#i have a task from work to finish and i stopped everything i was doing just bc this thought hit me

[wannabehockeygf]

Good Graces | Conor Garland

"With your favorite athlete, Shoot his shot every night, Want you every second, Don't need other guys."

request: "I was thinking of a fluffy fic between him and a fem!team medic who he is good friends with because of how often he ends up getting hurt, putting himself in the middle of scrums and everything. I know that's kind of just a general premise, but I wanted to leave it up to you where you want to take it from there :)" summary: two times conor wanted to kiss you, and one time you kissed him.

word count: 5.3k

pairing: conor garland x fem!reader

warnings: blood & injury

notes:

hiiii welcome & thanks for requesting. hope I fulfilled your wishes!

i don't know much about garland but I love making players divas so I inserted that here lmao :3

keep requesting new & different players guys!! i love doing it.

You signed your contract for your job with one goal in mind–don’t fall for a hockey player.

Pretty easy, right? Especially since, as a team medic, you largely dealt with them all sweaty, bloody, and generally in a state of chaos. Not attractive at all. Definitely not. Yet here you are, hovering over him again.

Conor Garland, number 8 on the ice and, in your opinion, number one in "most likely to get into a fight over nothing." You fold your arms as he limps into the med room, wearing a ridiculous grin despite the cut above his eyebrow. “That bad, huh?” he teases, his voice holding that familiar playful edge. He’s pretending to wince as he climbs onto the exam table, like it’s a whole ordeal for him.

You roll your eyes, but you’re already reaching for the gauze, your hands moving on autopilot. “You know, if you stopped fighting for five seconds, you might actually get through a game without needing stitches.”

He chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with something else. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a little too relaxed, too content, considering he just came off the ice. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You look up at him, raising an eyebrow, but the sight of him smiling, like he’s enjoying himself a little too much for someone who’s supposed to be injured, throws you off. He’s been doing this a lot lately, showing up with bruises and cuts that could’ve been avoided. You’d never say it out loud, but part of you suspects he’s getting into these scrums on purpose.

His eyes flicker to yours, just for a moment, before he quickly looks away, feigning a deep interest in the ceiling. “What?” you ask, crossing your arms again.

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.

Right. Sure.

You press the gauze to his eyebrow a little harder than necessary, and he winces, though you can’t tell if it’s real pain or exaggerated for your benefit. You narrow your eyes. “Stop squirming.”

He gives a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips. There’s always this easy back-and-forth with him, like the two of you have fallen into some unspoken routine. You patch him up, and he finds new ways to annoy you, all with that same boyish grin on his face.

You finish dabbing at the cut, the soft pressure of the gauze soaking up the blood that’s already drying around the edges. As you work, the steady rhythm of your movements almost feels too comfortable, like this is the hundredth time you’ve patched him up—because, well, it probably is.

"Conor," you murmur, half to yourself, half in warning, as you reach for the antiseptic. His skin smells of sweat and ice, a mix that’s become weirdly familiar, like the scent of the rink itself but so uniquely him.

He tilts his head a little, trying to catch your eye, but you focus on the task at hand, avoiding the gaze you know is waiting for you. Your fingers brush against his temple, and for a split second, you swear you feel him tense up under your touch. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual casual grin.

“You gotta stop doing this,” you sigh, and it comes out softer than you intend. The antiseptic stings as you swipe it across the cut, and he flinches again, though not as much as he should.

“Doing what?” he asks, his voice low, almost playful. He’s watching you again, those brown eyes darkened by the fluorescent lights of the med room.

“This.” You gesture vaguely at his face, at the various bruises and cuts that seem to accumulate each time he steps onto the ice. “Getting into pointless fights. You think I don’t notice? You’re not even supposed to be a fighter, Conor. Half the time, you’re chirping at guys twice your size. Why?”

The silence between you stretches just long enough to make you uneasy. You feel the weight of his stare, the slight twitch of his mouth like he’s holding back from saying something.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something else behind the movement, something unspoken. “Part of the game, right?” he offers, too nonchalant, like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t buy it, not for a second. But what are you supposed to say? Call him out directly? Admit you’ve noticed the way he lingers around the med room a little longer than necessary, how his smile stretches wider every time he manages to make you roll your eyes? It feels too much, too real, to acknowledge the way your heart stutters just a little when you hear his name over the PA system.

You sigh again, grabbing the butterfly stitches and nudging his chin up with more force than necessary. His skin is warm, too warm for someone who just came off the ice, and you have to focus hard not to notice the way his jaw clenches under your fingers.

“You’re gonna end up with a permanent scar if you keep this up,” you say, and there’s a softness in your voice now, one you can’t quite hide. The words come out before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and the quiet stretches on again, filled only by the sound of your breath and the subtle scratch of fabric as he shifts on the exam table. Then, his voice cuts through the stillness, quiet but sure.

“I don’t mind it,” he says, and it takes you a second to register what he’s talking about.

You blink, pulling back slightly to look at him. He’s still smiling, but there’s something different in his expression now, something that catches you off guard. “What?”

“The scars,” he says, shrugging again, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t mind them. Means I get to see you.”

Your heart does a ridiculous little flip at his words, and you curse it for betraying you so easily. You try to play it off with an eye roll, but you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “You could just... I don’t know, say hi like a normal person instead of getting into fights?”

He chuckles, but the sound is softer now, almost fond. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You press the final stitch into place, leaning back to assess your work. His face is still bruised, still battered, but somehow, he looks completely unbothered by it all. And the worst part? You can’t help but think he looks good like this, even with the mess of bruises and dried blood.

As you’re cleaning up, you feel his eyes on you again, watching with that same stupid grin, like this is all just some kind of game to him. But there’s something else in the way he’s sitting, the way he’s still lingering on the table long after you’ve finished patching him up.

“Are you just going to sit there?” you ask, pretending to be annoyed, though you know the act isn’t fooling anyone.

“Maybe.” He leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, looking far too comfortable for someone who was limping in here five minutes ago. “Depends. You gonna kick me out?”

You roll your eyes, but your chest tightens at the implication, your heart doing that traitorous little skip again. You turn around, crossing your arms, meeting his eyes this time. He’s sitting there, propped up on his elbows, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. And maybe that’s what’s been throwing you off lately—the way he looks at you. Like these moments mean something more to him than just routine check-ups and bandages.

“Conor,” you say, and this time, your voice has more weight to it, though you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re really thinking. Instead, you gesture toward the door, trying to salvage the situation with a teasing edge. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, still not moving. “Besides, where else would I go? The ice isn’t as fun as this.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, though it’s a losing battle. He’s always had this way of disarming you with a few words, like he knows exactly how to find that crack in your armor.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” you say, but there’s no real bite to your words, and you both know it.

He swings his legs off the table, wincing slightly—more from habit than pain, you suspect—and stands up, but he doesn’t head for the door. Instead, he lingers, too close now, and you find yourself staring at the small cut above his eyebrow, the one you just stitched up. Your fingers itch to brush it gently, to make sure you did it right, but you keep your hands firmly crossed in front of you.

“I think I’m fine now,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Thanks, doc.”

The nickname always makes you smile, even when you don’t want it to. “You’re welcome,” you reply, but there’s a softness to your tone that wasn’t there a moment ago.

He takes a step closer, and the room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. For a second, neither of you says anything. His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to read something in your expression, something you’re not even sure you understand yourself. But whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it—at least, not yet.

“I’ll try not to get into too much trouble next game,” he says with a smirk, though there’s a warmth behind it, something genuine. “But, you know, no promises.”

You shake your head, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course not.”

He starts toward the door but pauses just before stepping out, his hand resting lightly on the frame. He turns back to you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s no teasing in his voice this time, just something real. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

You nod, swallowing the lump that suddenly forms in your throat. “Just… try to keep yourself in one piece, okay?”

He grins again, that easy, boyish grin that somehow makes you forget for a second that he’s a professional athlete, bruised and battered from a game most people would never survive. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’ll be back sooner rather than later.

Another game, another set of bruises.

You’re halfway through patching up another player when you feel it—his presence, the familiar, teasing energy he brings with him. Conor walks into the med room, limping just a little too dramatically to be real. He’s cradling his arm like it’s hanging by a thread, his expression an exaggerated picture of pain.

“Doc, I think this might be the one that does me in,” he says, his voice a mockery of seriousness. The guy you’re helping, one of the newer players, snorts in response, shaking his head as he slides off the table.

You shoot Conor a glance over your shoulder. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Garland.”

The younger player leaves, chuckling under his breath, and suddenly it’s just you and Conor again. You can feel the shift in the air, like it always does when it’s just the two of you. The playful banter, the teasing looks, that undercurrent of something unspoken hanging between you like a thin thread.

You turn around, and there he is, still putting on that ridiculous act. He’s cradling his arm as if it’s broken, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “Oh, I’m sure you’re in agony,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Conor leans against the table with a dramatic sigh, giving you a pained look, as if he’s the one who should be annoyed by all this. “It’s bad, doc. Might need surgery.”

“Surgery, huh?” you quip, folding your arms as you walk over to him. Your eyes roam over his jersey, scanning for any real signs of injury, but all you see is his usual scruffy, disheveled mid-game self. “I can’t really check if you’ve got something serious going on with all that gear.”

He raises an eyebrow, still in character. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone casual, but there’s a hint of something else in your voice now. You tap his arm gently, feigning impatience. “Take off your jersey if you’re so hurt.”

For a split second, the playful energy between you shifts. His teasing smirk falters, his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, and suddenly, Conor’s posture straightens. The banter evaporates, leaving only the echo of your words hanging in the air. His hands hover near the hem of his jersey, clearly caught off guard by your request.

He stares at you like you’ve just asked him to do something much more intimate than you intended, and it takes a moment before he recovers his composure. “Uh… right. Yeah. Okay.”

You watch as he hesitates, tugging at the fabric, trying to hide the way his fingers fumble with it. And for once, he’s flustered—really flustered. It’s not the usual Conor Garland confidence or playful bravado. His face is flushed, the pink creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and you can’t help but find the sight... oddly endearing.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this, but you are.

He finally manages to pull the jersey over his head, tossing it aside without meeting your eyes, and you catch the briefest glimpse of the toned muscles under his shoulder and chest pads, the faint sheen of sweat from the game still clinging to his skin. You swallow hard, trying not to let your mind wander too far as you force yourself to stay professional.

You step closer, eyes focused on the faint bruise blooming across his ribs, though it’s clear he’s milking the situation. “This?” you ask, pressing your fingers gently against his side. “You came in here for this?”

You stare at the bruise, your fingers resting lightly against his skin. It’s small, nothing serious—a faint discoloration, more from the impact than anything worth worrying about. But you both know this isn’t about the bruise. It never is with Conor.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he. There’s a moment of quiet, the banter fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this strange, charged silence. You can feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The tension in the room shifts, thickening like a storm cloud.

“You really thought this was worth all that drama?” you murmur, your voice soft now, not teasing, just… there. You trace the edge of the bruise absently, the pads of your fingers barely brushing against his skin.

Conor swallows, and you catch the movement of his throat, the way his eyes flicker down to where your hand rests on him before darting back to your face. His voice is quieter when he responds, less of that exaggerated confidence he usually carries with him. “Well, I figured… might as well get some attention while I’m at it, right?”

You don’t miss the way he says attention, how it lingers between the two of you, a little too close to the truth. Your heart skips, your pulse quickening in a way you hope he doesn’t notice.

But he’s staring at you now, the teasing smile faded, his brown eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, but in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. Like something is about to happen, something you’ve both been tiptoeing around for too long.

Your hand is still on his side, your fingers barely moving, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he’s watching you like he’s waiting for something. Maybe you are too. The room feels impossibly small, the space between you shrinking with each breath.

“I… probably shouldn’t have made you take off your jersey,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, a weak attempt to break the tension, to say something, anything, that might diffuse whatever’s building between you. But even as you say it, you don’t pull away.

He doesn’t either.

“Nah,” he replies softly, his voice lower now, the usual playfulness gone. “It’s fine.”

You’re not sure if he means the jersey or the way your fingers are still pressed against his ribs, or maybe both. Either way, the tension doesn’t break. It only tightens, drawing you both closer without either of you moving an inch.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, your breathing shallow, and for a split second, you let your gaze drop to his lips. It’s a brief, unconscious movement, but it’s enough. He notices.

Conor shifts, barely perceptibly, but you feel it—the subtle lean, the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. Your heart pounds, the room spinning around the two of you like everything else has fallen away. You’re not even sure how you ended up here, this close, this vulnerable, but the pull is undeniable.

Your hand slides down slightly, resting at his waist now, and his breath hitches. You feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body seems to react to your touch, and for a second, you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment you’ve both been avoiding for so long, the moment where everything changes.

His lips part, and your breath catches. You’re so close now, close enough to feel the heat of him, to see the soft curve of his mouth, to—

The door creaks open behind you, and the spell shatters.

You both freeze, the tension shattering as one of the assistant coaches pokes his head in. "Hey, Garland, you still in here?" The coach looks between the two of you, oblivious to what he just interrupted.

Conor jerks back so quickly it’s like he’s been caught doing something illegal, while your hand falls from him. His face flushes, but not from the game—this time, it’s from almost being caught in a moment he’s not ready to explain.

"Uh, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Just, uh... icing my bruise."

You bite back a laugh, feeling the heat rise to your own cheeks. The moment is gone, but the weight of it lingers in the air.

"Well, hurry it up. Coach wants to talk to you before you head out," the assistant says, already halfway out the door.

You both stand there for a second after the door shuts, the silence deafening. Conor looks at you, the tension still simmering under the surface, but neither of you speaks. It’s like the almost-kiss is still hanging between you, unfinished and waiting.

Finally, Conor clears his throat. "Guess I should... go."

"Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "Guess so."

He hesitates, lingering in the doorway for a second longer than necessary, his eyes catching yours one last time. And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the weight of what almost happened.

You’ve been replaying what happened in your head, the way his eyes lingered, the warmth of his skin under your touch, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. It’s like a loop that you can’t quite break free from.

But now, that moment feels distant, swept away by the frenetic energy of another game night. Only this time, it’s different.

The door slams open.

You jump, turning on instinct, and what you see makes your heart plummet. Conor’s standing there, but he’s not limping theatrically this time. Blood runs down the side of his face, stark against his pale skin, dripping onto his jersey, which is streaked with snow and sweat. His eyes are wild, his chest heaving, and for the first time, there’s no playful glint, no teasing smirk. Just anger.

