in to press a peck to your lips.

“I love you most ardently,” he smiles at you.

“Good.”

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Numb Without You

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Mature 18+ (explicit sex, smut, language, mild violence)

Summary: Sebastian Sallow, who happens to be your boyfriend, becomes irate when you agree to be Leander Prewett's dueling partner in Crossed Wands. He tries his best to punish you, but lust has a way of softening even the sharpest tempers.

Notes: Just a ramble-y little one-shot songfic thing that ended up being a lot longer than I'd planned. Not sure I like this but so it goes. Characters are 18 and in their seventh year. Gets smutty so minors DNI.

This was inspired by the song "Numb Without You" by The Maine. Lyrics are italicized and I obviously don't own them. (Is use of lyrics in stories annoying? Do they add anything? Do you skim past them? I'm curious to know your thoughts.)

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow gnawed at the inside of his cheek.

It was his only defense against himself and the overwhelming urge to commit an act so violent, he’d surely be expelled. He chewed at the soft flesh, stewing in his fury until Lucan Brattleby took notice of him.

“Ah, Sebastian!” Lucan said cheerily, clearly naive to Sebastian’s simmering fury. “You made it. We were wondering where you were. Wouldn’t be like you to miss Crossed Wands.”

Sebastian tore his eyes from the source of his anger to briefly gaze down at Lucan. “Got held up in Potions,” he said tersely. 

Stupid Potions. Professor Sharp made him remain after class until he could perfect his powdering technique for asphodel root. The process made Sebastian 20 minutes late for Crossed Wands, and though the day’s duels weren’t part of an official tournament, he was eager to get some practice in.

Life had finally returned to some semblance of normalcy for Sebastian. After his tumultuous fifth year, he dedicated his entire sixth year to focusing on his studies and making amends so that he could spend his seventh year preparing for life after Hogwarts.

Anne had left Feldcroft to live with a family friend in Edinburgh. She threatened to turn Sebastian in for their uncle’s murder if he didn’t agree to drop his pursuit for a cure for her curse. Sebastian, no longer driven by the dark magic of the relic, reluctantly agreed. But Anne was at least returning his owls, even if she hadn’t seen him since that fateful day in the Feldcroft catacomb.

Ominis was also hesitant to come around. The decision to protect Sebastian rather than turn him in weighed greatly on him for much of their sixth year, but before the year ended, he found himself returning to the Undercroft to catch up with Sebastian and repair their severed relationship.

Then there was you. You backed Sebastian without a second thought after Solomon’s death. Your loyalty to him developed long before you even realized you loved him. 

You aren’t sure where that devotion came from, considering Sebastian had dragged you through Hell and back. He was cruel and stubborn with you at times, put your life in danger on numerous occasions, and then put his future unfairly in your hands with his biggest kept secret.

But as the two of you stood in the Undercroft one day, shouting your frustrations at one another, you accused him of using you the entire time. You told him he’d only befriended you when he realized you had powers and skills that could help Anne. Then you accused him of only pretending to care about you because you knew the truth about Solomon. But when you turned to leave, he begged you to stay.

“I’ve never used you,” he said, his voice dipping to something much lower and softer than you’d heard from him. “I need you.”

So you stayed and you watched Sebastian Sallow shift from a teenage boy misguided by dark magic to a man who hated himself and the choices that changed him. 

He opened up to you that day, spilling every anguished thought and insecurity he had – his regrets, his fears, his entire self-worth. And you hugged him and assured him that everything would turn out OK. Then you promised you’d never leave him.

Since that day, he’d more than held you to that promise. He clung to it like it was his lifeline – the final, fragile thread holding him together.

Without Ominis and Anne to lean on, you became Sebastian’s world. It all became clear during the summer before your seventh year, which you spent together in Feldcroft. 

The two of you worked to fix up the Sallow family home, which now belonged to Sebastian. You teased him, telling him it was time for him to start a family to fill the cottage. You joked and laughed about the notion that Sebastian could someday be a father. And then he retorted that he’d need a wife first, and the way he gazed at you made it clear he already had a candidate in mind.

And so, your romantic relationship with Sebastian started that day, in the quiet confines of his cottage. Someday, it would also be yours.

You returned to Hogwarts for your seventh year as a couple, to absolutely no one’s surprise. Even Professor Weasley said, “It was about time,” when she discovered the two of you locking lips in a quiet corner beneath a staircase.

So you and Sebastian transformed from best friends to lovers, Hogwarts’ hot new couple. That was three months ago, so by now, everyone knew they’d be better off wandering into a pond of dugbogs than trying to romance you. If you didn’t hex them for crossing boundaries, Sebastian surely would – or worse. 

That’s why Sebastian was currently seeing red.

His tardiness to the day’s Crossed Wands session forced you to find a new partner. You didn’t want to duel alongside anyone else. You and Sebastian had cemented yourselves as the king and queen of Crossed Wands, unbeaten since the day you started. 

You loved dueling together. Perhaps it was nostalgic in some ways, a reminder of the early stages of your friendship when you were fighting Ranrok’s loyalists, but it was also symbolic of your relationship – the two of you worked so well together, always in sync and never fearful of your opponents.

But Leander Prewett noticed Sebastian’s absence and pounced at the opportunity to call you his partner, even just for an afternoon.

You didn’t read much into it, but when Leander suggested the two of you hang out at the Three Broomsticks later on, you wondered if the Gryffindor was being far too brave for his own good.

Still, you agreed to duel together and the two of you made quick work of your first two pairs of opponents (though Leander was mediocre at best). 

You were too preoccupied to notice Sebastian’s arrival midway through your second duel, so you didn’t see the way he stared at you and Leander.

He clenched his jaw so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack. And as you shoved your way in front of Leander to protect him with a perfectly timed Protego spell with Sebastian looking on, you and Leander would have been safer in an acromantula’s nest. 

The noise inside the clock tower became a background hum as Sebastian dissociated, a surge of panic and rage ballooning inside his chest. He could hear Lucan speaking in his ear but didn’t register the words. Spells clanged off of wood crates and ricocheted off the stone walls but he took no notice.

The only time he tore his eyes from you was to turn to Lucan.

”I get next round,” Sebastian said quietly. It wasn’t a request.

Lucan looked up at him in surprise. “Do you have a partner?”

”I don’t need one.”

Lucan lit up in excitement, clearly oblivious to the repository of rage that had formed in Sebastian’s brain. “Wicked,” he said with a nod.

You always joked that jealousy didn’t look good on Sebastian, but truthfully, it did. His eyes darkened and he became focused. You loved the way he looked when he was brooding. So when Lucan announced the next round and Sebastian emerged from the top step of the clock tower entrance, you inhaled sharply.

That old adage, “If looks could kill” buzzed in your brain. And poor Leander was as good as dead.

“Sebastian!” you said, relieved to see him, yet terrified for what was likely about to happen. “You made it!”

But your expression quickly contorted into concern when you saw his face.

You knew that look. And it terrified you, because you’d only seen it on select occasions. Only when Sebastian was borderline manic.

You’d seen Sebastian’s jealousy manifest plenty of times, the worst being the way he damn near demolished a man for flirting with you during a visit to Irondale. You knew he thought Leander was a prat and that he’d be annoyed you agreed to partner with him, but you had hoped the two of you would be able to laugh about it later. 

You should have known better. Sebastian could be playful, but he didn’t play when it came to you.