"Garland," you breathe, stepping toward him, already reaching for the gauze, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you. He’s pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscles working beneath his skin.

"Stupid," he mutters under his breath, swiping a hand over his face, smearing the blood. "Stupid, stupid hit."

"Conor," you say softly, trying to get him to focus on you, to stop moving. He doesn’t. His eyes are unfocused, his movements erratic, as though he’s still stuck in the heat of the game, reliving whatever hit sent him flying into the boards.

You step closer, cautiously. "Hey, come on. You need to sit down. Let me look at that cut."

He finally stops pacing, but when his eyes meet yours, they’re blazing. "I don’t care about the damn cut," he snaps, though the anger in his voice isn’t directed at you. It’s frustration, bubbling just beneath the surface.

You swallow, trying to maintain your calm. "I know you don’t, but I do."

He blinks, his brows furrowing, like your words hit something in him, pulling him out of his angry haze. But then he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to brush it off. "They’re out to get me," he mutters, more to himself than to you, but you hear it.

Your chest tightens. You’ve seen him frustrated before, of course. Hockey’s a brutal game; it comes with the territory. But this… this feels different. Conor Garland is many things—annoying, playful, sometimes overly dramatic—but angry? Not like this. Not pacing the room with his hands curled into fists like he’s ready to punch the wall. You have to do something—anything—to bring him back to himself before he loses it completely.

"Conor, sit down," you say again, firmer this time. "Please."

Something in your voice must reach him because he stops, his shoulders slumping as if all the fight has gone out of him in an instant. He sits on the edge of the exam table, and you move quickly, grabbing the gauze and antiseptic. His eyes follow you, but they’re distant, like he’s not fully present.

You stand between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and gently tilt his head back to get a better look at the cut. It’s deep, angrier than you expected, but not the worst you’ve seen. Still, the blood has matted his hair, trailing down his temple, and his breathing is shallow, labored.

"This might sting," you murmur, pressing the gauze to his forehead, dabbing at the blood. You try to stay focused, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his body coiled tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"That guy…" he starts, voice low and bitter. "He didn’t have to hit me like that. It wasn’t even about the puck."

"I know," you say quietly, your fingers moving methodically as you clean the wound. "It’s not fair."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You focus on your work, but every so often, your gaze flickers to his face, to the way his jaw is still clenched, to the way his chest still rises and falls with that uneven breath. You can feel the anger radiating off him, but there’s something else too—something vulnerable, hidden beneath all that frustration.

"Why are you letting this get to you?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conor doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is fixed on some distant point over your shoulder, like he’s trying to hold it together, trying not to snap. But then his shoulders sag, and he drops his head into his hands. "I don’t know," he admits, voice muffled. "I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much."

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling your heart ache for him. You’ve never seen him this rattled, this shaken. It’s unsettling, seeing him like this, and you don’t know what to do other than be here, right here, in this moment with him.

Gently, you reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder. His skin is warm, muscles tense beneath your fingers, but the contact seems to ground him. He lifts his head slowly, meeting your eyes for the first time since he walked in.

"It’s just… one hit," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But I can’t shake it."

"It’s not just the hit, is it?" you ask, watching him carefully.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "No. It’s not."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You finish bandaging his cut, your hands moving slowly, deliberately, trying to draw out the process because you’re not ready for this moment to end. You don’t want him to walk away like this, all pent-up frustration and unresolved tension.

He’s quiet now, his chest no longer heaving with anger, but his eyes—his eyes are still filled with something heavy, something you can’t quite place. He’s staring at you, and you can feel his gaze, warm and intent, as though he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. You’re not sure if you’re ready to hear them anyway. Your pulse thrums in your ears, loud and persistent, and for the first time, you realize how close you’re standing.

You clear your throat, suddenly aware of how his legs are framing your hips, how his knees brush your thighs every time either of you moves. His hands rest loosely on his lap now, no longer clenched into fists, but the tension hasn’t entirely dissipated. It’s just shifted into something else, something quieter but no less intense. You can feel it humming in the air between you.

"Conor," you begin, your voice coming out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper. "You’re… it’s going to be okay." You know how inadequate the words sound, but you don’t know what else to say. You just want to fill the silence, to soothe whatever storm is still brewing inside him.

His eyes flicker, and his jaw works as though he’s chewing on something he can’t quite get out. "I’m not—" He stops himself, eyes dropping to the floor, and you watch as his shoulders slump again. "I don’t usually… I’m not like this."

You don’t respond immediately, just watch him, the way he avoids looking at you, the way his hands flex on his lap like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. It’s strange seeing him so out of sorts, the guy who’s always cracking jokes, always looking for a way to make you laugh, now sitting here, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You take a breath and move closer, letting your fingers brush against his shoulder again. "You don’t have to explain anything to me. Everyone has bad days." Your voice is soft, reassuring, but your heart is pounding harder now, louder, as if it’s trying to force its way through your ribcage.

Conor looks up then, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze isn’t wild anymore, but there’s something else in it, something that makes your breath catch. His lips part, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to say something, something that will change everything.

But he hesitates, his throat working like the words are caught there, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the closeness, of the heat between you, of how your bodies are aligned. You don’t move, don’t dare to, because if you do, you might shatter whatever fragile balance you’ve found.

"I don’t know how to say this," he finally mutters, his voice rough and low, almost pained. His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second, and your breath stutters.

Your heart is racing now, louder than before, and you can feel the room tilting, your pulse in your throat as the tension pulls taut. He’s so close, his face inches from yours, the scent of sweat and blood mingling in the air between you, and you realize with a jolt that this is it. This is the moment where everything shifts, where the teasing, the faked injuries, the lingering touches, all of it finally snaps into focus.

Conor shifts again, his knee pressing slightly against your thigh, and his voice drops even lower. "I’ve been trying to tell you, but I—" He stops, his eyes dark and searching, like he’s looking for something in your face. "You’re more than just… I mean, I’m always…"

You don’t let him finish. Because before you know it, you’re moving, and you’re pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you’re both unsure. His lips are warm, and you can taste the faint tang of his blood on them, but you don’t care. For a moment, everything stills—no tension, no frustration, just him, here, with you. His hands, which had still been clenched on his lap, slide up to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The anger, the frustration that had been radiating off him moments before, melts away, replaced by something softer, something unspoken but understood.

When you finally pull back, your breath comes in short, uneven bursts. You meet his eyes, half-expecting him to pull away, to say something to ruin the moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” he mutters, his voice low, teasing, but there’s a softness there too, a warmth you haven’t heard from him before.

You can’t help but laugh softly, your heart still racing. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his eyes darker now, softer. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of you, like nothing else exists outside this room.

For the first time all night, he smiles—really smiles—and it’s like the tension finally breaks. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. The frustration, the anger, the game—it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels fragile but perfect, like you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and his eyes soften, the vulnerability still there, but less jagged now, smoothed by your words. “But you need to go out there and win that fuckin’ game.”

“Okay,” He says, but leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, this one slower, gentler, as though he’s savoring it. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek, and his smile lingers, the tension from earlier now a distant memory. “But, we’re doing a lot more of this–” he gestures between the two of you, “Later.”

[thescarletnargacuga]

We've had mother and son bonding with Pomni and Cade. Now how about some father and son time? It can be silly or sad, I just really enjoy seeing the little muppet boy.

A/N: Cade deserves something nice after the last couple stories involving him in peril

REACH OUT

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

AU credit @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

WARNING: none

~~~

Deep in the basement depths of the manor lies Caine's workshop. A cavernous room full of equipment for designing and engineering inventions from the mind of the puppetmaster. Everything from watches and weapons to puppets themselves have been developed in that room. Most days, Caine retreats to his workshop for solitude with his thoughts, but today he brought a little helper.

For the first time, Cade was allowed to help his dad tinker. The young puppet sat on a tall stool, waiting for his dad to give him a task. Unable to keep still in his excitement, Cade fidgeted in place, but kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to touch something he wasn't supposed to and get kicked out on his first real visit to the workshop.

Caine focused on a small actuator, using his own energy to power the tools to construct the piece. He set down one of his tools and held his hand out to Cade. "Hey, be a sport and hand me the soldering needle?"

Cade snapped to attention on the stool and looked around the workbench. "Uh! Um....the sodder needle? This?"

Caine held in his laughter. "That's a wrench."

"Oh, sorry. Is it, uh, this thing?"

Caine snorted. "That's a screwdriver. Are you doing this on purpose?" He teased.

"No! I- I can find it." Cade searched furiously for what he thought could be the tool.

Caine picked up the tool that was right next to him. "This one, champ. It's pointy, like a needle."

"Oh." Cade sat back down and crossed his arms in a huff.

Caine pat Cade on the head. "Don't worry about it. You'll hand me the next one." He went back to the project at hand. Blue electric energy flowed through the tool, creating a tiny arc and soldering small parts in place.

Cade watched his dad with wide eyed fascination. The power of soul magic so effortlessly wielded was what he hoped to one day achieve. It was the coolest thing in the world. "How do you do that?"

"Do what, son?" Caine asked without looking up.

"What you're doing. The blue light. How do you make that do what you wanted to do?"

Caine stopped, contemplating how to explain soul magic in a way Cade would understand. "Your soul magic is an extension of your will. If you want something bad enough, you can make it happen. I want to power these tools to help me build the actuator. So I make it happen."

"But...how?" Cade featured with his hands in confusion.

"Practice. You have to really dig deep down inside yourself and find the inner strength to mold reality to your will."

"Wow. Sounds hard."

"Sometimes it is. Like I said, practice. Here," Caine picked up a spare lightbulb from a parts box. He held it by the conductive metal and it glowed bright blue in his fingers. "This is a very simple exercise. Will your energy to flow through the lightbulb to make it glow. Careful not to squeeze it too hard."

"Okay!" Cade held the lightbulb with both hands and stared at it without blinking.

Caine watched for a moment before going back to what he was doing. He finished the actuator and moved on to another part of the project at the workbench. "Your new toy is coming along nicely-"

"SHHH!" Cade shushed dramatically.

"Sorry." Caine said, smiling to himself.

Several minutes went by. Cade narrowed his drying eyes at the lightbulb. He wanted it to work! His dad made it look so easy. He twisted and turned the bulb. He changed hands. He tried everything he could think of. "Ugh! What am I doing wrong?"

"You're reaching with the wrong part." Caine turned on his stool to face Cade.

"Huh..?"

"Soul magic doesn't come from the hands. It comes from the heart." Caine pressed his fingertip to Cade's chest. "That is where all of you lives. To use soul magic, you have to reach out."

"Reach out..." Cade stared at the bulb again, even harder. "Reach. Out."

The bulb flickered yellow for less than a second. Cade dropped the bulb from being startled, but Caine caught it.

"You did it!" Caine stood and lifted Cade off his stool in celebration. "You actually did it! That's incredible!"

"I- I did it!? Wow! Can I show mom??" Cade wiggled in his dad's arms.

"Yeah! Let's go!" Caine rushed out of the room with Cade on his hip. "Pomni, dear!! You have to come see this!"

[arcaneyouth]

the worst part about how much i fell behind on my tasks this week is i have to catch up while still not being at 100% and it's so annoying. like yeah i could do all this. if i was feeling good. but i wouldn't have fallen behind if i had felt good all week now would i.

[boysareouttonight]

everyone says hero or hate crime ptsdee and gang tends bar are episodes that are connected and this is so real. mac realized his feelings for dennis right after the came out bc before that he was in denial about everything else including being in love with dennis. we have to consider all the repressed feelings from years back hit him at all once so he couldn't stop thinking about it and thats why he has that dream in ptsdee. when dennis shuts the door in macs face it obviously meant dennis rejecting macs feelings for him bc in macs head dennis reciprocating is smth that would never happen no matter how bad he wanted it (making dennis touch his face, lean in for a kiss but ultimately pulling back and then he wakes up bc reality hit him). and then in gang tends bar when mac gave him the rpg it wasn't just about dennis it was also about mac and what it meant for him. i personally think it meant him accepting his feelings for dennis and being ok with never getting anything back. its him realizing hes stuck with having to live every day with someone he can't have but being fine with it bc making dennis happy is already enough for him. that episode was macs closure and dennis' awakening.

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[bpmiranda]

Uncle Logan II |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: pure smut, uncle!logan x faux!niece reader, smut, age gap, 18+ f!reader, clit play, fingering, spitting, orgasm denial, mean!logan, dom!logan

Uncle Logan

The hell is wrong with me? Logan thought to himself the next morning as he laid awake on his bed, rubbing his hand over his face and scratching his beard in frustration. Before yesterday, he had never looked at you in that manner, but something about seeing you all grown up, dressed up so pretty, so vulnerable for him. It was like he couldn’t help himself, he needed to taste you so badly, his instincts taking over any reason he had left.

It couldn’t be as bad as he thought, you weren’t really his niece at the end of the day. Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgotten about last night and it wouldn’t come up. Logan knew that wasn’t the case when you shyly came out of your bedroom and looked at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Morning, Uncle Logan.” You said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, sweet girl,” He said, looking at you over the rim of his mug as he sipped his coffee while sitting at the kitchen table. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him and you obediently sat down. Logan pushed a mug towards you that was filled with coffee as well and you gave him a thankful smile as you sipped it slowly. “About last night,” He started, watching you carefully as he tried to figure out how to word this for you. “I hope you understand that I’m only tough on you because that’s what your parents want and that’s clearly what you need.” You chew anxiously on your bottom lip and nod slowly, hands holding tightly onto your mug as it sits in your lap. “The sneaking out, the drinking at bars, it’s gotta stop. You can’t behave like that anymore, got it?” You nod again. Logan takes in a deep breath and clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have come onto you the way I did. It wasn’t appropriate, and I apologize.”

Your cheeks grew warm with the reminder of last night and you looked down at your mug, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. “I’m sorry, Uncle Logan.” You said, looking back up at him. “I won’t sneak out again.”

“Good.”

That was the end of that conversation.

Logan made you breakfast and then gave you a list of chores to complete while he went to work. “Everything on this list?” You ask with a mouthful of eggs and he chuckles, shaking his head as he shrugs on his coat and tucks his reading glasses into the inside breast pocket.

“I warned your dad long ago not to spoil you.” He sighed with a smirk, caressing your head and kissing your forehead before leaving the apartment. “It better all be completed before I get back.” He calls as he closes the door behind him.

With a soft groan, you finish your breakfast and wash the dishes, which is the first thing on the list, and you smile. “Okay, done with that.” You say to yourself as you cross it off and then you read the rest of the list. “Sweep the apartment, mop the kitchen, clean the bathroom, wash the windows, take out the trash.” You pout and whine, already bored and annoyed with the list until you get an idea.

“You want me to come do your chores for you?” Adam laughs over the phone.

You can’t help the smile on your lips as you’re sitting on the living room couch, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “Please, baby?” You whine sweetly. “If you help me, we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.” You say in a singsong voice. “My uncle won’t be home until tonight. We can fool around a little since we couldn’t meet up last night.”

It doesn’t take much more than that to convince him and he arrives at Logan’s apartment within thirty minutes. You task him with the messier chores to do while you focus on the sweeping and the windows. When you finish before him and you tell him you’re going to take a quick shower as he leaves to take the trash out.

Underneath the hot water, you touch your chest slowly, run your fingers over the spot between your breasts where your uncle had kissed and bit on you last night. The thought made you clench your thighs together and you rushed through the rest of your shower to meet Adam in your bedroom. He was lying on your bed, flipping through a book while he waited for you, and he sat up immediately when you walked in wearing just your towel. “Hey,” He smirked, standing up and walking over to you. “Are we going to, you know?” He asked as he held onto your hips.

“No,” You smirked, pushing him back softly. “You’re going to sit on the bed and watch me.” Adam smiles as he lets you push him onto the end of your bed. You pick out a pair of black lace panties and a black camisole with a lace trim on the neckline. You drop your towel and make eye contact with your boyfriend as you slip the garments on.

“You’re killing me, sweet pea.” He groans as you walk over to him, giggling while you sat on his lap and kissed him. His hands slid slowly up your thighs and you immediately started to think about Logan. Your core ached as you remembered how his hands felt as they gripped tightly onto your thighs, your hands clutched onto his shoulders, and you pushed him back so he’d lay down. “Fuck, baby.” He groaned, grabbing your ass as you rocked your hips against his crotch.

All you could think about was Logan as you kept your eyes closed and tried to imagine it was him underneath you, pawing at you, begging for you. “Uh,” You gasped, a familiar tension forming in the pit of your belly. “Oh, oh, my God!” You groaned loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you were so close.

And then your bedroom door burst open making you gasp as you jumped off your boyfriend and scrambled to the other side of the room. Logan was standing in the doorway, fuming, looking from you to Adam who was visibly nervous underneath the hard, cold gaze of the large man blocking his only way out. “You,” Logan pointed at Adam and approached him, grabbing him roughly by the front of his shirt and dragging him out of your room. “Come with me.” You moved to stop Logan until he suddenly turned to you and you froze. “You stay right here.” He said through gritted teeth before he slammed your door shut. You could hear Logan yelling, Adam stammering back a response, and then the slam of the apartment door. You jumped at the sound, the apartment seemed to quake from the force, and you quickly got into your bed where you pulled the sheets up to cover yourself.

There was heavy pacing in the living area and it suddenly stopped. You grew nervous as you heard him coming to your door, your hands trembled as you held tightly onto your blankets. The door opened and Logan walked in with a tight jaw and cold eyes. As the door slammed behind him, you found yourself sitting up a little, almost expectantly.

“You don’t know how to follow directions, do you?” He asked, loosening his tie as he watched you cower under your sheets. “I said you had to do those chores,” Logan suddenly ripped the blankets off you and you gasped softly, watching him with big, nervous eyes. “And then, to make matters worse, you sneak your little boyfriend into my apartment.” You can feel his eyes roaming over your practically naked body with his rage-filled eyes and you fold your arms shyly over yourself. “What the hell were you planning on doing in my apartment?” He suddenly grabbed your jaw tightly in his hand, squeezing your cheeks together and getting really close to your face.

You moisten your lips, stammering nervously, eyes welling with tears. “I-I-we weren’t-Uncle Logan,” You pouted, your bottom lip quivering as a tear slid down your cheek. “I promise, I wasn’t going to do anything with him. I-I’m still a virgin.”

Logan stares at you for a moment, he knows you’re telling the truth, but you still need to be punished and you look so adorable in your little tank top and matching panties. You’re a weak man, he thinks to himself as he gives in to his filthy urges. “Still a virgin, huh?” He asks, his hand leaving your jaw, knuckles tracing down your chest to your mound. With one hand, he pushes your knees apart and he feels the wet spot on the crotch of your panties. You shudder as your pussy clenches around nothing, and he feels it. “You like to play with that boy’s head, don’t you?”

You swallow hard, scared to breathe as he is so gentle with his touch, you don’t want to deter him. “I don’t do it to be mean.” You murmur, watching his index finger with which he draws small circles over your clit. You’re biting your lip painfully hard, chest heaving, gripping tightly onto the bedsheets as he watches with amusement. You’re definitely a virgin. He can smell you, your arousal, the dampness of your panties giving away just how close you previously were to reaching an orgasm.

“Sounds like you need a taste of your own medicine.”He says decidedly as he rests a knee onto the mattress and drags you to the end of it. His hands guide your thighs around his waist and he leans one hand on the bed while the other thumbs your clit slowly over your thin panties. Your eyes roll back into your head at the pressure, the filthy feeling of being touched by your uncle. He’s not your uncle, you think to yourself as you begin to enjoy it. Your thighs lock onto him, your eyebrows scrunch together as you stare up at him with your mouth agape. His lips hover over yours, not kissing you, not even attempting to as you pant quietly against his mouth, moaning lewdly underneath his large frame. You’re gripping tightly onto the edge of the mattress, tears welling in your eyes as Logan watches you nearly come undone below him and then he stops.

That famous pout forms on your lips again and a few tears roll down your cheek as you say, “Please don’t stop, Uncle Logan.” You plead, your little body shaking as he moves your panties to the side, looking at the most private part of your body in a most intimate way.

“You’re not really in a position to call the shots.” He said, focused on your cunt as it glistened from your arousal, your core pulsed in desire, and Logan wanted so badly to taste you. “I don’t know how I’m going to get you to do as you’re told.” You whined as the pads of his index and middle fingers softly caressed your clit, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck. “Your parents warned me you’d be a hassle, but I never imagined this behavior from you.”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, breathing heavily as his fingers rubbed your sensitive, aching bud. His hot breath fanned over your collarbone and you wanted to feel his mouth somewhere else. “I’m so sorry, I want to be good for you.”

Logan smirked at your words as he kissed your perky breasts through your soft, thin camisole. The tip of his tongue circled around your hardened nipple, biting lightly on it through the fabric, making you whine loudly as he was being so gentle and slow and you desperately wanted him to ruin you. “You want to be good?” He asked, kneeling on the floor at the end of your bed between your thighs. You sat up on your forearms and nodded, watching him slowly pull your panties down your legs with warm cheeks. Logan stuffed your damp garment in his back pocket and he moved your thighs to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t cum.”

“Logan!” You gasped, your mouth dropping slightly as he spit on your cunt and rubbed his saliva onto your clit, watching you grow desperate the more he touched you. His other hand pressed down onto your lower belly, pinning you to the bed so you couldn’t wriggle away from him as you became overwhelmed with the tension of an oncoming release. “Please, I need to cum! Please, please!”

“No.”

Your eyes welled with fresh, hot tears and you sobbed as your held onto the tension, forcing yourself to resist the tantalizing pull of pleasure. “You’re so mean!” You complained as you fell back onto the bed, covering your face with your hands as you cried.

Logan only chuckled as he continued toying with your clit, breathing heavily against your sopping folds. The air of his breath made your cunt clench with want and the smell of your arousal was driving him crazy with lust. Logan would always hold out longer than you, however. “Punishments are supposed to be mean, sweet girl. You know you deserve it.”

“Uncle Logan,” You moaned, one hand tentatively tangling in his hair as you sat back up on your elbow. “I was thinking about you when I was with him.” You told him, breathless and aching for more. Logan’s fingers stopped moving and he looked at you with a darkness veiling his eyes. “I want you to be my first.”

No, she’s your niece, he thought to himself. She’s basically your niece, it’s wrong. “Don’t do that.” He said, his index finger tracing the rim of your core, pushing in slowly to feel at your gummy walls. “You don’t want that.”

“It’s true,” Your other hand grabbed onto his hair as well, and you sat up to press your lips to his mouth. The scratch of his beard against your chin made you moan and he kissed you back, one hand on the side of your neck as his fingers continued feeling their way into your tight core, twisting slowly to stretch you gently. “Uncle Logan, I want you to fuck me.” You mewled as you pulled him over you, lying back with his large frame hovering above you as he continued finger fucking you. His tongue intertwined with yours, grunting against your kiss as you whined for him and pushed your trembling little frame into him. His fingers were quickly coated in the creamy, white sheen of your arousal, the juices threatening to spill out of you while you whimpered against his lips, desperately grinding into his hand. “Please, please, please!” You begged, burying your face in his chest as you were, once again, so close.

“Are you on birth control?” Logan suddenly found himself asking, hoping you’d say yes, and lightly clicking his tongue when you shyly shake your head. “Then I can’t fuck you, baby.” His fingers leave your warm, sopping cunt before you reach a release for the third time and you cry softly, covering your face again as he keeps your thighs spread apart so he can spit on your abused hole, cruelly rubbing his saliva into your clit one last time.

“Please, I wanna cum so bad.” You whimpered as he pulled the sheets back over you and licked his fingers clean off.

“Maybe if you followed directions the first time you wouldn’t feel so unsatisfied now.” He said in a harsh tone as he adjusted the hard shaft in his pants while looking at you lying breathless and annoyed in your bed. “Only good girls get rewarded, sweetheart.”

You were left alone in your bedroom, quietly trying to get yourself back to the brink of orgasm while Logan stood on the other side of your door, listening intently to your muffled moans and gasps as he stroked himself with your panties around his cock. His cum stained the lace fabric as he heard you whisper his name in pleasure, whining at the thought of him, and he grunted quietly with his release. They’re ruined, you wouldn’t want them back, he told himself as he kept your underwear and slept with it balled up in his hand the whole night.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

Uncle Logan III

Uncle Logan Epilogue

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @pinkanonwriting @captain039 @fictionalmen-dilflover @shybluebirdninja @virgoxfa1ry @thatweirdtheaternerd12

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (2)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : aaand I just couldn't let this storyline go. Typical. Best to read part one before this one :)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan have gotten a lot closer since the press tour for season two, but neither one has made a move. The reader is spotted with another costar, giving rise to rumours of romance.

The press tour came and went like a fever dream. From Paris to New York to London, everyone had been highly anticipating your upcoming show.

Albeit you had a minor role, it all seemed like everything you could ever wish for.

A blossoming career. Lifelong friends made from your peers. The overwhelming support from audiences.

Only two episodes have since been released to the public, and already your character has become a fan-favourite.