Let's get this straight. You are a panic in the bloodstream, yet you bring me peace. You are a stutter in the heart that beats inside of me.

As the students who were crowded inside the clock tower realized what was about to happen, the air inside the room became heavy and tense. The crowd collectively stepped back, melting to the stone walls to make room.

“Sebastian, are you all right?” you asked, your eyes begging him to understand it was all in good fun. You’d never actually betray him. 

You loved him.

But Sebastian wasn’t looking at you anyway. He was glaring knives into Leander, who didn’t seem to understand he was nearing his own execution.

You are my last, you are my first. You kill me for the better. You are the rising tide. You're every fucking thing inside me now.

”Sebastian, relax,” you said in a reasoning tone, silently praying your soothing voice might relieve his ire. “It’s just a meaningless duel. Let’s have fun with it.”

Sebastian’s gaze finally shifted to you. It softened a bit, but there was still a blackness in his eyes that made you nervous.

You knew he’d never really hurt you. Not again, not after the scriptorium. He’d die before he allowed that. The two of you dueled each other all the time, countless hours in the Undercroft casting Confringo at one another. He’d never pushed too far or risked anything that could genuinely hurt you. You’d be safe because Sebastian loved you far too much to hurt you — and because he knew you’d put up too good of a fight anyway.

But for as much as Sebastian loved and cherished you, his Achilles had become the notion that anyone else could ever be permitted to do the same. 

You are the violence in my veins. You are the war inside my brain. You are my glitter and my gloom. I am so numb without you.

“Of course, love,” he said steadily as he slid his wand from his pocket. And you knew that his quiet, calm demeanor indicated a brutal battle was to come.

As soon as Lucan signaled the start of the duel, Sebastian fired a fury of offensive spells at Leander, one after another in rapid succession. You knew they were coming, but you could only do so much.

“Protego!” you cried as you shielded your partner, your bubble deflecting Sebastian’s onslaught.

That only seemed to irk Sebastian more as he sent a stinging hex your way. You dodged it and Leander chuckled. He still didn’t seem to fully grasp his predicament. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” he teased Sebastian. 

“Leander,” you hissed in aggravation. 

A basic cast whizzed past your ear and you flinched, dropping your shield charm. You straightened and hit Sebastian with Depulso, buying yourself some time.

“Leander,” you said again, your tone much more urgent as you willed your partner to take things seriously. “Focus.”

Leander snorted and used the opportunity to cast Diffindo. You winced as the spell largely missed, but just managed to nick Sebastian’s side. Blood began to seep through his white shirt but you knew better than to stop, especially when you noticed how your boyfriend’s eyes blazed.

“Sebastian, enough,” you tried to say firmly as Leander cast Incendio to put some distance between himself and Sebastian. But the only thing that burned hotter than the ring of fire was Sebastian’s temper.

“Aguamenti,” he mumbled to douse the flames with water. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked – that signature smirk that typically rendered you weak in the knees. But this time, you sensed danger.

“Sebastian, it’s just you and me,” you said, praying your words would land with him.

Sebastian nodded as your eyes locked. You begged him with your gaze to understand, and he did.

You and me. Those words had become your mantra over the past three years. You and Sebastian would whisper them to one another before raiding bandit camps, fighting Ashwinders and solving sinister puzzles. But you also spoke them in your intimate moments, when it was just the two of you savoring each other’s company. 

Something about that phrase comforted the two of you. You knew it had reassured Sebastian, but you also knew he was far too impish to simply stop the duel.

“Alarte Ascendare!” 

Sebastian’s spell sent Leander flying backward again. Leander coughed and sputtered. The way he grimaced confirmed he’d likely cracked a rib or two. It also confirmed that a slew of spells was likely to come, because that was Sebastian’s signature move – blast his enemy backward before unleashing a storm of offensive spells on them.

“Leander, look out!” you managed, but it was too late.

Sebastian levitated Leander and hit him with a Confringo and Bombarda spell combination powerful enough to rattle the entire room. Leander was blasted backward, the force sending him crashing into a pile of crates while Sebastian watched his handiwork with smug satisfaction.

“Sebastian!” you scolded. “You could have seriously hurt him!”

“And?”

You huffed in annoyance as you ran to check on Leander, dropping your wand in the process. That was your final mistake. 

As you bent down to see if Leander had any visible injuries, you were suddenly levitated off your feet.

“Sebastian Oliver Sallow, you put me down!” you demanded, your legs kicking wildly in the air. 

“Or what?” Sebastian challenged, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Fight’s over, you won!”

Sebastian flicked his wand and you floated toward him swiftly, still flailing in aggravation at his antics. He held steady, hovering you above him, higher and higher until your feet dangled well above his head. He smirked and you could feel him peering up your skirt.

“You fucking troll,” you hissed.

Sebastian laughed.

Meanwhile, the crowd had been tending to Leander, who at least managed to sit upright. A group of students helped him to his feet to support him to the hospital wing, but Sebastian paid no mind.

“All right, that’s enough for today,” you heard Lucan declare. “See you all next week.”

Students began to file out of the clock tower for dinner, but a few of your curious friends held back, lingering to see the outcome of your lovers’ quarrel.

“Sebastian, put her down,” Poppy laughed, though you noticed the edge in her tone. “Duel’s over.”

Natty also sensed there was more to it. “Are you alright?” she asked. You weren’t entirely sure if she was addressing you or Sebastian but you didn’t want her to worry.

“We’re fine,” you sighed, still lingering in the air. You rolled your eyes to emphasize your point, that you and your boyfriend were just having fun. Your friends didn’t need to know that you had likely just saved Leander from devastating injury. They did know that you and Sebastian were prone to silly little spats like this, and though they didn’t quite understand your relationship, they knew you always seemed to handle it well.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a word alone with my dearly beloved,” Sebastian said, smirking at you. 

“You two are something else,” Natty sighed while Poppy giggled. “See you at dinner.”

You waved goodbye and watched them leave the clock tower, your feet swaying gently as you remained suspended mid-air. Once they were out of earshot, you glowered at Sebastian.

“OK, you proved your point,” you sneered. “Now put me down.”

Sebastian merely chuckled. He twirled his wand for emphasis, causing you to also twirl, which made him laugh more.

He was enjoying this far too much and you were struggling with the fact you had little control over the situation.

“Not until it’s very clear to me that you understand what you’ve done wrong.” He flicked his wand again, sending you darting across the room with a swish. “And that you understand there are consequences to your actions.”

“It was just a harmless duel, Sebastian. You weren’t here and Leander asked to be my partner. You know it didn’t mean anything. And you made your point clear to everyone else.”

“Maybe it didn’t mean anything to you,” Sebastian noted. “But I bet Prewett loved it. He’s carried a torch for you since fifth year.”

“So? Even if he has, it’s a moot point.” 

“ I know that ,” Sebastian said, waving his wand for emphasis. The movements caused you to dip sharply before you were jerked upward again, dangling about six feet off the ground. “But he needed to know.”

“So then why are you punishing me?”

Sebastian grinned. “Because I can.” You heaved a defeated sigh and Sebastian approached you, his eyes fixated on yours. “Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I promise.”

“And promise me you won’t partner with anyone else again.”

“I promise.”

Sebastian flicked his wand and you gasped as you were tipped upside down, your hair spilling downward and the hem of your skirt slipping from your knees, past your chest.

“Sebastian!” you squawked as you grabbed for your skirt hem, trying to cover yourself.