Sadly, you and Ewan only had that one press day together, after which you were paired with other cast members. That didn't stop the onslaught of comments under your interviews with him, fans stating how good you looked together. Speculating whether there was something going on between you two.

You are good friends, but that's all.

He calls you often, mostly in the evenings after you're both finished with work. He sticks close to you during premiere after-parties. Now and again, you would catch him looking at you from across the room.

But... well... that's all there is to that.

Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he only sees you as a good friend, and this is just how he is. With his effortless charm and cheeky remarks that can be mistaken as flirting, you think that maybe you're reading too much into it all.

"Ewan likes you, you know," Phia looks at you over her shoulder, as she does her makeup in front of your dresser.

The cast is having a private get-together in Fabien's apartment for a night, and yourself and Phia decide to prep together, her own place only being five minutes away from yours.

"He's just being nice," you shake your head at her observation, as you sift through your closet looking for a top.

"He's not that nice to everyone," Phia laughs. "Trust me, that lad fancies you and it's plain as day. Ask anyone, I mean, Tom even pointed it out the other day."

"And Ewan was there with you guys?"

"Uh-huh," Phia swivels her chair around, all done, nodding at you, "Poor sod just about turned red as a beet."

"What did he say?" you ask, not even bothering to hide your curiosity. Phia's got your back, after all.

"Well..." Phia glanced away, weighing just how much she is at liberty to say. Ewan's her friend just as much as you are, and she doesn't know how deep she can meddle in this.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing bad, promise," Phia walks over, then takes over the task of sorting through your closet, "He likes you. A lot. But it seems like he's apprehensive about jumping into a relationship right now."

You plop down on your bed in a huff, "I guess that makes sense."

"Chin up, darling," Phia turns around, arms folded behind her, concealing her chosen top for you. "You're both rising stars, with great careers ahead of you. If you're going to commit to each other, you're gonna have to do it right."

You smile, because you can't help it, the high from landing your dream career not yet subsiding.

"And," Phia continues, "even if he's too chicken to make a move, that doesn't mean you can't torture him with this." She grins, presenting a green satin top, the material weightless and shimmering.

"This? Are you sure?" It was definitely revealing, and it would have your back exposed, only tied together by two strings.

"Ewan loves green," she hands it to you, and you hold it up with concern etched in your features.

"I guess I could wear this," you mumble.

"Oh, you will wear it," Phia smirks, pushing you over to your bathroom so you can get changed.

Already wearing your trusty pair of bootcut jeans, you shimmy into the slinky top, calling out to Phia so she can assist with securing the strings at your back.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," she beams at you in your bathroom mirror. "Ewan is going to melt at the sight of you, doll."

"Huh," you say, checking yourself out in the reflection. "Okay then, I think we're ready - "

Your phone rings, cutting you off. Phia beats you to it, and her face is scandalous when she raises your phone up like it's precious evidence.

Ewan's name flashes bright on the screen.

"Oh, look who it is!" Phia practically sings, "Lover boy."

"Give me that," you demand, reaching for your phone, but Phia quickly sidesteps you and presses the screen to answer the call.

You gasp, and the both of you struggle to keep down an incoming fit of giggles. Phia then clicks on the speaker mode, and Ewan can be heard saying your name, his tone a bit confused.

"Are you there?" Ewan asks.

"Yeah, I'm here," you take the phone, waving to Phia so she doesn't make a fuss.

"Hmm," he says. "I hope I'll be seeing you tonight. The party won't be as good without you."

"Well, Phia and I just finished getting ready," you glance at her, and she makes a kissy face at you.

"Hello, Mr. Whipped," she playfully cuts in with this greeting, effectively letting Ewan know he's on speaker.

You hear Ewan snort on the other end, before he says, "Hello to you too, Phi."

"We should be heading out in 15 minutes, and we'll be there on time," you let him know.

"Okay, I suppose I'll see you guys there," he replies.

"Okay." A beat of silence passes, and Phia just shrugs at you.

"I, uh - " he finally speaks up again, but hesitates.

"Yeah?"

He clears his throat, having decided on saying, "Nevermind. See you soon, darling."

The line cuts off. You slowly let your hand fall to the side, sighing at how it abruptly ended. Shaking off your worries, you look at Phia once more, and she already has her line all prepared. "See you soon, darling," she recites in a low voice, imitating Ewan.

"Oh, shush," you shove her playfully, and she shoves you right back.

"I can't wait to see you, darling," she continues teasing you, laughing, and you can't help but blush and smile, finding her endearing.

"Well, let's go," she says, picking up her things, "your darling boy of Derby awaits."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Fabien greets you at the door with that perfect smile of his, arms outstretched to pull you and Phia into a hug.

"Welcome, welcome," he greets, leading you into his apartment, where most of the cast is already assembled, including Ewan.

You happily exchange pleasantries with everyone. Chatting with Emma and Olivia. Profusely thanking Matt when he gushes over your outfit. Catching up with Harry and Bethany. All the while sensing that Ewan watches you from somewhere in the room.

You're eventually directed by Tom to the corner table where Ewan and Phia share a loveseat, drinks in hand.

"I'll get you a drink," Tom kindly declares, heading to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Tom," you say. You sit next to Phia, leaving her between yourself and Ewan. You finally say to him, "Hey, you. How are you doing? Got here early?"

Ewan's jaw clenches and loosens, and you catch his eyes quickly drift down to rake over your figure. When he meets your eyes again, his pupils are considerably dilated.

The boy just shamelessly checked you out.

"Ewan," you hear Phia say, elbowing Ewan from beside him. "She just asked you a question, be polite." She wags her eyebrows at you, mouthing the words lover boy.

Ewan hears that, astute as he is, and it snaps him out of whatever haze he seemed to be stuck in.

He shakes his head at himself, offering a smile to you. "I got here just before you guys," he answers. His voice lowers when he adds, "You look really good, darling."

You smile in return. "Thanks. So do you."

Phia beams at the exchange, then makes some excuse of having to catch up with the others. The look she gives you before sliding off the seat reveals that she just wanted to give her two lovebirds some privacy.

"So," Ewan inches closer to you, his arm outstretched on the back of the seat, "how did the script turn out?"

"It was better than expected," you say. He refers to a script you told him about a week ago, for a potential project which will shoot in Atlanta in the fall. "I'm supposed to meet with the director pretty soon to discuss it further, but I think it might be the right fit."

"That's amazing," he expresses sincerely. "Rian Johnson's a brilliant director and they would be lucky to have you as their lead."

"Thanks, Ewan! Yeah, I'm really excited for it, it's a lot different from House of the Dragon, but I'm all in for the challenge, you know."

"Is it a drama film, or thriller, or - "

"Oh, it's a rom-com, actually."

"Oh," he nods, leaning back a little, like that needed a bit of processing. "And you'll have a romantic co-lead..."

"That's right, and - " you confirm.

He smirks, like he just thought of something amusing. "Well, maybe I could - "

But you finish your statement then, " - I think Jacob Elordi has just been selected as my partner in the film."

His face scrunches in apparent distaste, "Has he now?"

"Mhmm." You note the switches in his expression, how his face fell when you mentioned your upcoming co-star. He can't have something against Jacob; they already did a film together and it seemed like it went well on set.

That thing nags at you, that little spring of vanity and desire creating warmth in your stomach. That Ewan might be jealous.

Which is ridiculous, given your shared line of work. Besides, you were not together. What could he possibly be jealous over?

"You've worked with him, right? What's he like?" you continue the topic, keeping watch for the minutiae of his reactions.

"He's... he's a good actor, I guess. Dedicated and all that. Pleasant on set." His answer is curt, not giving away any details, tone flat like he's disinterested.

"Riiight," you nod slowly, smiling impishly at him to get him to lighten up, "I'm sure he'll be just as pleasant on our set then. Good to know."

He catches the look you're giving him, causing the corner of his lips to pull in a soft crooked smile. "Hmm, be that as it may... I think I'll do a much better job as your love interest, don't you?"

"Oh, will you now?" you lean forward, and he does the same.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he whispers conspiratorially, like there's a secret to be shared. "According to the internet, we have a lot of chemistry. Practically oozing with it, based on some comments I read."

"You've been lurking on comments? You? The last crusader against all social media?" you joke, fully knowing that he keeps a few shadow accounts just to keep up with how his work is being received by the public.

"Sure," he shrugs his shouders dramatically, " that, and also to stalk your page, of course."

"Oh, of course," you quip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

You share another laugh, feeling light all over, and even lighter when his fingertips brush against your arm for a few seconds. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you sneakily rub your arms to cover the effect he had on you.

Tom reappears from the side, handing you a drink as promised, "What are you kids giggling about over here?"

"Nothing," you share, "just that Ewan is planning to join Instagram."

"A damn miracle, that!" Tom exclaims, lightly punching Ewan in the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Ewan looks at you warmly, playing along, "you can be in charge of keeping my account running."

"Tough job. All those fan messages I'll have to answer."

"Yeah, you'll have to quit your day job," Tom adds jokingly. "It was fun while it lasted. The industry will miss you."

You feel a pressure by your shoulders, and notice that it's Ewan's arm snug behind you on the seat. In the midst of conversation, he must have drawn even closer. You glance down briefly and see his knees touching yours.

You nervously take a huge gulp of your drink. There is no hiding the effect he has on you now.

"Don't you two look cute?" Tom comments, then he stands right in front of the loveseat and puts his phone up. Before you can say anything, a clicking sound makes it clear that he has taken a photo of you and Ewan.

"Awww, I ship it," Tom gushes afterward as he looks at the photo. He then reaches over and passes his phone to you.

The image betrays what the both of you are probably struggling to hide - it's there, clear as day. The attraction, the tension, the chemistry. Ewan practically has his arm around you, looking at you intensely with the inscrutable spark in his eyes. His teeth lightly clamping down on his lip in desire.

There's a subtle scrunch between your eyebrows as you return Ewan's look, a result of trying to maintain composure when he is so close. But your posture is relaxed, almost cozying right up against him, showing just how comfortable you feel around him.

As Tom just said, you ship it.

If only.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Two weeks after the party at Fabien's, the main cast members of House of the Dragon are engaged in an additional round of promo work. Season two is at its peak, and the media is just clamoring to get more from the cast.

Some are booked for photoshoots, others for interviews.

While a minor character in the show, they also wanted you to take part in engaging with the press, but you are already busy with your upcoming film with Jacob. You're currently out in LA, doing rehearsals in preparation for the actual shoot.

Ewan is yet again lounging in a hotel suite, about to do an interview with Vanity Fair.

He sends you a text, in response to your complaint about a difficult scene.

You had shared, It's a pretty dramatic scene. What if I can't cry on command?

He easily texts back, You can do it, darling. Trust me, you're one of the most talented young actors I know.

- Thanks, Ewan. Good luck with your interview!

- Thank you, good luck with rehearsal. I miss --

Ewan pauses typing. I miss you, he aches to send. He does miss you so much. Why can't he just commit to it?

He ends up sending, I'll see you soon, in its place.

He knows he wants to do everything with you. Take you out on dates. Sweep you off your feet. Travel to wherever you will be filming just to see you. Confess how much he wants you.

Why can't he? It's terrifying to him, being with someone, in danger of falling in love - truly falling in love - with a fellow actor, and that relationship exposed to much public scrutiny.

He's always been a private person, so will he be able to handle all of that? Acting is his first love, and he's devoted to the craft. If he succumbs to his desire for you, will that cause him to go off track?

What if the relationship is not well-received? He is aware of how passionate fans can be. What if they cruelly decide to make you the object of their ire as a result? He can't possibly put you through that.

But... but fuck it.

The Aemond in him turns proud and defiant. Why can't he? Why shouldn't he?

He types another message in a second, then clicks send.

And I miss you.

His publicist walks over to him, giving him a few last-minute instructions. In a few minutes, the room is all composed and the interview is ready to begin.

The line of questioning has almost become routine-like for him, a far cry from when he first started giving shorter interviews for previous projects.

The answers flow from him smoothly, stemming from his care for Aemond and the show.

Near the end of the interview, he is asked about the remaining normalcy of his life. Surely it has all changed ever since he landed the show?

"Well, I try to go back to my hometown as much as possible. Just, you know, spending time where I grew up really helps maintain a sense of normal, for me," he responds. "It keeps my feet planted on the ground, that is, when I'm not on dragonback flying high up in the clouds."

The interviewer promptly laughs at his last remark, then asks, "What's next for you? Your fans are just eagerly awaiting your next project. Maybe a film like your new costar? Everyone is excited for her film with Jacob Elordi."

Ewan can't hide the way he perks up at the mention of you, never mind how Jacob is included too. "Ah, yes, well there are some things down the line for me. More than anything, I want to choose a project that I am passionate about, with a story and a character that is rich and complex. Whichever that is, I guess you'll find out soon!"

"Yes, yes, we will!"

"And about her project, I mean, I'm just so proud of her. We've become really close and I think she's a fantastic actress and person. She's going to smash it in this film, that's for sure."

The interviewer nods enthusiastically, smirking as he adds, "Apparently a bit of romance on the cards for her as well!"

"You mean in the movie?" Ewan replies, half-smiling in confusion. But he spies his publicist gesturing to the interviewer from behind the camera, a signal that private affairs are off-limits.

After a final question, the interview wraps up.

His publicist grumbles to him afterward, as they prepare to leave the room. "It was clear that no private questions are allowed. Sorry about that, Ewan."

"It's alright, that was... well, what was he on about? Did he mean romance between the two of us?"

"I believe he's talking about Jacob and her. They were spotted out in LA today. The interviewer probably just wanted you to spill some dirt on your costar."

Ewan frowns, "What do mean they were spotted?"

His publicist appears surprised at his question, and his obvious interest. "They've been papped walking arm in arm in LA. Seemed pretty close, not that it's any of that interviewer's business."

As they walk out of the hotel, Ewan can't help but do an immediate Google search of your name, and sure enough, the headlines about your walk with Jacob are abound.

He can't pinpoint how he feels as he sees the photos, the statuesque Jacob with his arm around you as you beam up at him. He notices that his grip on his phone has tightened, so he turns it off quickly and shoves it in his pocket.

Whatever this is, and how it makes him feel, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

His phone vibrates from his pocket, but he ignores it.

So he doesn't yet see your reply.

I miss you too.

💌 next chapter

Ewaaaan! Make a move, my guy!

As much as we'd like to see them make declarations of love or get into the passion quick, I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. How would two young actors begin dating? Reader, kudos to you for keeping it cool as a cucumber thus far - it's up to Ewan to make the big move.

Part three may be the last. What'll they be? Just friends? PR relationship? Notorious fling? Or new celebrity power couple?

MASSIVE thanks for all the lovely feedback for part one! 💙

Update: if you wish to be tagged in part three, let me know in the comments 💌

[4theitgirls]

study methods

the second brain method

this method focuses on organizing the information you learn to maximize effectiveness. a common way of doing this is through the CODE method:

capture - be quick and efficient in how you receive the information

organize - organize the information in a way that works for you

distill - break the information down to its key elements

express - apply the information you’ve learned

* there is a ton of information out there about this method. if you struggle with burnout and knowing where to start, i recommend researching this method further to figure out what works for you.

the pomodoro method

the pomodoro method is a time management method. the most common expression of this method is to pick a task, work for 25 minutes on that task, then take a break for 5 minutes. then, repeat. if you’re planning to work all day, you may up the time spent studying. for example, after a while of this, you may work for 30 minutes at a time, then 40, then 45, and so forth. this method is particularly good for when you’re feeling unmotivated or having a hard time focusing. if you’re still not feeling it after a while, you may start to take longer breaks. for example, you may study for 30 minutes, break for 15, and keep going like that.

the 5 minute rule method

this method is good for when you have to do a shorter task, but you’re procrastinating doing it. this method requires you to dedicate only 5 minutes to do your task. after that, you may stop, but chances are, once you’ve started, finishing won’t be as difficult.

the blurting method

this method is particularly good for revision. the blurting method requires you to read over the content you are learning, then put it away and write down everything you know or can remember. then, check the content and revise everything you didn’t write down.

spaced repetition

spaced repetition requires you to spread out your study reviews over the period of a few days. this has been shown to improve memory. rather than studying one thing at a time, then studying something else the next day and so on, review the information right after you’ve learned it, then recall it after a few hours, then a few days, then a few weeks, and so on. if you’re studying something you will need to remember for an extended period of time, this method would be perfect for you!

active recall

this is my absolute favorite method! it’s been shown to improve your studying immensely and so many people have benefited from practicing active recall. active recall involves retrieving information from your brain, usually done through questions. a good way to do this is to explain the concept to yourself, to someone else, or act like you’re doing a presentation on the subject. after you’ve recalled all of the information you know about the subject, go over your material again and be sure you covered everything and explained everything the best way you could. if you didn’t, review everything you did not remember or got wrong, and go again. do this until you get everything. doing this can also be referred to as the feynman technique.

the SQ3r method

survey - skim your text and identify bolded text, headers, images, etc.

question - generate questions about the text based on what you surveyed. what are the key concepts in this text? what is each paragraph about? what information do i need to take away from this text?

read - read through the entire text and answer the questions you created

recite - summarize what you learned in your own words

review - recall the key concepts and answers to your questions

[dixons-sunshine]

Hazelnut | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl didn’t know exactly what he expected when his group settled into Alexandria—maybe some snobby, incompetent inhabitants who couldn’t stand their ground if something were to happen or people who would turn on him and his group at any given moment, but definitely not a little girl who basically attached herself to his hip. And he definitely didn’t expect to find himself drawn to the mother of that little girl.

Genre: Fluff, angst but not a lot.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour war. (Timeline is kinda wonky. Saviours kinda don’t exist in this? I don’t really know.)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, child abandonment, mental abuse, mentions of drugs and alcohol, single parenthood, sexual content but not smut.

Word count: 8.1k.

A/n: This was such a cute idea that @louifaith had! I tried my best, but it honestly sucks. I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I hope you like it! Also, definitely go check out @celtic-crossbow’s version! Pure perfection, honestly.

“You have to lighten up, Daryl. How do you expect to make any friends with that ‘leave me alone’ attitude of yours?”

Daryl grumbled to himself as he continued tinkering with his crossbow. The hot late afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the community as its inhabitants continued about their tasks. Daryl had silently been observing everyone from the porch steps he was sitting on, enjoying the moment of solitude he had, but Carol had other ideas.

“Daryl,” Carol started, crossing her arms as she descended down the steps. She turned around to face Daryl, her voice stern. “It would do you good to socialize a bit.”

“I talked to Tobin when we finished up with the construction of the new walls yesterday,” Daryl replied nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused on his crossbow instead of the stern woman in front of him.

“That doesn’t count. That’s work talk. I'm talking about actual socialising. Like, striking up a conversation with someone that isn’t in our group or someone you have to talk to for work.”

“I dun’ need to. Y’all are the only company I need. Ain’t gon’ waste my time tryna make buddies with people who dun’ even like me,” Daryl responded with a sense of finality, gripping his crossbow and getting up. “Now get off my back, woman.”

“Where are you going?” Carol called after him, watching the archer walk away from the house.

“Somewhere,” he replied shortly, ending the conversation effectively.

Slightly irritated, Daryl walked with no particular destination in mind. He passed by some people who sent him friendly greetings and small waves, which he returned half-heartedly. After a while of mindlessly walking about, Daryl stopped in front of a makeshift park of sorts. It was a small area surrounded by grass and had a big tree towards the edge. He moved to sit on the grass underneath the shade of the tree. The few kids in the community loved to play in this area, but it was deserted for now; the perfect place for the archer to relax for a while.

Daryl went about sharpening his knife for a while. The mediocre task kept his mind busy, busy enough to ignore the parents and kids who arrived, busy enough to ignore the wary stares the parents threw his way. Daryl simply shook his head—even after two months, there were still people who were wary of him and the rest of his group. Even after everything they did and sacrificed to ensure the community's safety.

“Mistah lonely?”

Startled, Daryl’s head shot up and his eyes locked with those of a little girl who looked no older than three years old. The girl looked at him with curiosity written all over her young face, eyeing the knife in the archer’s hands with wonder. She tentatively reached forward to touch the knife, her fingertips close to making contact with the cold metal of the dangerous weapon.

Daryl jerked the knife away and out of reach of the young girl. “Dun’ touch that,” he barked coldly, standing up to keep the knife out of the young girl’s reach.

“Sharp mife?” the girl questioned, moving closer towards the archer. She reached up to grab his arm, trying to reach the knife.

Daryl frowned at the girl. He gently pried his arm away from the girl’s grasp and took a step back, unnerved by the soft touch of the child’s hands. That didn't seem to deter the girl, however.

“Mistah use sharp mife?”

“Scram, kid. Go back to yer mama.”

“Mama?” the girl asked, her eyes lighting up at the mere mention of her mother. “Mama! Get Mama!”

“What? No, that ain’t—” Daryl started, but was abruptly cut off when the girl took off and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, wobbling more like a penguin than anything else. Daryl raised his eyebrows as he watched the girl’s retreating figure, confused by the interaction he just had.

Well, he thought, at least that’s the end of that. However, as Daryl gathered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, he inwardly groaned at the sound of the little girl’s voice calling out to him.

“Mistah! Mama here!”

Daryl turned and looked at two approaching figures. The young girl was holding a woman’s hand, leading the woman over to him. The woman was laughing lightly, allowing herself to be pulled by the little girl.

“Come, Mama!” the little girl giggled, excitedly tugging your hand harder.

“Okay, okay! No need to rip my hand off,” you laughed, soon coming to a stop in front of Daryl.

Daryl looked at you with a frown, scowling slightly. His eyes darted between the excited little girl and you, slightly taken aback by the friendliness you radiated. Despite everything he had done for the community up until that point, only a few select Alexandrians—mainly Aaron and Eric—didn’t show him any contempt or wariness. Yet there you were, smiling up at him and looking as pretty as a picture.

“Mama,” the little girl excitedly told him, pointing up to you. She smiled at you, dimples forming on her chubby cheeks.

Well, the kid certainly knew how to follow orders. He had told her to go get her mama, and there you were.

“I'm Y/N. You must be Daryl?” You introduced yourself, extending your hand for a handshake.

Daryl looked at your hand, not moving to take it. However, just as you were about to lower your hand awkwardly at his dismissal, the little girl stepped forward.

“Like this, mistah,” she instructed, taking the archer’s hand and putting it in yours.

Daryl flinched at the contact and quickly withdrew his hand, looking at the little girl with a small frown. He looked back at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

This was the worst random social situation he’d ever been in.

“Sorry,” you apologized, giving him a sheepish smile before turning back to your daughter. “Hazel, we don’t touch people unless they say we can, alright?”

“Sorry, Mama,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly, not fully understanding what you were saying. She turned back to look at Daryl. “Sorry, Dar.”

“Daryl,” the archer corrected her with a gruff tone of voice, talking for the first time since you had approached him.

Hazel looked up at him in confusion. “Dar,” she repeated herself, a look of concentration on her face.

“No, ‘s—nevermind. Forget it,” Daryl grumbled, shifting his weight from his one leg to the other. He looked back to you again and noticed how awkward you looked, your lips pursed as you avoided his eyes.

“Sorry. She has trouble with pronouncing some words and names. I’m working on helping her with that,” you explained, your body language exuding a challenging aura, as if daring him to insult your daughter for something as miniscule as not being able to pronounce a name.

Daryl noticed the defensive tone in your voice and noticed your defensive stature, making him raise his eyebrows questioningly, yet he refrained from questioning why. “S’alrigh’,” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his crossbow that was slung over his shoulder.

“Okay,” you said, gathering Hazel up into your arms. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to get going. I have to get this gremlin ready for dinner. Sorry for bothering you.”

With that, you turned around and retreated back towards the houses, Hazel happily babbling in your arms. Daryl watched your retreating figure with a sense of uneasiness. In that short interaction, he found himself unexplainably drawn to you. He didn't know you, but some part of him wanted to get to know you.

However, as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he just as quickly disregarded it. He didn’t need to get attached to any more people, especially people who couldn’t protect themselves in this harsh world they were forced to live in. In the end, everyone he cared about died or left, so it was better to spare himself the inevitable pain and keep you and your daughter at an arm’s length.

Something told him that it would be easier said than done, however.

The next morning, Daryl found himself working alongside Aaron. The two of them were busy carrying large pieces of metal to the wall they were busy fortifying, Aaron making casual small talk while Daryl simply hummed in acknowledgement. Once the last piece of metal was added to the already existing pile, the two men wiped the sweat from their foreheads and took a drink of water, before walking over to Aaron’s house. Aaron took a seat on the porch steps while Daryl remained standing on the grass.

“So yeah, that’s how I met Eric,” Aaron told him, concluding his long and winded tale.

“Story straight out a damn romance novel,” Daryl replied sarcastically, eliciting a laugh from Aaron.

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of it all you want. Everyone always does.”

“Nah, s’a good story. Pretty cliche with the whole spillin’ yer coffee on his shirt bit, but s’still a good story,” Daryl reassured him. “Now c’mon, didn’t ya say somethin’ ‘bout havin’ a part for my bike?”

“Dar!”

As if materializing out of thin air, Hazel excitedly bounded down the porch steps of Aaron’s home and threw herself against Daryl, clinging to his leg in a hug. Caught off guard, Daryl stumbled a bit but quickly regained his footing, his eyes darting down to look at Hazel. His eyebrows raised in surprise before he gently pried the girl from his legs, not used to any kid other than his little Asskicker clinging to him like that.

“Kid, what are ya doin’?” he questioned, taking a step back from her, but it was to no avail. Hazel simply smiled up at him before throwing herself at him again, clinging to his leg like a koala bear.

Aaron chuckled. “I see you’ve met Hazel. She’s quite the character, huh?”

“What’s she even doin’ here?”

“Eric asked to babysit her. He loves having her over, and her mom said yes.”

Hazel giggled against Daryl’s leg, turning her head to look at Aaron. “Hi, Rin!”

“Hey, Hazel,” Aaron chuckled fondly, sending the girl a small wave.

“Rin?” Daryl questioned, placing one of his big hands on the little girl’s head, accepting his fate of being clung to for the time being.

“She can’t say my name properly,” Aaron explained. “She has trouble with pronouncing things sometimes.”

“Yeah, her mama said somethin’ ‘bout that,” Daryl said without really thinking about it.

“So you’ve met her?” Aaron asked, leaning forward with slight interest. He had a small smirk on his face, one that Daryl couldn’t quite decipher.

“Briefly. Hazel practically dragged her over to meet me yesterday,” Daryl replied, looking down at Hazel when he felt her grip loosen on his leg.

Hazel looked up at him and raised her arms, looking at him expectantly. “Upsies,” she said, jumping slightly on her toes. “Dar, upsies!”

To his complete and utter surprise, Daryl found himself leaning down to pick her up. The act hadn’t even fully registered in his brain until the small girl was already in his arms, her small, chubby hands gripping at his shirt as she giggled. The small sound of her laughter made the archer’s heart fill with a sudden and unexpected fondness, completely taking him by surprise. It was the same type of fondness that filled his heart whenever he coaxed a laugh from little Judith, and yet it was completely different at the same time. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“She seems to like you, Daryl,” Aaron laughed, standing up from his position on the porch steps. “Not a lot of people can say that about her.”

“What do ya mean?” Daryl found himself questioning, confused entirely by the man’s revelation. From the limited interactions that the archer has had with the young girl up until that point, he naturally assumed that Hazel was that way with everyone. What would make him special enough to the little girl, who had just met him, to make her treat him differently than she would others?

Aaron motioned for Daryl to follow him into the house, and he obliged, silently entering the pristine house while still carrying Hazel in his arms. The girl took a great interest in his hair, playing with it to entertain herself.

“From what Y/N told us, she was with a group before she got here who treated her and Hazel horribly, and Hazel hasn’t fully regained her trust in adults yet,” Aaron explained.

Daryl frowned. “Badly, how?”

“She wouldn’t say, but it took forever for Eric and I to gain Hazel’s trust. We even tried to bribe her with candy but she wouldn’t budge. But she seems to trust you and you said you only met her yesterday?”

“Yeah. She approached me at that makeshift park the kids play at,” Daryl nodded, rubbing a hand over Hazel’s small back subconsciously, shifting her in his arms slightly.

“Then you’re definitely special, buddy. This kid doesn’t trust easily,” Aaron declared, sitting down on a chair in the dining room.

Daryl followed his lead, taking a seat across from him on a chair while still holding the small girl firmly in his arms. Hazel’s attention shifted from his hair to the loose threads on his sleeveless shirt, playing with them to keep herself occupied.

“They were with a group ‘fore this? How long have they been here?” Daryl questioned, interested in knowing more about you, although he didn’t know why.

“Yeah. Hazel and her mom haven’t been here all that long. I actually found them a couple of days, maybe a week, before I found you all. From what I know, Y/N and Hazel had been on their own for a while before I found them. Y/N almost killed me the first time we met. She thought I was gonna hurt them. It took me and Eric a while to convince her to come back with us, but even then she refused to let her guard down. She was kind of like Rick when we first met, except she didn't tie me up or force me to eat apple sauce.”

Daryl hummed, hissing slightly when he felt Hazel tug at his hair rather harshly. He brought one of his hands up to pry her hand away from his hair, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over her small fist. “That hurts,” he told her softly, surprising himself by the gentleness of his usually gruff voice.

“Sorry, Dar,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly. She yawned before laying her head down on his shoulder. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Daryl felt his heart swell with fondness for the second time that day. He gently rubbed her back. From his experience with Judith, that small action could lull a small child into slumber, and he hoped that proved to be correct with Hazel.

“You’re good at that,” Aaron commented, a smile on his face as he watched that small interaction between the big, ‘scary’ man and the small, innocent child.

Daryl looked at him, confused by the look the man was sending him. “Good at what?” he inquired, genuinely curious.

“That,” Aaron repeated himself, motioning to Hazel. “Were you a dad before all of this?”

Daryl stiffened at the question. “Nah,” he shook his head, adjusting Hazel in his arms again. “Not the type’a guy who could’ve started a family back then.”

“And now?” Aaron asked, unaware of Daryl’s inner turmoil.

Daryl inhaled sharply. “To start a family, ya need a partner,” Daryl started, slightly rocking the small girl in his arms. “I ain’t got a partner, and there ain’t exactly women linin’ up to be with me, so kids ain’t somethin’ I see in my future.”

“It could still happen, you know? You might meet someone. Hell, you know what? I know you’ll meet someone.”

“A lot of confidence for somethin’ that most likely won’t ever happen,” Daryl grumbled.

“Never say never, Daryl,” Aaron replied, giving the man a small smirk. “Never say never.”

“Mama! Mama!” Hazel called through the house, excitement evident in her voice.

You smiled at the sound of your daughter’s voice, glad to be able to see her again after a whole day of being alone in your small house. The sun was setting, the stars starting to twinkle in the sky and you were almost done with dinner. Eric had told you that he would bring Hazel back before sunset and you were starting to get worried, but thankfully she seemed to be okay.

You walked into the living room and hunched down to pick up the small girl that ran into your arms, hugging her tightly to you as you placed kisses all over her face. She giggled at the sensation and pulled back, grabbing your hand and excitedly pointing towards the door.

“Mama, Dar here,” she said, smiling widely before turning towards the door.

You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with the archer. You stood up and gave him an awkward smile, painfully aware of the awkward encounter you had with the man the day before. Daryl seemed to mirror your unease; he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, ducking his head to avoid your gaze.

“I see that, Sweetheart,” you replied, keeping your eyes locked on the man before you.

“I played with Rin and Eric. Dar played too!” Hazel happily exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement as she looked up at Daryl in awe.

“Did he, now?” you asked rhetorically, marvelling at the sudden and unexpected change of character for the quiet man. Just the day before, he had shrugged Hazel off and seemed to want nothing to do with her, yet now your daughter was claiming that the huntsman had spent time with her that day. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“Yeah! So fun!” Hazel laughed happily, waddling over to Daryl to seemingly hug his leg again.

Daryl, who had been hugged multiple times by the toddler that day, instinctively crouched down to have her hug his side instead of his leg. Hazel wrapped her small arms around him and nuzzled her head into his neck, and Daryl couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. One day had been more than enough for him to grow fond of the small girl, and he cursed himself for letting his guard down enough for that to happen, but the damage was already done; that little girl had already wormed her way into his heart.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” you smiled at her, watching the interaction between the archer and your baby girl. “Baby, why don't you go get changed into your blue PJ’s, huh? You're a big girl now, right? Think you can get changed without Mama’s help?”

“Yeah!” she exclaimed happily, pulling away from the hug and giving Daryl a smile, dimples on full display. “Bye, Dar!”

“Bye, Hazel,” Daryl greeted her quietly, watching the girl waddle to the stairs and begin to climb them carefully. He then hesitantly shifted his attention to you, but instead of seeing that wariness he’d grown accustomed to other parents giving him, one that he expected you to give him after his encounter with you the day before, there was a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” you thanked him, offering the archer a small smile.

Daryl ducked his head. “Ain’t nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head.

“So, you spent the day with her?” you started, looking at him questioningly. “By the way you looked uncomfortable around her yesterday, I figured you’d avoid her at all costs.”

“I was spendin’ the day helpin’ Aaron. He invited me to his place ‘cause he had a part I needed for my bike and Hazel was there. She wouldn’t let go of me after she saw me,” Daryl explained, fiddling with his hands.

“So she basically forced you into spending time with her?” you asked with a small laugh, your eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Pretty much,” Daryl joked, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile.

You laughed lightly and Daryl chuckled softly, admiring the way your eyes seemingly sparkled. The dim light of the living room gave you a golden glow, and Daryl found himself admiring your beauty. The unnerving thought struck him at full force and he tried to shake that thought from his mind—he couldn’t let his mind go there. He wouldn’t let his mind go there. He had to keep you at an arm’s length. It was bad enough that Hazel had broke through his barrier in one measly day, so he couldn’t allow her mom to do the same, too. More attachments definitely wasn’t something the archer needed.

“Well, Hazel seems happy. I think you’ve just became her best friend, whether you like it or not,” you told him playfully.

“I have a feeling that I ain’t got much say in the matter.

“Nope,” you laughed. “But thank you. She hasn’t looked that happy in a long time.”

“Glad I could help,” Daryl replied, a small smile on his face. “Sorry for bein’ a dick yesterday.”

“It’s fine. We shouldn't have bothered you.”

“Ya weren’t botherin’ me. I jus’... Weren’t in a good mood, s’all. M’sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” You gave him a sweet smile before turning around. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Daryl frowned in confusion but didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed until you reentered the living room, a lunchbox in your hand. You promptly handed it to him, and Daryl could feel the heat radiating off the bottom.

“What’s this?” he asked, giving you a questioning look.

“Stew. I made more than Hazel and I can finish, so I figured I’d give you some. And before you say anything, just take it. Consider it a thank you gift.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, resisting the urge to deny your ‘gift’. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all,” you reassured him, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart flutter uncontrollably.

Daryl ducked his head, willing the blush on his face to go away. “I should get goin’,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll walk you out,” you replied, making good of your promise by walking with him over to the door.

Daryl stepped out of your home and turned to you. He gave you a nod and turned to walk away, but stopped when he heard you speak up.

“I hope you realize that she isn’t gonna let you off the hook. You’re going to be stuck with her now. And my daughter and I are a package deal, so you’re going to be stuck with me, too.”