“Relax, love,” Sebastian said, his voice silky as he circled beneath you. You felt like bait, dangled inches above a hungry shark. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I know that,” you huffed. “But anyone else could come walking through.”

He flicked his wand and you levitated lower, still upside-down, until he could reach you, his face inches from yours. He smelled warm and earthy, like sandalwood and spices. 

“You’re awfully attractive when you’re vulnerable,” he teased in your ear. He reached upward, his fingers gently touching the top button of your blouse. You held your breath as he popped open the first button, then the second, exposing your chest. The air inside the clock tower felt cool against your skin, but you felt distressingly hot.

Sebastian was quick to notice that you hadn’t bothered to squirm or swat his hands away. He knew you too well. You liked when he was possessive over you.

Let's get this straight. You are a fever in the cold, yet I'm not shivering.  You are a shudder in the voice that screams inside of me.

“But you do need to be taught a lesson,” Sebastian continued. He leaned forward to plant a kiss on your upside-down lips before his mouth found your neck.

You inhaled sharply as the blood continued to rush to your head. Sebastian gently nuzzled against your collarbone until you could feel him smirking against your skin.

“You feel hot,” he murmured against you.

“Probably because you damn near set Leander on fire,” you retorted. You could still hear one of the wood crates crackling in the corner.

“He deserved it,” Sebastian mumbled before his lips found yours again. When he pulled away, you could feel his eyes slink upward to your chest. He pressed a trail of kisses from the corner of your lips, up your neck and between your breasts.

Your breath hitched and you wondered if you were going to pass out. Sebastian already knew how to rob you of all sensibilities, but the blood in your brain induced a haze that clouded all of your inhibitions. 

You are my last, you are my first. You kill me for the better. You are the rising tide. You're every fucking thing inside me now.

You could feel him smirking against your chest until he pulled away, stepping back to set you upright with a swish of his wand.

“Put me down,” you said firmly, hoping you sounded more authoritative than you felt. In truth, you felt completely submissive. 

“Fine,” Sebastian sighed. He could be cruel, but he’d never force you to expose yourself to half of Hogwarts. That was all meant for him and only him anyway. That was the entire point of all this.

Sebastian held his wand out, steadily lowering you until you were a foot from the ground. As soon as you assumed you were about to reunite with the stone floor, he caught your gaze and grinned.

Another quick flick of his wand sent you swooshing toward a pile of untouched crates stacked away in the corner. You squealed in surprise until you were gently lowered slowly to a seated position on top of one. Sebastian tread casually toward you, one hand still clutching his wand as the clack of his footsteps echoed throughout the clock tower. 

“Bastard,” you sneered as he reached you.

“Now, now, love,” he cooed as he stepped closer, using a knee to nudge his way between your legs. “Don’t be mad. You’re the one who betrayed me, after all.”

“I’d hardly consider that a betrayal,” you chided. “Prewett’s about as useful as a Flobberworm. I would’ve been better off dueling on my own.”

“Glad you learned your lesson,” Sebastian mumbled as his arms snaked their way around your waist. “Now you get to make it up to me.”

“If I make it up to you, will you apologize to Prewett?”

”Absolutely not.”

”Sebastian…”

Sebastian sighed as he drew back to meet your gaze. “Why should I apologize?” he demanded. “He was the one moving in on my girlfriend.”

”Oh, please. Even if he was, it wouldn’t matter and you know that.”

”But it’s the principal,” Sebastian drawled. “He should know better. Everyone knows you’re mine.”

You are the violence in my veins. You are the war inside my brain. You are my glitter and my gloom. I am so numb without you.

Perhaps Sebastian was a bit possessive when it came to you. Attention from others made his blood boil and he was always quick to challenge them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you — you’d proven your loyalty to him long ago, but his fear of losing you often made him irrational. He’d already lost so many people close to him, you couldn’t help but give him some grace when he tried to cling too tightly to you.

”So maybe Prewett was just trying to test his luck. Or maybe he’s lost what few brain cells he had,” you said. “The point is, you’ve nothing to worry about. I’m sitting here with you, not him.”

”Too right you are,” Sebastian smirked. He inched closer and leaned in to kiss you in that slow way that made your stomach somersault. But as he kissed you, you quickly pulled away as you noticed the feeling of something trickling over your hand.

“Sebastian!” you gasped as you realized your hand was covered in blood. “You’re still bleeding.”

Sebastian sighed, clearly annoyed that your concern for his injury was outweighing your desire. “I’m fine,” he huffed. 

“You’re hurt,” you said sternly, eyeing his side. Blood had started to seep through his white shirt, which was ripped from Leander’s Diffindo spell.

“I’m fine,” Sebastian repeated. “And I refuse to allow the results of Prewett’s ignorance to distract my girlfriend any longer.”

“At least drink a Wiggenweld,” you ordered. 

“Fine,” Sebastian sighed. He turned on his heel and you watched as he crossed the clock tower to the storage chest equipped with various potions and first aid items. You leaned back on your hands, your feet dangling from the edge of the crate as you could hear Sebastian rummaging through the chest. “Ah, one Wiggenweld,” you heard him say before he paused to down the potion. A tiny clink suggested he tossed the vial aside before returning to you.

As he crossed the room again, you swallowed as he unbuttoned his shirt while he walked, slowly peeling it away until it fell to the floor in a heap. He smirked as you shifted atop the crate, the flickering lights dancing over his body to cast shadows on the stone walls.

“Now, where were we?” Sebastian said smoothly. He returned to his standing position between your legs, placing one hand on either side of you as he leaned forward.

Your eyes fell to the slash beneath his ribcage and you frowned. “At least let me do a quick healing spell,” you begged.

“I’m fine,” Sebastian insisted. But as you reached your fingers toward his wound, he inhaled sharply and you shot him a stern look.

“I’m not letting you touch me until it’s healed,” you said.

Sebastian groaned in annoyance. “Fine,” he huffed as he straightened up, turning his body so that the gash faced you. “Have at it, love.”

“Thank you. My wand, please?”

“Oh yes, that,” Sebastian said, offering you a smirk. “Forgot I still had that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Sebastian chuckled at your remark and brandished your wand from his back pocket. “Here you are, princess.”

You glowered at him and pointed your wand at his wound. “Vulnera Sanentur,” you murmured. The gash immediately stopped bleeding and the skin seemed to fuse back together, leaving a red scar that looked tender and raw. “That’s better. Not fully healed, but better.”

“Good,” Sebastian said, plucking your wand from your hand and tossing it to the side. It clattered on the stone and rolled until you could no longer see or hear it. “Now, where were we?”

“Sebastian, we really should be getting to dinner,” you said weakly. Sebastian grinned. He was clearly amused by how pitiful and unconvincing you sounded.

“I’m not hungry,” he said. “At least not for dinner.”

Maybe it was his tousled hair. Maybe it was the signature smirk that never seemed to leave his lips. Maybe it was the way he had fought for you in such an unflinching manner. Or maybe, most certainly, it was the way the low light caught his toned arms and torso, his new scar a symbol of the lengths he was willing to go for you.

Whatever it was, it commanded control over you and you had no desire to fight it. You never did. 

I won't leave, no, I won't surrender. I'll wait 'til the end of, the end of time. You are my glitter and my gloom. I am so numb without you.