For some unknown reason, Daryl didn’t mind that thought at all.

“Easy, Hazelnut. Ya dun’ wanna hurt yerself, do ya?”

The toddler giggled, her small hands toying with the arrow in her hands. “Sorry, Dar.”

Daryl smiled at the small girl, bringing one of his hands up to ruffle her hair, successfully coaxing another laugh from her. “I know ya are. Jus’ try to be more careful, alright? I dun’ want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“No boo-boos. Boo-boos hurt,” Hazel replied, gingerly handing the arrow back to the archer.

“They do,” Daryl agreed, taking the arrow from the girl. “That’s why ya gotta be careful, alright? Dun’ want anythin’ to happen to someone as sweet as ya, Hazelnut.”

Hazel giggled and nodded. “No boo-boos.”

“No boo-boos,” Daryl repeated, smiling fondly at the young girl.

Two months had passed since Daryl had initially met you and Hazel. In those two months, Daryl had found himself becoming intertwined with your lives, a constant presence for you and your daughter.

The archer hadn’t asked you what had happened to Hazel’s father yet, and he wondered when he could be permitted to ask something as personal as that. However, Daryl knew that there could only be two plausible explanations; either he was dead, or he willingly left. The huntsman really hoped it wasn’t the latter. No person should be left to raise a kid on their own.

However, as Daryl’s love for the young girl grew, so did his feelings for you. It got to the point where he had started wishing that he was Hazel’s dad, that he could’ve been there during your pregnancy and watched your belly grow. He would’ve worshipped your body and been there for you every step of the way. However, as much as he wanted that, that was a dream that couldn’t be a reality, so he settled on being Hazel's best friend instead. At least it meant being able to both bond with the little girl and simultaneously have an excuse to see you.

“The two of you look like you’re having fun. Mind if I join?”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and his heart skipped a beat, that sweet smile of yours making butterflies swarm around in his stomach.

“Mama!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hurrying down the porch steps to fling herself into your arms.

You laughed, picking her up and placing a kiss on her forehead. You looked at Daryl and sent him a smile. “Hey, Daryl.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, fiddling with the arrow in his hands.

“Mama, play with us!” Hazel giggled, wiggling in your arms to be put down.

You lowered her to the ground, watching her climb up the porch steps and clamber into Daryl’s lap. Daryl lowered the arrow and wrapped his arms around her, placing a small kiss to the side of her head. You smiled at the interaction, your heart speeding up against your will.

“I know what I just said, but I actually can’t, Baby. It’s time to go home. It’s dinner time,” you told her.

Hazel frowned and nuzzled her head into Daryl’s neck, a whimper building up in her throat. Instinctively, Daryl started rocking her back and forth, rubbing her small back and shushing her quietly.

“S’alright, dun’ cry. Ya will see me again tomorrow, alright?” he whispered into her ear, his heart breaking at the sound of her sniffles. When he felt her nod, he placed one final kiss to the side of her head before placing her back down. “Why dun’ ya go say bye to Jude?”

Hazel looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. “Go ahead, Baby. I’ll wait for you.”

Hazel ran into the house, leaving you and Daryl alone on the porch. The archer stood up and walked down to meet you on the grass, pushing his hands into his pockets as he looked at you through his hair. As you looked at him, it took all of your willpower to resist the urge to brush his hair out of his face and cup his cheek. Not trusting your own hands, you crossed your arms and looked up at the huntsman, giving him a small smile.

“This is the first time ya’ve come to pick her up. I usually bring her home. S’somethin’ wrong?” Daryl inquired, searching your eyes for an answer.

You shook your head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just figured that I could come pick her up for a change. Spare you the walk back to my place.”

“It ain’t that far,” Daryl pointed out, motioning down the street. “Jus’ a couple’a houses down.”

“Yeah, I know, but...” you trailed off, unsure if you should lay your problems onto him.

“But what?” he questioned, suddenly on edge. Had you changed your mind about him? About him being around you and your daughter? He really hoped not.

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s nothing. Just some moms around the community who like to be judgy.”

“What are they sayin’?”

“That I'm a bad mom for not taking the time out of my day to pick up my own daughter. That I’m dumping my responsibilities onto other people. Just thought I’d start proving them wrong.”

“Hey, yer not a bad mom. I like bringin’ Hazel home at the end of the day. That way I know she’s safe.” He also liked it because it meant he got to see you being all domestic, hugging your daughter tightly and sending him beautiful smiles, inviting him to stay for dinner each time. He always declined, not wanting to be a burden, but your offer never waned.

You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Daryl instantly noticed it and placed one of his hands on your shoulder, taking you by surprise. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and your skin flushed where he touched you.

“Dun’ let ‘em convince ya that yer a bad mom. I ain’t never seen a better mom than ya. How many moms here can say that they kept their kid alive out there in the real world? That, despite everythin’, their kid came first and that they would kill for them?”

“How did you know I wasn’t here from the start?”

“Aaron told me he that found ya and Hazel on yer own not too long before he found us. The fact that ya kept her alive on yer own for that long proves to me that yer the best fuckin’ mom under the sun.”

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his that was still resting on your shoulder. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“No problem,” he replied, holding eye contact with you. His hand lingered on your shoulder for longer than necessary, and he gazed deep into your eyes.

Your heart sped up and stopped beating at the same time, noticing a shift in the archer’s emotions. However, before either of you could do anything else, Daryl snapped out of it and withdrew his hand, taking a step back.

You cleared your throat and ducked your head, your face heating up. Luckily, Hazel ran out at that moment and bounded down the stairs, throwing herself into Daryl’s side and clinging to his leg.

“Bye, Dar!”

Daryl pressed Hazel tightly to him. “Bye, Hazelnut.”

Hazel unwound her arms from around him and moved over to you, extending her arms to be picked up. You did just that, holding her tightly to you. You turned to Daryl and offered him a small smile.

“You know, my offer still stands. You could join us for dinner.”

Daryl was about to decline your offer again, but Hazel cut him off.

“Yes! Please, Dar!”

In that moment, Daryl found that he wouldn’t be able to say no this time around. He just would’t be able to. He gave you both a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

You smiled broadly. “Great! Come on, then.”

“Dun’ I need to change?”

“No, you’re fine, don’t worry. You can come as is.”

“Alright,” Daryl nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Could you maybe get Hazel settled into her highchair? I’ll be right out with the food.”

Daryl nodded and watched you retreat from the dining room into the kitchen before turning around. “Hazelnut!” he called, hearing the toddler’s footsteps come into the dining room.

Hazel stared up at the archer with a huge smile, her arms extended to be picked up. Daryl smiled softly at the girl and leaned down to pick her up, placing her in her highchair. Once he was sure that she was settled and wouldn’t fall out, he got settled in the chair next to her, listening to Hazel’s happy babbling.

Soon enough, you reentered the dining room with a pot of spaghetti and meatballs. The aroma of the meal made Daryl’s mouth practically water. The last time he’d eaten spaghetti was when Aaron had invited him, and that was a good couple of months ago at that point.

“It smells fuckin’ good,” Daryl complimented you without really thinking about his choice of words, and he instantly regretted not thinking about them beforehand.

“Fuck,” Hazel repeated happily, completely oblivious to the horrified look that spread over Daryl’s face, or the amused one that spread over yours.

“Nah, Hazelnut, dun’ say that. Dun’ ever say that,” he told her hurriedly, his heart beating faster at his mistake.

“Fuck,” Hazel giggled.

“No, I jus’ said—” Daryl started, shooting you a worried look. However, he calmed down when he saw your amused smile. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” you told him, laughing lightly while serving everyone some food. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not gonna bite your head off because of one little slip up. If I had a penny for every time I accidentally slipped up since she was born, I would’ve had enough money to be able to buy a yacht in the old world. You’re good, don’t worry.

“Okay, but we can’t have her goin’ ‘round sayin’ that, though,” Daryl replied, taking a deep breath to calm himself. You weren’t mad. Everything was fine.

“You’re right about that,” you started, turning to look at Hazel. “Baby, you can’t say fuck, okay? That word belongs to Daryl. Until he’s ready to share that word, you can’t say it, alright?”

“Okay, Mama,” Hazel replied, starting to eat her food rather messily.

Daryl chuckled softly at the girl before turning to his own food. He started eating as well, the flavours of the delicious meal melting on his tongue. He wanted to gulp it all down but he resisted the urge, instead eating with a delicacy he never knew existed in him.

The meal was mostly spent in silence, save for Hazel’s happy babbling and the occasional input from you or Daryl. Daryl did, however, sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking, admiring your beauty and the soft, loving, tender way you acknowledged your daughter and the tenderness you used when you wiped her face clean of the sauce.

Unbeknownst to the archer, you had also been sneaking glances at him. Admiring his gentleness with your daughter, the way his eyes softened and the quiet chuckles he would let out whenever Hazel did something amusing, or the small smiles he would send in your direction. It was amazing how important Daryl had become to you and Hazel in a span of a few months. The big, gruff, quiet man with a heart of gold, who had invaded your thoughts and your heart. It was both terrifying and thrilling to think about.

Your respective meals were soon finished. and Hazel’s eyes were beginning to droop. You noticed it and got up to take her out of her highchair. She instantly laid her head down onto your shoulder and closed her eyes, and you placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“You tired, Baby?” you cooed, rubbing her back gently. When she simply responded by nuzzling her face deeper into your shoulder, you laughed fondly and turned to Daryl, sending him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should probably get this little rascal to bed. You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”

However, as soon as you said that, Hazel interjected. “Dar tuck me in with Mama?” she asked innocently, lifting her head up to look at Daryl.

Daryl looked surprised. He locked eyes with you, his heart fluttering at the smile you sent him.

“If Daryl’s okay with it,” you whispered, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Daryl replied, nodding his head.

You motioned for him to follow you upstairs, and he obliged. Together, the two of you descended up the stairs and into Hazel’s bedroom. Daryl stopped in the doorway, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but you had other ideas. You gently took his hand and led him into the room, only letting go of it to tuck your daughter into bed. Daryl subconsciously placed his hand on your shoulder instead, watching place your little girl into bed.

Hazel was already half asleep when you put her into her bed. She instantly curled up into her pillow and let out a big sigh, her eyes opening only slightly. In her view, she saw you, her mom, the woman who always protected her when the two of you were living on the road outside the walls, and always loved her despite her shenanigans. And Daryl, the man who at first had been kind of mean, but was now always there for both her and her mom. The man who undeniably had started to feel like a daddy to her.

“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” Hazel mumbled, her eyes closing and she drifted into slumber. In seconds, she was out cold.

Time froze for a moment. Daryl’s eyes widened and his heart practically pounded out of his chest. There was no way that he had heard it right. There was no way that Hazel had just called him dad. There was no way that Hazel trusted and loved him enough to see him as her father. She couldn’t, could she?

He turned to look at you and noticed the unreadable expression on your face. You didn’t address what she had just said, however, and Daryl was too nervous to bring it up himself.

“We should probably let her sleep,” you whispered to him, motioning towards the door.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed and followed you out the door.

Together, the two of you descended down the stairs and back into the dining room. You turned to look at Daryl and motioned towards the living room.

“You can wait in the living room. I just wanna put the dishes in the sink and then I’ll join you.”

“Nah, let me help,” Daryl protested, moving over to grab all the dishes. Before you could protest, Daryl walked into the kitchen. You quickly followed behind him and watched him put the dishes in the sink, but before he could start washing them, you quickly stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll wash them tomorrow,” you assured him. “Do you want some wine?”

Daryl nodded and hummed, silently observing as you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, as well as a bottle of wine. You placed the glasses on the counter before popping the the bottle open, pouring the two of you each a glass of wine. You handed him the glass and propped yourself onto the counter, letting your legs swing below you.

Daryl leaned against the counter and took a sip of his wine, humming in approval at the taste. “S’good. Thanks.”

“It’s nothing, really. I've been wanting a reason to open the bottle for a while now.”

“Ya can’t jus’ drink it whenever ya want?” Daryl questioned, taking another sip from the glass in his hand.

“I could, but I prefer not to. I don’t want to be like—” you started, but abruptly stopped. You hurriedly took a sip of your wine, welcoming the taste in your mouth.

“Like who?” Daryl asked, frowning at the uncomfortable look on your face.

You hesitated for a long moment, not sure if you should tell Daryl about your past problems. You were afraid that Daryl would look at you differently if you revealed anything. However, as you looked into his eyes, you only saw care and concern, so you found yourself confiding in him.

“Hazel’s father,” you revealed, pursing your lips at the thought of the man you hated more than anything in the world.

“What was he like?” Daryl asked, placing his glass down on the counter. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes trailing over your face for any shift in emotion.

“He was a fucking asshole,” you spat angrily, clenching your jaw in anger. “He was a raging alcoholic and a frequent drug user. He didn’t even stop when Hazel was born. If anything, it got worse. I tried so hard to get him sober, but nothing worked. He always yelled at me and threatened to hurt Hazel whenever I brought it up, but I stayed. I was too scared to leave. And then one day, when I woke up, he was just... Gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. Hazel was barely one year old.”

Daryl frowned deeply, anger bubbling inside him at the thought of someone hurting you and Hazel so badly. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had no right to get angry. That wasn’t something that happened to him.

“Not too long after that, the world went to shit. His sister came to pick us up and took us to her camp, and that’s where I saw that asshole again. He treated Hazel so badly and got the other people in the camp to taunt and be mean to her. Hazel didn’t even do anything wrong, and I never even brought up the fact that she was his kid, but they all ganged up on her. Thankfully it never got physical, but I could tell that it really scarred her. It went on until the camp got overrun, and all of those fuckers got what they deserved. The only reason Hazel and I got out was because his sister helped us. She sacrificed herself for us. After that, Hazel and I were on our own for more than a year. I’m surprised that I managed to keep us alive for that long on my own, but I managed. And then Aaron and Eric found us, and the rest is history.”

Daryl was speechless. It angered him that someone would hurt you like that, would hurt little Hazel like that. And the fact that you had to survive on your own for that long... It amazed him. He wished that he could’ve found you earlier and have protected you and Hazel from all those horrors, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. He could only ensure that nothing ever touched you in the future.

“Yer a strong woman. The fact that ya went through all’a that and managed to keep Hazel alive and love her unconditionally proves that. Yer amazing and I hope ya know that.”

You were taken aback by the sudden confession, but a smile soon spread across your face. You hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, almost chest to chest. You looked up at him, your faces close enough to close the remaining distance between your lips. You didn’t even fully know why you did that. It was more than likely liquid courage, you figured.

“You’re amazing too. I don’t think you realize how much you mean to Hazel, how much you mean to me.”

With that, you closed the remaining distance between your lips. You pressed your lips against his softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. After a moment of shock, Daryl kissed you back feverishly, pulling you closer by your hips to have you flush against his body. You gasped against his lips, allowing Daryl to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth and pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan from the man.

As soon as you pulled away for air, you tugged Daryl by the lapel of his vest. “Wanna take this to my room?” you whispered, breathless from the ravenous kiss.

“What ‘bout Hazelnut? Won’t she wake up?” Daryl asked, pressing his forehead against yours.

“No. She’s out cold. The chances of her waking up are basically nonexistent.”

Daryl let out a deep breath and nodded, allowing you to pull him up the stairs. The two of you soon stumbled into your room, hurriedly closing the door and pawing at each other’s clothes. However, when you reached for Daryl’s shirt, he stopped you, a pained look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a worried look on your face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, ya didn’t do nothin’.”

“Then what’s wrong?” you asked him, gently cupping his cheek in your hand. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t judge.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. “I didn’t have a good childhood,” was all he offered before slowly removing his shirt.

Your eyes hungrily trailed over his body, your hands reaching forward to press against his chest. Sure, a few scars littered his chest, but they didn’t repulse you. You didn’t understand what Daryl was talking about until you got a glimpse of his back in the mirror in your room. The scars on his back were jagged and raised, and you instantly knew what they meant; someone had hurt this perfect man before you, and you felt so angry.

You walked behind him. “May I?” you whispered, your hands hovering over his back.

Daryl hesitantly nodded. You softly ran your fingers over his scars, your touch feathery light. The archer shivered involuntarily, closing his eyes at the feeling. Before meeting you, the only feeling that he ever associated with his back was pain from his father’s cruelty, yet there you were, tracing over his scars as if they were priceless paintings in a museum.

Soon your fingers were replaced with your lips, and Daryl’s eyes flew open. Your lips softly kissed over his scars, trailing down to the lowest scars on his lower back. When you were done, you turned him around to face you. You gently cupped his cheek, a small smile on your face.

“You're perfect to me, Daryl. You’re so sweet, kind and caring. Hell, my daughter called you dad. That says plenty.”

“M’perfect?”

“You're perfect.”

That was all you had to say for Daryl to pull you into another fiery kiss. The two of you soon toppled onto your bed, spending a night filled with passion together.

That next morning when Hazel woke up and walked into your room, she was pleasantly surprised to find Daryl sleeping there, holding you, her mama. She was, however, confused that when she woke the two of you up, you clutched the sheets to your bodies and refused to let her climb under them with you like you normally would do.

Two years later...

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Hazel. Happy birthday to you!”

You and Daryl cheered as Hazel blew out the candles on her homemade cake. Hazel laughed as she struggled to blow out the last one of the five candles on the cake, eliciting soft chuckles from you and Daryl. When she finally managed to extinguish it, you and Daryl each handed her a gift. She clapped her hands excitedly. She got up from her seat and ran to hug you and Daryl, which you both returned.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Daddy,” she thanked with a big smile, eyeing the wrapped gifts on the table.