Instead, you let Sebastian lean down to kiss you, his hands grabbing your face. It wasn’t long before he fully closed the gap between you, standing pressed against your body while his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

Your hands roamed from his sides, over that new scar, up his chest until they snaked around his neck. Your legs mimicked your arms as they wrapped Sebastian’s frame.

“I do have to admit,” Sebastian murmured against your neck. “You do look pretty fucking gorgeous when you’re dueling.”

“You’ve just now figured that out?” you retorted. You could feel Sebastian smile into your skin.

“Of course not. You always look bloody gorgeous. It’s just particularly alluring when you happen to be surrounded by fire.”

“Noted,” you murmured. “Though that doesn’t mean you can cast Confringo every time you’re aroused.”

“You’re no fun.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh before Sebastian’s hands found their way beneath the hem of your skirt. You felt the pads of his fingers gently skimming the tops of your thighs until they found your hips.

The longer he kissed you, the more the bulge in his pants prodded your inner thigh in earnest. The feeling of Sebastian’s desire for you fueled your own, igniting the familiar beckoning between your legs that made you shift closer to the edge of the crate. 

Sensing your urgency, Sebastian pulled away just enough to smirk at you. “Now now,” he mused. “If I had to endure the absolute torture that was watching you duel with Prewett, you should have to exercise a little patience yourself.”

You should’ve known you weren’t getting off the hook that easily. It was never that easy with Sebastian.

His eyes fell to your chest, where the top two buttons remained open. He reached for the third, then the fourth and downward, his fingers lingering as they took their time with each one.

With your shirt hanging open, Sebastian reached for your hair with one hand, balling it within his fist as he kissed you hard. The other hand snaked its way over your breasts to your left shoulder, tugging your shirt sleeve off. He released your hair to remove your other sleeve, leaving you bare above the waist.

Sebastian took a moment to admire you – he always did. He had a way of ensuring you felt like you were the only other person on Earth, like your physique alone kept his veins open and his heart pumping.

Once his eyes were done drinking in your body, he reached for one of your breasts, his palm cupping you while his fingers gently squeezed. His thumb traced circles over your nipple until his mouth replaced his hand.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his tongue flicker across your skin. You wanted his tongue everywhere but if you asked for it, he’d surely continue to tease you with it.

Instead, you felt one of his hands creep back under your skirt, resting atop your thigh again. He gave your leg a gentle squeeze and you shifted, parting your legs to invite him in. His fingers hooked around the waist of your panties, so you lifted your hips to help him remove them. 

His fingers traced gentle lines over your entrance and you bucked your hips, your silent way of begging for more. Your body was aching to feel any part of him inside of you, but he merely flashed you a smirk and left his fingers trailing outside of your folds.

A whimper escaped your lips as he kissed you again and you just knew he was thriving off of your impatience. He kissed you in ways that left you at a loss for thought, void of all composure as his fingers drew enticing circles around your cunt.

“Sebastian, please,” you whined, rocking forward in desperation to relieve the scorching tension swelling in your core. He barked a laugh.

“It’s sexy when you beg like that,” he chuckled. He dipped his head to kiss your neck, nipping gently at the skin before his lips pressed a trail of kisses between your breasts and across your stomach. Bent over your body, Sebastian lowered himself to place a kiss atop your knee until he started a new trail beneath your skirt, creeping closer to your core until…

He straightened up again, standing tall as he flashed a sinister grin that nearly made you scream in frustration.

You hated the waiting game. Especially when it was getting dark and dinner would be over soon. Especially as the space between your thighs had become so sensitive, so wet, you nearly moaned at the slightest shift in weight. Especially when you knew how fucking good it would feel when you finally engulfed every inch of Sebastian’s length.

But perhaps there was a way to speed things up. You were a smart girl and Sebastian was merely an 18-year-old man. Surely you could find a quicker way to achieve your goal of convincing the bastard to hurry up and fuck you until you gasped his name and saw constellations undetected by any telescope.

So before Sebastian could tease you with that stupid fucking tongue any further, you reached for his belt, unbuckling it with expert rigor. 

“Awfully eager, aren’t we?” he teased. But instead of indulging his cruel banter, you indulged yourself by tugging his trousers down, reaching for the one thing you knew would gain back your control.

Sebastian hissed the moment he felt your fingers wrap around him. And though he loomed over you, gazing down at you with heavy eyes, you had regained control. 

You wrapped your lips around him and he groaned, his head tilting backward and his eyes falling shut as he focused on the sensation. This time it was your turn to tease with your tongue and Sebastian silently praised you for it.

You typically took your time when it came to this task. You enjoyed the empowering feeling of reducing Sebastian to whimpers and moans. But the prolonged build-up – the tension from the duel, the jealousy Sebastian couldn't quell, the way he kissed you like he relied on your breath for his own oxygen, had you wound so tight you were certain your insides had contorted into knots.

So you quickened your pace for a bit before allowing your tongue to flicker across Sebastian’s tip as his fist grasped your hair into a tangled mess.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled toward the ceiling.

His tip hit the back of your throat and your head bobbed as you took him in. The way he groaned, the way his nails dug into your scalp, you knew he’d returned to his rightful place – wrapped around your finger, even if you were presently wrapped around him.

You also knew he would never leave you hanging. He wouldn’t finish until you did, which meant you just had to tantalize him a little more, until his patience crumbled. A few more flicks of your tongue should do it…

With a sharp tug of your hair, Sebastian pulled himself from your mouth, his teasing ways now forgotten.

“Come here,” he growled.

You straightened to sit upright and before you could say a word, Sebastian grabbed your legs and yanked you to the edge of the crate. The hem of your skirt was shoved upward and Sebastian was prying your legs apart in haste.

You ran your tongue across your bottom lip as you realized you’d earned what you wanted. Finally . 

As Sebastian guided himself into you, you realized you’d been holding your breath. It escaped your lips in the form of a soft moan while Sebastian mumbled a curse at the sensation of your heat enclosing around him.

“You’re so wet,” he growled as you stretched around his length.

“Your fault for punishing me,” you murmured.

“And I’d do it again.”

Your banter subsided as the quiet corner soon echoed with the sounds of heavy breathing and skin whipping against skin. Sebastian’s rhythm was quick, yet steady while you silently thanked the gods, the fates, and every other spiritual being for causing you to cross paths with Sebastian Sallow.

Though you’d had Sebastian dozens of times before, there were no words to describe how fucking blissful it always felt.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage.

Your arms were draped around Sebastian, your fingers pressing sharply into his shoulder blades as he pumped into you with more force. Your nails gripped at his flesh and he clenched his jaw at the sting.

“Harder,” you breathed and Sebastian obliged. His hands gripped your hips harder as he worked. No more punishments. No more games. Now he merely wanted you to come undone for him.

And then you did. Your breath hitched in your throat and you managed to sputter Sebastian’s name just as your orgasm began. It pulsed through you and you cried out as your walls clenched around him, compelling him to fuck you harder, to ensure you were good and finished.

When your high subsided, Sebastian paused to kiss you forcefully, reminding you he was the one responsible for it. Your thighs glistened in the low light and Sebastian’s gaze drifted to the spot where the two of you were connected as he steadied his pace again.

He reached up to tug your hair, your head snapping backward so that you’d look him in the eyes. He pulled just hard enough so that your eyes began to water, and he smiled at you.

”Having fun?” he cooed.

”Yes,” you panted. 

“You’re lucky I was in a forgiving mood today.”

So lucky. You’d survived a goblin rebellion, vengeful poachers and bloodthirsty creatures. You’d been born with a rare gift, a powerful magic that most couldn’t even begin to fathom. But your luckiest moment in life was the day it led you to Sebastian Sallow.

Sebastian reached down to press his fingertips against your clit and your gasp echoed throughout the clock tower. Anyone passing by would surely catch on to the debauchery happening inside, but you trusted that Sebastian would hex anyone who threatened to ruin the occasion.

His fingers dragged their way across you, beckoning you to lose yourself for him again. The crate beneath you creaked as you rocked your hips to increase the friction wrapped around Sebastian’s cock, desperate to ride one more wave of ecstasy. As it started, you squeezed yourself around Sebastian, eliciting a sharp grunt from him.

The sound that left your lips was damn near guttural but you were too euphoric to care. Sebastian’s cock pounded that soft spot of flesh that made your thighs shake and your cunt flood around him.

It was too much for Sebastian’s restraint and soon he was also spilling himself, filling more than your body could take. As his own orgasm subsided, the sounds of your panting quickly replaced the sounds of your sins.

Sebastian rested his head on your shoulder as you caught your breaths and the room returned to sharp focus. Though you were hot, your hair plastered to your forehead, you suddenly became very aware that the air inside the clocktower was chilly. You gasped as a sudden shiver coursed through you and Sebastian lifted his head with a frown.

“Let’s get you dressed,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to your temple. He backed away to help you gather your wand and the articles of clothing you’d shed before getting dressed himself.

When you were both decent, he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a quiet kiss.

“All right?” he asked.

“All right,” you answered with a smile. Your body felt tired, yet relaxed, and your head no longer felt full of the day’s stress.

“Learn your lesson?”

“No.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk at your response. “Sure you don’t want to rethink that?”

“If by ‘lesson,’ you mean dueling with anyone but you, yes. But even the brightest witches sometimes forget everything they’ve learned,” you teased.

“Then the brightest witches will continue to be punished in the most cruel and unusual ways,” Sebastian hummed in your ear as he tossed an arm around you to steer you toward the archway.

“We missed dinner,” you whined as you returned to the castle.

Sebastian sighed. “We can sneak down into the kitchens and grab something. I’m sure they’ll have those biscuits you love.”

“I’d kill for a shepherd’s pie right now,” you mumbled longingly.

Sebastian squeezed your shoulder gently. “I’ll treat you to one at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow, I promise,” he said.

You smirked to yourself as you reached the castle doors and pushed your way inside. “You know, Leander offered to take me there tonight, after our duel. Beginning to think I should’ve taken him up on it.”

“He what?”

[jointherebellion215]

If It's True

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When an unexpected guest crashes your House's welcome feast for the Harkonnens, your life unknowingly becomes the start of a sad, sad song.

Word Count: 872

TW: Manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha (so Regular Feyd-Rautha), she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, songfic

A/N: Hi, it's your friendly neighborhood shitposter. I'm taking a huge leap of faith with this fic, because I truly haven't written anything in YEARS. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for days, thus "the trilogy was born". This is meant to be Part One of a three part series, based on different songs from the musical Hadestown. I've obviously written this with very very dark interpretations of the songs and the themes. If enough people like it, I'll post parts two and three. Please let me know if it's any good, I'd love some feedback :)

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories other than what I derive inspiration from are strictly coincidence.

What’s the use of his backbone

If he never stands upright?

“We welcome you to Kolhar, my lords Baron and na-Baron. Our House humbly offers our services and facilities to your use. I toast to our continued cooperation and to the strength of our Houses.”

As your father raised his cup, others of our House followed suit. The official welcome feast was well underway, though House Harkonnen had been planetside for at least a week already. The past few days had been for inspecting our mines and factories, ensuring that our production of their ships and swords were up to standard. 

Now? Pure pageantry. You found it a bit redundant, but it was necessary to ensure your good standing among the Houses of the Imperium. It was a grand occasion, in which the leaders of your father’s council were present, as well as the highest ranked mine workers. 

The doors to the large hall slam open, a familiar figure storming in. Your heart flutters at the sight of your beloved parting the crowds before him. The man who you had met by complete coincidence, one of the workers in a local steel mine, who you had spent the better part of a year meeting in secret—had crashed the court. You noticed a bruise growing on his cheek and blood trickling down his temple, indicating that his journey to enter through the doors was easier said than done. His voice soon bellowed throughout the hall. 

“My Lord Duke, I refuse to let your daughter’s hand be taken by the na-Baron. She cannot marry him.” 

The crowd gasps, as do you. You had spent the past week showing the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha around the grounds, the training of your most fierce warriors, and the best of your planet’s culture. You had shared a laugh or two and shown your prowess as a leader. Yes, you’d spent quite a bit of time with him, but marriage? This was news to you. 

You turn to your father, who gives you an apologetic grimace. Several Harkonnen guards step forward to seize the love of your life. You quickly stand to protest, but the na-Baron stops the guards in their track with a single snap of his fingers. He offers a hand to calm the crowd, an eerie stillness in his form.

“It is true, I have offered my hand to the Lady.”

I believe that with each other, 

we are stronger than we know.

“There must be a way around this. Even if this is in defiance of the court, they can’t punish all of us! We work their mines; they couldn’t truly function without us. We are the ones who truly hold the power! I implore you to stand with me, show them our strength!”

Your love stands strong, chin raised in the crowd, voice pleading with his brothers and sisters to stand beside him. He was convinced that this moment could provide a great revelation, that somehow your situation was different. That the consensus of a crowd could make the na-Baron stand down. Surely, your story could convince even the coldest of hearts that love can conquer all. He must have some sentimentality that resonates within him.

That's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. He's always so full of hope. Always willing to see the world as it could be, in spite of the way that it actually is.

But you knew better.

“This is treason.” Someone whispers in the room. Murmurs of assent soon follow, and your heart drops. The crowd around him quickly dissipates, as if the mere act of touching him promises death. 

And the ones who deal the cards

Are the ones who take the tricks

With their hands over their hearts

While we play the game they fix

You start to plead with your father to spare your lover. He doesn’t know any better, he wasn’t raised in the ways of politics or court. It’s purely out of his love and devotion to you, so please—

Feyd-Rautha stands up and the room is immediately devoid of sound. He cranes his neck to look at you.

“You love him?”

You swallow harshly, lifting your chin. “I do.” You went to your lover, making a bold statement in linking your fingers together. Presenting a united front. Hoping that somehow, your kind attitude the past week towards the na-Baron would allow this leniency.

A gleam flashes through his eyes, almost imperceptible. He gives a blackened smile, making show of placing his hand over his heart. Confusion fills you. He slithers down the steps towards the pair of you, boots echoing in the Feasting Hall, each step making your lover’s hand give a slight tremor. Your mind stands strong in its conviction, in the thought that you’ll have to fight for what you want. But a small tendril in the back of your mind gives the slightest hesitation. The smallest indication of hope. Maybe…

Piter leans towards his Baron, whispering concerns in his ears, but is quickly paused by the Baron’s hand. Vladimir gives a slow, menacing grin. He responds to his Mentat in a low voice,

“Don’t bother. You know that my nephew loves to play with his food.”

Is this how the world is?

[bgomtori]

☆ boyfriend - cyj

synopsis - he remembers it too well, he doesn't know how to act properly around you, even after being friends, he keeps thinking about it.