“Dun’ thank us yet, Hazelnut,” Daryl responded with a smile. “Go ahead and open ‘em.”

Hazel hurriedly opened each of the gifts and gasped with delight, holding up a colouring book, new crayons, and a new doll. She giggled in excitement at the gifts. “Can I go show these to Judith? We can colour and play dolls together now!”

You laughed and nodded. “Sure, Baby. Just be good for Auntie Michonne and Uncle Rick, okay?”

“Okay!” she agreed and took off in a run, throwing the front door open and disappearing out of it.

“I can’t believe she’s growin’ up so fast,” Daryl mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I know, right? She’ll be moving away from home for college soon enough,” you joked.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, chuckling at your joke.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, turning around in the archer's arms. “I got something for you, too.”

“For me?” he asked in confusion, frowning slightly. “Why? It ain’t my birthday for another couple’a months.”

“I know, but this can’t wait that long. Here,” you told him, handing him a small box.

Daryl gingerly took the box from your hands and opened it. His eyes widened at the item inside, picking it up and looking at it. After examining it for a couple of moments, he confirmed that his mind indeed wasn’t playing a trick on him—it was a positive pregnancy test.

“Yer—Yer pregnant?” he asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding your head. A laugh escaped you when Daryl picked you up and spun you around, before he placed you back on the ground and pulled you into a kiss.

When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Hazelnut’s gon’ have a baby sibling. We’re gon’ have another kid.”

“We are,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “I love you, Daryl.”

Daryl placed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I love ya, too. And I already love that lil’ peanut in yer belly.”

“Hazelnut and Peanut, huh?”

“Yeah. Our two babies. Our own lil’ family,” Daryl told you wistfully, placing his hand on your stomach, over the life that was growing there.

“We have Hazel to thank for this. If she didn’t instantly like you back then, this might never have happened,” you told him, placing your hand over his.

“Remind me to thank her when she gets back later. But for now, let’s enjoy our alone time,” Daryl replied suggestively, tugging you with him as he walked backwards towards the stairs.

“I like that idea.”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Feathers✨

Hey hey hey, I’m back! Took a tiny break but I had another idea for a spicy Luci scenario! But this one is super tender cuz Luci needs some TLC like nobody's business! 🥺

This turned out a little more dom!reader then initially planned but I'm happy about it

Big thank you to some of the anons I received for the ideas! I very much appreciate everyone who's given anything I've written their love!

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer's wings are not in the greatest shape, you offer to help clean them...

Warnings: 18+, smut, handjob, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, cockwarming, dom!reader and sub!lucifer if you squint

It had been a pretty quiet day in house. Lucifer was off with his daughter Charlie for the day, they’ve had quite a bit of father/daughter bonding to catch up on. But this gave you the chance to work on something that you’ve been wanting to make for some time now. It was a secret project, keeping things from Lucifer was harder than it seemed. But with the home to yourself, you were finally able to finish the gift you wanted to give him! Just as you were admiring your work, a portal opened up behind you; Lucifer was back! Quickly, you hid his gift under your pillow before he could see anything. Lucifer stepped through the portal and into your bedroom; you noticed his wings spread out behind him.

“Hi, honey,” you greeted as you walked over to him, planting a small peck on his forehead. He smiled, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it in return. “How was your day with Charlie?”

“It was really nice! We went for a little flight, as you can tell,” he laughed, gesturing to his wings. Lucifer’s wings always left you in awe, you couldn’t help but stare at them. But upon further inspection, you saw that they seemed a little worse for wear. You wondered when the last time they were properly taken care of, since you've never seen him actually do anything with them.

“Hey Luci, your wings are looking a little…” you hesitated, looking for the right word, “disheveled. Is everything alright?”

"Ahh," Lucifer sighed, "yeah, I uhh...I'll admit, I haven't paid them much attention. Not in a long while."

You knew that he had been by himself for a long time before you came along. He had mentioned his battles with self isolation and depression that he had fought against for years, but he was never too keen on going into more detail than necessary. Looking back, it would make sense as to why his wings are in the state that they are. It saddened you, you wished you could have been there for him. It was time to make up for that.

"How about this," you proposed, "why don't I run us a bath and I'll help you clean them up. How does that sound?"

"O-Oh, are you sure?," he questioned, failing to hide the fact that his cheeks were now flushed. "They're kind of a pain, I don't want you to-" you cut off his protests with a peck. You felt his lips curl into a smile.

"Nothing's a pain when it comes to you, Lucifer," you assured. "Go get ready and I'll see you in a few minutes, alright? Tonight, let me take care of you."

"Of course," he grinned, "thank you, my angel."

*** Lucifer saw you smile and make your way to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom. As soon as the door closed, he let out a long sigh. It really had been years since he’s taken care of his wings. It was a lot easier when there was someone there to help. When Lilith left, it became a much more daunting task. He began to undo his button up shirt, tossing it onto the bed and moved on to undoing his belt. But suddenly, he stopped once the buckle had been unhooked. Shit, he thought to himself, realizing he’d forgotten how sensitive his wings were, my wings being touched are drive me insane! I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together, especially not after years of just letting them go! He sucked in a few deep breaths and continued removing the belt from his pants. It’s fine, it’s fine…as long as I don’t make a noise or turn around. Just focus, Lucifer. For Satan’s sake, you’re the king of Hell!

Lucifer undid his zipper, letting his pants and boxers drop to the floor and kicking them off to the side. Unfortunately, he could already feel the blood rushing between his legs in anticipation. No, no, no!, he scolded himself, we’re not doing this. We’re getting our wings washed and we’re going to bed! I’m not letting this turn into anything other than a nice bath! She CANNOT think I’m just some touch starved pervert! I’m not! He inhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to calm down. After a minute, he made his way to the bathroom, placing his hand on the knob.

“I’m so fucked,” he whispered to himself before slowly opening the door.

*** It was fortunate that Lucifer had such a spacious home, that meant a more spacious bathroom as well. His bathtub could easily fit four people comfortably, but this at least gave you room to be able to work with his wings. You turned the water on to a nice warm temperature, making sure it wasn't too hot. You undressed as the bathtub began to fill, grabbing a soft washcloth from the closet and bubble bath soap after discarding your clothes. Once the tub was half full, you poured the soap in, letting it mix with the running water. The bubbles appeared fast, you couldn't see that water anymore after a few seconds. Finally, you brought the flow to a stop and dipped your toes in to test that waters. Perfect. You stepped in and slowly began to sink down into the warm liquid that heated your core. Lucky for you, his tub had seats along the sides so you could sit comfortably instead of sinking to the bottom! As soon as you were submerged just below your shoulders, you heard the bathroom door creaking behind you.

"Knock, knock!," Lucifer joked, hitting the already opened door with his knuckles. You chuckled as he closed the door behind him. Not that it was a new sight to you, but his naked figure never ceased to make you blush, as if he were perfectly sculpted. You shook your head, trying your best to focus on his face and not let your eyes wander anywhere else.

"Alright, let's see what we're working with," you stated, prompting Lucifer to conjure his wings once more. As you looked them over, you could tell it would take a little bit of time to clean them properly, but you were more than willing to help. You shifted over to the edge of the tub and offered Lucifer your hand. Smiling, he took hold as you guided him into the water with you. He sat down next you, turning his back so you could start working on his neglected feathers.

"Thank you for this," he spoke softly as you took the washcloth and began to work on his first set of wings. "I really don't deserve it, or you..."

"Luci, don't say that," you cut in, "I love you, and I want to help you. I'll always be here, I promise."

You heard him hum in response. He had a lot more feathers than you originally thought. You wanted to take your time, combing through every feather from his first set as they were the largest. You moved your attention down to his second set of wings after a few minutes. You were both quiet for a while as you continued your ministrations, running the washcloth thoroughly through each of his feathers, ridding them of any dirt. However, the sound of Lucifer's breathing becoming heavier with each passing minute did not go unnoticed by you. Wings were very sensitive areas after all. A tiny smile crept on your face. You had finally moved on to his last set of wings. They would be the easiest to take care of since they were the smallest, but you wanted to test your suspicions before you finished.

"Almost done," you hummed, "you doing alright?"

"YEAH, yeah," Lucifer answered almost too loudly, "I-I'm fine."

"That's good," you responded, gripping his feathers with just a little bit more force than necessary. You heard a small whimper escape Lucifer's throat, his hand shooting out of the water to cover his mouth. Bingo. "You sure you're alright, hon?"

"M-Mhmm," Lucifer mumbled into his palm.

"All clean," you purred, causing Lucifer's wings to disappear in a flash.

Lucifer stood up a little too fast trying to exit the tub, his back still towards you. "Thank you love, I really really appreciate you doing that for me, but I'm kind of tired so I'm gonna-" You didn't let him finish his sentence, grabbing onto his hips and pulling him into your lap, causing a large splash. "D-Darling, what are you doing?"

"And where do you think you're going?" you questioned, letting your hands run down his hips and towards his thighs. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as your hands roamed dangerously close to his hard on. "What's the matter, baby? Were you hoping I wouldn't notice that you were getting turned on by all my touching? How cute."

You let your hand wander until you finally gripped his hardened cock. Lucifer could only let out a strangled yelp. All too pleased, you began to stroke his cock at an agonizingly slow pace. Lucifer tried to buck up at your touch, but your other arm was wrapped around his abdomen, keeping him flush to your chest. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Now why would you try to hide this from me, Luci?,” you teased him as you began peppering kisses along the back of his neck.

“Hhng…I-I’m sorry, love,” he swallowed, “it…shit…it’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t h-have had that reaction while you were…ffffuuucckk…” He completely trailed off, only being able to focus on your movements. You had only picked up your pace slightly since you started, you wanted to make this last as long as possible. But unfortunately, you could feel your own arousal start to pulse between your legs. Without warning, you let go off his cock, causing to Lucifer to whimper at the loss of your hand. You swiftly stood up and hooked your arm under his legs, carrying him bridal style out of the tub. He looked up at you with a mixture of shock and arousal. Once you were fully out of the tub, you placed him onto the white marble floor.

"Stay," you commanded. Lucifer held his arms down at his sides, completely immobile. You sauntered over to the rack and grabbed the two fresh towels hanging there. After opening the bathroom door, you dried off your soaking body as quickly as you could before making your way back over to Lucifer with the other towel in hand. You patted his hair down first, then moved to his face and shoulders, working it down to his chest and stomach. You avoided touching the area he needed you to touch the most and finally finished by drying off his legs. "Get ready," you told him as you stood up straight once more. Before he could respond, you scooped him up in your arms again with the towel placed underneath him. You couldn't help but smile down at him once you say how flushed his face had gotten. You effortlessly carried your lover into the bedroom and placed him down on the edge of the bed. You took the towel and placed it on the floor, giving your knees some much needed cushion from the hard wooden floor.

"Sweetheart, p-please," Lucifer said, finally finding his voice again, "you don't have to-" You gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, cutting him off mid-sentence. He could only yelp in response.

"I told you that I would take care of you tonight, did I not?" you replied with a coy smile. "That's exactly what I intend to do."

You lowered your head and gently pressed your lips to the head of his cock which was already covered in precum. Your tongue circled the tip, causing Lucifer to grip the sheets beneath him, not being able to focus on anything else. You relaxed your jaw, forcing your mouth down onto his shaft as far as you could manage. You didn't want to choke, after all! You absolutely adored the sounds leaving Lucifer's lips, desperate moaning and incoherent babbling. You quickened your pace, your hot mouth leaving trails of saliva down your hand. You felt Lucifer's legs begin to shake.

"L-Love," he choked out, "if you don't stop, I'm g-gonna...FUCK!" You didn't stop bobbing your head up and down. If anything, it only made you work faster. You felt his hands reach out to your shoulders, seemingly trying to push you away, but he wasn't trying very hard if that was the case. You refused to budge. "OHFUCKME," was the last thing he could mutter before his orgasm hit him, spilling his hot seed into your mouth. It was salty, but not unpleasant. You kept your mouth firmly on his cock as he rode out his high. You felt him soften in your mouth and you finally removed yourself from him with a *pop*. You caught some of his cum on your finger that had leaked from your mouth, licking it clean. Lucifer caught you doing so and buried his face in his hands.

“You’re going to kill me one of these days, darling,” he mumbled.

You chuckled, pulling his hands away to see his bright yellow eyes staring back at you. “I don’t think I have that kind of power!"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Lucifer sighed, "my wings are very...sensitive to say the least. I completely forgot about it until it was too late. I thought I could tough it out, but umm, that's clearly not what ended up happening. I didn't want you to think I was some maniac who couldn't control himself..."

You brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly with your thumb. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. " You don't have to apologize to me, Luci, it's alright," you comforted. "Besides, seeing you so worked up is extremely hot!"

"Pfft!" Lucifer laughed, picking up on your attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, I'm glad you think so! I was dying the entire time in there!"

You smiled at him and got up from your kneeled position." Do you feel better now? Got it all out of your system?”

"Not quite," he breathed.

As if to take revenge from your stunt from earlier, Lucifer grabbed you by the hips and pulled you on top of him. "HEY!," you protested, but it was already too late; your cunt that's been aching for attention was now perfectly hovered over Lucifer's maniacal grin. Without warning, he pulled your legs down towards him and began to lick up your folds vigorously. His tongue attacking your clit with every lap he took. Your arms gave out almost immediately, forcing you onto your elbows to keep yourself propped up while the dirtiest moans filled the room. "Fuck...Fuck Luci, you feel s-so good...SHIT!," you cried out. His forked tongue worked at your sensitive nub relentlessly, causing the pit in your stomach to tighten. You weren't going to last much longer at this rate, he was too good and he knew it. Every time he ate you out, he always acted like a starving man who would never taste you again. It only took a few more nibbles at your clit before your walls spasmed uncontrollably, cumming hard against his tongue. He hummed in approval as he helped you ride out your orgasm, swallowing every drop of you. You managed to crawl away from him and plopped chest down on your mattress.

"You're insatiable, aren't you, Lucifer?," you teased, still trying to catch your breath.

"And you're irresistible, aren't you, my angel?" Lucifer joked back. He sat up straight against the pillows next to where your head laid. You couldn't help but notice that he was rock hard again. It filled you with pride to know just how much tasting you on his lips could illicit such a response. A thought popped into your head at that moment, your lips forming into a devious smile. You weren't going to let him have the last word. He was done for.

You pushed yourself up from your prone position and straddled Lucifer's lap, leaning down and crashing your lips into his. He moaned into your kiss, licking across your bottom lip, almost like he was begging you for access. You opened your mouth wide and felt his tongue slip past your lips, deepening your kiss. To his dismay, you pulled away from him, panting and breathless. You lined up your entrance with his cock, sinking down onto him in one quick motion. Both of you moaned at the sensation, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. Lucifer eagerly started to buck his hips into you, but you had other plans. You let the rest of your upper body weight fall onto his hips, rendering him immobile.

"Wh-what are you doing?," Lucifer whined as he tried desperately to rut up into you to no avail. "Please...please, need to move...."

You adored him in this state, begging and pleading for you to let him chase his release. "Teaching you a lesson," you grinned, shifting your hips every so slightly and making him bury his head into the crook of your neck.

"PLEASE! Please, I'll do anything!" Lucifer begged, his breathing becoming more and more labored. "Whatever you want!"

"I want you to promise me something, Luci," you cooed, placing your hand under his chin and lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Promise me that you'll come to me if you need help from now on. And in return, I'll promise you that I'll always be there whenever you need me. Do we have a deal?"

Tears welled up in his eyes at your words and the lack of stimulation. He buried his head into your chest, wrapping his arms around you. "YesyesyesIpromiseIpromiseIwill," he sobbed. You smiled and kissed the top of his head, his blond hair brushing against your face.

"That's my good boy," you praised. You decided to end his torment by lifting your hips and slamming back down on his cock at a break neck pace. His wanton moans went straight to your core, you knew another orgasm was fast approaching. He bucked his hips up into you, his cock hitting your G spot just right with every thrust.

"So close...sososoclose," Lucifer whimpered in your ear.

"L-Let go, baby," you choked out in your cock drunken state, "c-cum in me, Luci, pleasepleasePLEASE!"

Lucifer leaned down and bit into your shoulder, muffling his cries as it only took him a few more thrusts before spilling his seed into you. His bite pushed you over the edge as well, pulsating around his leaking cock. You both took a minute to come down from your highs, neither of you wanting to pull apart. At last, you pulled yourself up and out of Lucifer's lap and completely collapsed next to him. You reached over the edge of the bed and picked up the towel from earlier, handing it to Lucifer so he could clean himself up. You were about to fall asleep when you remembered something important.

"OH!," you shouted, startling Lucifer a little bit. "I almost forgot! I made you something!" You reached under your pillow where you had hid his gift from earlier. You pulled out a small duckling keychain with the words "My Little Duckling" beneath it. You passed it to Lucifer who cupped it in his hands, staring at it like it was made of diamonds.

"You...you made this...for me?," he stammered, completely enamored with his present. He clenched his fist around it and held it up to his heart. "I...I love it so much, darling! This is the best gift I've ever received! I'll cherish this forever! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He pulled you in for the tightest hug he's ever given you while peppering small kisses all over your face. You giggled and managed to capture his lips before he could get another peck in.

"I'm really happy you like it," you smiled. "We'll figure out where you can hang it in the morning, yeah?"

"I'd love nothing more, my dear" Lucifer grinned. "But for now, let's get some sleep, shall we."

You nodded and yawned in agreement. You shifted yourself flush against Lucifer's chest, letting his arms wrap around you. You felt his tail wrap around you leg right before you lost consciousness, letting you know he would never let you go.