-> yeonjun x reader

-> songfic, strangers to friends to lovers, kissing, slow burn, college au, drunken confessions.

-> warnings! alcohol is involved, you and yeonjun just started college, i don't know much about college but.. please bare with me.. written in yeonjun's perspective!

-> notes! ahhh yeonjun's new ost had me giggling and kicking my feet 😭😭 his vocal range is so fascinating + some parts are inspired by seasons of lovesome!

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ call me back when you're sober

this was stupid, he regretted coming to this orientation programme made for the freshmen students. yeonjun stared into blank space, laughing at some joke one of the seniors cracked.

"aww come on! yeonjun, you barely had any of this soju. it's real good" one of the seniors slurred, grabbing onto the neck of the soju bottle, ready to tip some into the solo cup yeonjun was holding.

"haha, it's fine, i'm not that much of a drinker.." he chuckled nervously, shaking his head. his senior looked at him with a frown before singing happily to a song that was blasting in the speakers. yeonjun sighed, wanting to get out of the cramped k-bbq store and get some fresh air.

his phone suddenly started buzzing, causing him to take it out of his pocket, staring at the string of messages yeji sent.

yeji : come out of the store, i need help.

yeonjun : are you kidnapping me? freak..

yeji : shut the fuck up and come out.

yeonjun turned off his phone, slipping it into his picket before heading out of the store, running his hand through his hair.

"psst, here" at the sound of that, yeonjun almost shrieked.

"what the fuck?? why are you hiding in the alley—" his words were cut short when he noticed someone slouched beside yeji, completely drunk.

"this is yn, from the fine arts course, she was drinking a lot, so i decided to pull her here to prevent something worse from happening." yeji explained.

"then why am i here..?" yeonjun quirked an eyebrow, staring down at the two.

"so like, i gotta head out of here. my partner texted me, telling that we should leave together." she pointed to her phone, showing yeonjun her messages she had with her partner.

"alright. but you owe me one" yeonjun sighed, watching yeji jump up, giving him a thumbs up before leaving the alley. he turned down, looking at you stumble when yeji left, your only pillar of support had left. you turned up, staring at yeonjun through hazy eyes. you got up slowly with the aid of the wall. yeonjun was quick to grab your arm, helping you regain your balance.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ i'm afraid i might've never loved ya

maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was because there was an extremely attractive male standing infront of you, but your felt more bold, you didn't even know the guy. without a single thought, your arms were wrapped around yeonjun's neck, pulling him down to your level. his eyes widened, shocked and flustered, his heart racing. your messy hair and disshelved clothing made you more.. attractive in his eyes.

he was then met with a sudden kiss on his lips. usually he would push the person off, but it was weird, there was something about you that he was interested in. he pulled away quickly, holding onto your waist as he forced your arm over his shoulders, allowing you to put your entire body weight on him. this was stupid.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ when you fill my head full of a thousand thoughts

he didn't expect it. you were coincidentally in the same art history elective as him. since when was there a common class between the dance majors and the fine art majors? he looks around the lecture theatre, the only seat available was the one beside you. he quietly slide into the seat, nodding at you as a greeting. you copied the action.

it seemed like you couldn't recall the events that happened last night, but yeonjun clearly did. while you were focused on scribbling the notes down into your notebook, yeonjun was copying down the notes, with his head empty, only filled with thoughts from the night before.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ so why you looking at me like i'm your boyfriend, boyfriend

the class ended, yeonjun doesn't even know what the teacher talked about during the entire lecture. he glanced at you packing up your study materials. he mentally groaned at the fact that you can't seem to remember anything. he wants to know if you actually didn't know or if you are an expert at hiding your feelings. yeonjun carried his bag over his shoulder.

"yeonjun! can you teach me that one move you did in class?" a guy walked up to yeonjun, practically begging.

"yeah, sure." yeonjun nodded his head, about to head out of the lecture theatre until he came to a halt, "ah, hold on."

he noticed that you were still packing up your bags, shoving a notebook down into your bag. he knocked against the table, making you look up at him, startled.

"choi yeonjun, from the dance course. try to remember next time alright?" yeonjun smiled at you.

"oh, yn ln from fine arts.." you looked up at him, still confused at the current situation. yeonjun gave you a quick nod before walking away with his friends who were staring with shocked eyes. whispers immediately became more evident.

"i've never seen choi yeonjun flirt with anyone before."

"so he does have an interest in girls.."

"this guy has been hiding his power all along."

yeonjun scoffed at the murmuring, walking out of the lecture theatre. no one knew, not even you, only him.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ why you lookin' at me like i'm–

days slowly turned into weeks, you became friends with yeji, something you have been hoping for ever since she chugged your drink down at the freshman orientation party. yet the most unexpected thing happened, choi yeonjun.

ever since he introduced himself to you, you've been seeing him almost everywhere, in the hallways, in the secluded cafe at the college that barely anyone goes to, and even the library. of course he noticed this, he has been purposely sitting beside you, striking a conversation with you every now and then when you're studying.

"yn! you really like this cafe huh?" yeonjun laughed, sliding in the seat beside you.

"yea, no one really comes here so it gives me a better environment to study in." i nod my head, removing a side of my airpods from my ear. he hummed, taking out his own study materials too. the both of you studied in silence, whether it was comfortable or awkward, it was quiet. it was killing yeonjun, the way his heart raced, how he can smell the perfume you were wearing. he is in too deep.

"are you studying art history?" you suddenly asked, disrupting yeonjun's train of thought.

"huh? oh! yes i am. why?" he made himself look like a fool infront of you.

"can you.. help me, i didn't understand the last lecture." you requested sheepishly, shifting closer to him as you pointed to the slides on your laptop.

"oh yeah sure. do you need everything or just a certain section of the lecture?" he asked, scrolling through the slides.

"everything, i'm so sorry." you apologised, feeling embarrassed for requesting something so big.

"don't apologise, that's what friends are for right?" yeonjun smiled, flipping over his notebook to the notes he took down during that lecture.

"friends..? yea, friends." you nod your head, clicking your pen. your heart raced, the same fluttery feeling you felt when he first introduced himself to you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ why you lookin' at me like i'm boyfriend, boyfriend.

it has been a regular occurrence now, visiting the cafe together to study together despite your different courses. yeonjun feels as if he has gotten closer to you, he feels like he understands you better now. he knows your favourite colour, your favourite type of flowers and your favourite food. such basic things to know about another person, yet it meant so much to him.

yeonjun doesn't know if he's delusional, or reading too much into things. the way you looked at him, the way your fingers accidentally brush against his while you're studying, or the way you talk to him. he doesn't know what to feel.

some people (yeji) told him that you're interested in him, absolutely smitten. he doesn't believe it. no way you'd like him, right? that drunken kiss you gave him the first time you saw him, was just on accident.. right? drunk words or actions mean sober thoughts.. right? he's confused.

do you feel the same unusual feelings?? do you feel the way just like he does? or are you just friendly? then why are you looking at him like he's your boyfriend. it's infuriating. everytime you talk to him, it goes in and out of his head instantly, he's not listening to you. your words turn into sweet melodies for him to listen to. he wants you so fucking bad.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ we would be something more than just friends i'll be honest

yeonjun's phone started ringing, he was in the midst of wrapping up with his dance practice. he grabbed his phone looking at the caller id, it was you. in an instant he picked up.

"yn..?" he mumbled, not wanting to distract the rest who were in the same practice room as him. he slowly packed up his stuff, waiting for you to answer.

"can you come?" your words were slurred, you're drinking again.

"where? the bar or your apartment?" yeonjun sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he made his way out of the practice room after waving goodbye to his friends.

"apartment.." you replied, feeling slightly dizzy.

yeonjun sighed, murmuring a quick, 'see you' before ending the call. he practically teleported to your apartment, knocking on the door, waiting for you to answer.

"yn, open up. i bought some food for you." yeonjun knocked again, trying to make his presence known. soon enough, you opened the door. you looked sluggish and reeked of alcohol.

"how much did you drink..? why did you even drink?" yeonjun looked at you, slightly concerned as he walked into your apartment, locking the front door behind him.

"my grades came out.. real bad.. got a B." you explained. yeonjun frowned, knowing that you were an overachiever and you wouldn't settle for anything lesser than an A.

"it's fine, this isn't your final grade, there's always room for improvement." yeonjun comforted, rubbing your back as he guided you back into your room, placing the food in the kitchen on the way. you sat on the edge of your bed, looking at yeonjun placing his stuff down on the ground. he made eye contact with you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ i can't make a life without you

"i remember." you mumbled.

"what?" yeonjun's heart started racing.

"the first time i met you, i kissed you.. i remember it." you paused for a while, before continuing. " 'm sorry for suddenly doing that to you. if you feel uncomfortable, we can stop being friends."

yeonjun's eyes widened as he heard your words, he walked towards you, his hand placed on your head.

"what nonsense are you saying, if i was uncomfortable i wouldn't have introduced myself to you in the first place." yeonjun reassured, looking into your glistening eyes. you kept quiet, still feeling guilty for coming onto him that night.

"stop feeling guilty about yourself yn." yeonjun rubbed your hands.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ be there for you, treat you right.

"i like you"

"huh?"

"i like you yeonjun, i didn't know i liked you until you introduced yourself to me. i've always remembered that night, i just didn't want to tell you.. scared that you'd hate me." you stated, rubbing your teary eyes. yeonjun couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"you're drunk yn, are you sure you like me?" yeonjun blatantly asked, it was the first thought in his mind.

"i am! i'm drunk but i know how i feel for you. i've always felt like this but i'm scared of rejection. that's another reason why i drank and called you, i felt more bold. if not, we would always be dancing around the more than friends less than lovers. i hated that! i was so confused–" you rambled, your tears flowing out of your eyes, your heart was hammering against your chest. you were so scared of rejection. yet, why was he suddenly pulling you close? his lips met yours, his hands placed on the small of your back.

you melted into the kiss, kissing him back. it was so electrifying, yeonjun's ears were red as he pulled away, looking straight into your eyes.

"does.. does that answer your question?" yeonjun mumbled, staring at your face, his eyes darting back to your swollen lips.

"mhm.." you hiccuped, wiping away your tears.

"i've always thought that you actually forgot about that incident, i just decided to play it cool, maybe figure out a way for you to like me back. that's why i found out the cafe you always went to from yeji, purposely going there to bump into you." yeonjun explained, using his thumb to wipe your tears before he continued,

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ i ain't like the other guys

"can i be your boyfriend? i'll treat you right, better than any of your past relationships. i'll always be there for you, i won't make you feel confused anymore, my heart beats only for you yn." yeonjun smiled, his words were genuine and sincere. you nod your head, feeling completely estatic.

"good, now let's get you sobered up, i don't want you to have a headache in the morning." yeonjun chuckled, holding onto your hands as he dragged you into the kitchen to eat the food he left on the counter that was now cold.

"you want me to heat it up for you?" he asked. you shook your head, sitting on the chair, struggling to unwrap the bag. yeonjun immediately noticed and placed the cup of water beside you, he grabbed a chair and unwrapped the plastic bag and removed the lid of the food container.

"thank you.." you mumbled, shoving food into your mouth. yeonjun hummed, watching you slowly eat your food in contentment.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ what you like, know it like i know you.

it has been months since you confessed to yeonjun, he has been treating you as if you're glass, always afraid to hurt you, always there to tend to your needs. god you loved him so much just as much as he loved you. finally you could stare at him ramble about anything without him getting suspicious on whether you liked him or not.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ why you looking at me like i'm your boyfriend, boyfriend.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added :D) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson @woncheecks @boba-beom @naveries @be-argyu @defnotleee @babymochibeargyu

[maeby-cursed]

KISS ME, TRY TO FIX IT…

𓂃 COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN ?

a/n: starting a new series of songfics ! this one is very obviously inspired by sad, beautiful, tragic, so you can see where this might be going. enjoy the results of my brainrot ♡ (also, i’ve never written for gojo before, please have mercy)

✧ synopsis: you’ve been waiting for satoru gojo for ten years, but there’s no trace of the man you fell in love with when you were sixteen years old. it’s time to let go, but he might not want to.

✧ pairings: satoru gojo x fem!reader

✧ wc: 2k

✧ rating: angst. so much of it, angst to drown in. might get suggestive at some points.

✧ cw: mentions of drinking, of the great jjk tragedy of 2006 and its aftermath, implied cheating, gojo may be ooc, toxic relationship ??

An ice-cold wind blows through the window as you wait.

It’s not even December yet but it’s already snowing.

Soft snowflakes the size of stars, far away in their firmament, enter your living room. When they land on the sofa, they dissolve, leaving in their wake thousands of specks of water that look disturbingly like tears.

It doesn't matter. You don't think he's going to notice anyway.

It's been ten long years of waiting. Ten long years of fighting, of fixing what's broken and denying that it's ever been broken.

It's over. Let winter freeze everything in its path.

When Satoru walks in through the door, you hesitate for a moment. A moment of madness when you see his hair, as white as the snowfall that has invaded your home. Just a moment when you see him in his burgundy turtleneck sweater, his tight-fitting coat. One single moment when you recognize the cold in his pink cheeks.

But it's all over when you meet his crystalline eyes. The fault is theirs.

"Is the window broken again?" he asks, dropping his keys on the entryway’s table.

The window has been broken since September.

You nod and he grunts, running a hand over his face.

"I'll call someone tomorrow, although you could have said something," he says. This is your fault. Of course.

You keep your eyes fixed on the snow. From the living room you can see the sidewalk across the street, covered in a blanket of white that sparkles under the street lamps. It's so painfully beautiful it makes you nostalgic.

You and Satoru moved into this house three years ago, when he got his teaching position, and you can't quite get over the fact that it's time to say goodbye.

You've spent three years of solstices here. You've seen the sidewalks covered with dead leaves, with thousands of little flowers that broke the pavement in their wake. But it’s never snowed. 

It’s not fair, not one bit.

Satoru says no more. He goes to your room and undresses; he replaces his street clothes with a black outfit that seems very appropriate for the occasion. Since you’ve known him, he always takes off his glasses when he crosses the hall of your building, but for once, you wish he'd put them back on. 

When he returns, his hair is dripping over his forehead. You hadn't even noticed that he was taking a shower. 

But he hasn't noticed that your bedside table is empty, either; that your slippers are missing, that there's a seeping coldness in the hearth of your house, and it's not coming from the window.

"What's for dinner?" he asks, plopping down on the couch with his cell phone in his hand.

You get up.

9:26 p.m., November 8. This is where it ends.

"I don't know. I'm going out to dinner," you say.

He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Hmm, where are you going? Are you bringing something back or should I order myself a pizza?"

It's painful to watch as nothing seems to touch him. He’s infinite — always infinite.

"I'm going to a work friend's house."

"The one with the lovely curly hair and those pretty hazel eyes?"

Christ.

"No. I'm moving in with Rhea. Dark-eyed, blonde, leggy."

"Hmm, how nice."

A moment passes where he just keeps staring at the screen, and you despair.

"Satoru."

"What's up, baby?"

"I'm moving."

At last – at last – he looks up. In his eyes you see nothing; two blue marbles that have sworn you two to an unjust fate.

"You're moving out? Why?"

Where to begin? Because you have been loving a man destined to save everything and everyone for a decade, because you have been trying to fill a void that is not your size for eight years, because the windows are broken and the bed is cold and Satoru arrives several nights smelling of anisette and the perfume of another, because you don't want to live looking at the Strongest, the possessor of the Six Eyes. Because you thought that in some hidden corner Satoru Gojo was still there, and he isn’t.

"Because it's killing me to live like this.” You settle for that as your explanation and try to keep your stare unwavering.

"Like this how?" he questions, suddenly irritated. "In a luxurious house?" He gestures around him with the cell phone in his hand. "Comfortably, with your dream job? Knowing you'll never have to worry about money?"

"No, Satoru. Like this, without you loving me."

That chills him to the bone.

"Of course I love you."

"Do you? Do you want me for anything other than to warm your bed and your cock? Do you want me here, as your partner? Do you need me for anything at all?"

You don’t gesticulate, you barely move from your spot in the middle of the room. Everything in this fucking place is white and uncannily clean; the sofas, the coffee table, the walls, even the snow; but you and Satoru. He’s in all black, you’re in all red. It’s almost dreamlike, and you struggle to stay grounded. 

The only thing you could remove from this house that would grab his attention would be you.

"Yesterday you weren't complaining about any of this, what the fuck is the matter with you today?"

And you can't stand it anymore. The winter current lifts your hair, soaks the back of your neck and disguises your tears.

"THE MATTER IS THAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR TEN YEARS. WAITING FOR YOU. WAITING FOR THE MAN I MET AT SIXTEEN TO COME BACK, SLEEPING WITH A MAN OF ABSENT GAZE WHO STAGGERS INTO MY BED WHEN HE'S TIRED OF BEING IN EVERYONE ELSE'S. I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR DOG, SATORU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME HOME AND FEEL OBLIGATED TO GIVE ME A WALK, A PETTING."

The words come spilling out of you without remedy, every wound bursting open through the stitches. He just looks at you.

"You think I don't love you?"

It hurts to hear him say it, it fucking hurts. You were prepared for the yelling and the coldness, even for a quick vulnerable stare. But never for his trembling voice and soft frown.

You inhale deeply.

"I don't think your love is of any use to me any longer."

Satoru stands up at that.

He's tall, tall and beautiful like Michelangelo's David. All your life, you've been feeling like you had no right to touch him. His infinity assured you that was the case. 

He takes a step in your direction and whispers:

"Then what should I do now?"

Your eyes, fixed on the ground, rise to meet his. There's something in the void and you're not sure if it's just your reflection.

"What?" you mutter. 

"How do I fix it? What do you need that I can't give you? Do you want me to quit work, for us to leave, for me to come home and kiss your temple, to cook for you, to listen to you, to cherish you in bed?” A heartbeat. “I will."

There’s something about the desperation in his tone, you aren’t sure of what to say next.

Satoru knows how to lie, but you don't know how to tell the difference.

"I don't want anything, Satoru. I'm tired," you whisper back, eyes full of water. "I want it to end. I want you to let it end."

He shakes his head, frowning, and through the mist of your tears you recognize that he is crying too.

"There has to be something. Anything. Something I can do, I can do it all."

It's partly true. He's Satoru Gojo; all-powerful, all-knowing. Eternal and young and beautiful and tragic as a poem.

You are just another person. You cried when Suguru left, when Haibara died, when Kento gave up the Jujutsu world and when Ieri locked herself in her office. You clung to Satoru, who resembled an empty seashell more than a person. 

You remember those nights back in 2007. You remember blindfolding him so he wouldn't activate infinity by accident, by reflex, out of overstimulation. You remember cutting his hair when he couldn’t and looking for him in his old antics. You remember taking care of Megumi – always reluctant – and Tsumiki – who you felt was too mature for her age. You remember the burden of being eighteen and having lost a world.

And, above all else, you remember Satoru under the rain. Under the pressure of the world you had lost, the one that he was trying to put back together. There was a month where he seemed catatonic; no smiles, drinking anisette as if it were his one source of life. A thirty-day period followed by the rebirth of a person who looked like the one that stood before, but who seemed cold and alien to you.

"Don't you love me, my darling?" he seeks for you, reaching out a hand to brush against your cheek.

Of course you love him. You love him even like this, like you have loved each and every one of his versions.

"I adore you, Satoru. But I can't stay; you can't fix it."

"Of course I can," he reaches out to you, holding your face between his fingers, "Of course I can."

His lips connect with yours — one last attempt, you don't know by whom.

Snow fills the room and it's cold, but you drink from his mouth, from his everlasting warmth; everything in him lasts forever.

Between kisses, you show him everything you have been for years. Ten years of kisses, of hands looking for hands and flesh searching for flesh.

He moves backwards, keeping you between his hands and guiding you towards the hallway and from the hallway to your shared bed.

This is where it ends.

"Satoru..." you whisper.

"I'm here. I'm here, beautiful, my favorite girl. Talk to me."

A sob escapes you as he utters those words. My favorite girl. That’s what he used to call you. Talk to me, he used to plead, that year at sixteen, when everything was about to start.

Isn't it beautiful that it ends the exact same way?

"Satoru, I'm leaving," you press a farewell kiss to his jaw.

"No, you're not leaving," he murmurs, smiling against your mouth, searching for your lips.

You back away and look at him one more time. And you smile, because there's nothing left.

"I'm already gone. Just let go of me, please."

"But..." he starts, his smile hesitant, "But I'm going to fix it."

You take one of his hands between yours and kiss it as it presses against your cheek, before lowering it to your lap.

"Satoru..." You pronounce each syllable of his name carefully and he stifles a cry. "I'm not going to go any further. I've already made the move and Rhea's expecting me at her house in an hour. I love you, I’ll love you until I run out of kisses, but it does me no good to love you. It is of no use to me, this love. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you one last time. Wasn’t it my turn to be the selfish one for once?"

He watches you, and his mouth shuts close. You've never seen Satoru lose. 

No, that's not true. There was a time, one time, where you saw him lose everything.

His eyes fill up with you one second and empty the next.

This is his second time.

He lifts his chin with an arrogance that no longer means anything and lets go of your hands.

"Go then, if you want. I'm not going to do anything to stop you,” he drags the words with feign disinterest. “I can't do anything."

That's the last gift he can give you. An honesty unbecoming of him, a truth that will never belong to Satoru Gojo ever again. 

From god to human in three kisses and a goodbye.

"Thank you," you say to him. Then you get up, heading for the living room, where your coat and your escape door await you.

He stays in the bedroom – with himself as he always is – after you leave. 

And he hides you where he always hides the things he breaks, in the back of his eyes, where no one can reach to see anything.

© 2023, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)