~~~~

IT'S FUCKING DONE BABY, LET'S GOOOOOOOO

[lacroixqueen]

sparks fly - deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool has been stalking reader who works at a diner. he ends up hatching a diabolical plan to get reader's attention

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 1.3k

Wade knew he was obsessed with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. 

It was a dark, rainy night in the city, and you were closing shift at the diner. You liked closing shift. Especially on weeknights like this when it was generally pretty quiet. You were placing dirty plates and utensils into the bus tub when you heard what you swore to be shattering dishes from the back of the kitchen. 

Your back stiffened as you peered over your shoulder to the shadowy, unlit part of the restaurant. 

“Hello..?” you called out carefully. 

Silence.

You carried on with your tasks for the remainder of the evening, unsure exactly of what you heard but too terrified to investigate. 

He was already watching you this entire time. He admired the subtle curve of your waist. How your apron tied around your hips in an adorable little bow. The way your thigh-high stockings dug ever so slightly into your skin. 

He knew that sneaking into this rinky dink little dinner to spy on some random girl he found somewhat attractive off of a split second impression was.. reckless to say the least. But recklessness has never stopped him before. 

Wade stationed himself next to the dishwasher, staying still as a statue until you turned around the corner.

“Boo,” he said without so much as a care in the world.

You screamed, of course, and instinctively threw your entire tray of plates at him. “What the fuck!”

“What the fuck is right!” he answered gleefully, effortlessly brushing the completely filled bus tub to the side, not even flinching as even more silverware crashed into the ground. “And you are actually in big trouble! Like biiiiig trouble. This entire diner, and probably all the buildings around it are going to be incinerated within the next.. 5 minutes? So if I were you, I would leave everything behind and follow me while you still have the chance.”

You watched as the diabolical man in what you could only describe as some sort of BDSM gimp suit pantomimed every single word that came out of his month with a bravado of a world renowned circus performer. 

“And.. who are you exactly?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest and raising your eyebrow. 

“Deadpool. Spelled like dead and pool,” he replied confidently, sticking his hand out.

“Uh huh,” you said, allowing him to shake your limp wrist. In your mind you were calculating the fastest way to reach the store phone to dial 9-11. “What a.. pleasure.”

“So.. you are coming with me,” he established. “As in, I am going to take you away from this building. Because it is about to blow up. There is a bomb some psycho what’s his face planted in the basement and you are way too pretty to die this young, so I am just going to have to rescue you right here right now.”

“You- what?” you stammered out, but before you could even muster another word, the mercenary had already swept you off your feet bridal style. “Hey! Put me down. Right now.”

“Yeah, sorry that’s not really gonna be an option sweetheart,” Wade snapped back with a wit as sharp as a knife. “Oh, and look at the time! Only one more minute left.”

And with those words, he quickly darted out the back door of the diner into a dingy alleyway. You reflexively wrapped your arms around his neck, taking note of how sturdy his arms felt underneath your legs. 

“Whatever you do,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “Don’t. Drop me.” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Wade chirped as he scurried down the avenue, maneuvering around a sharp corner. “You’re precious cargo, and besides, the whole point of this entire stunt was-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you heard a loud “boom”, now realizing you were miles away from the diner you were just at. You felt the ground shake under Wade’s feet, and a gust of warm wind blowing from the explosion site. 

You gazed over Deadpool’s shoulder, and gasped as you watched the distant part of the city being engulfed in flames. 

“You.. you saved my life..” you murmured. “H-how did you even..”

“Well, if I were to lie, and we all know I am very good at that,” the assassin began. “I would say it was sort of a right place right time sort of situation. As in I was just innocently strolling around the block when I noticed a big bad evil villain, aka my arch nemesis plant a little, let’s just call it grenade downstairs. So, I, being the upstanding citizen that I am, decided to walk right in and save the day. Yay! Let’s just go with that.”

“And if you were to be honest?” you challenged, untangling yourself from his arms and stepping down onto the sidewalk. You realized since you were in a slightly calmer state of mind, and actually standing face-to-face to him under the streetlight, that he was literally towering over you by at least a head. 

“Hmm, you got me there princess,” he capitulated. “If I were being real, I would say the part about me being in the right place at the right time was true.”

“Go on,” you chided, beginning to rub the middle of your forehead. You could already feel that this was not about to end well.

“Buuuuut, you were just too cute. I really had no idea how to approach you. So, the most logical conclusion was to throw a wrench into the sink, or should I say a bomb into your diner, and time it perfectly so I could sneak in, pull you aside, and er, get you outta there? And here we are. Ta-daaaa!” he embellished the ending of the entire debacle with jazz hands, as if he was telling a casual story to a group of friends. 

“You.. are unbelievable!” you shouted, pushing him against his chest, and not really causing enough force to have him step back. “What kind of sick, twisted joke is this?!” You threw a punch against him with every single word. “You really thought this would be the way to get my attention? Instead of, oh, I don’t know, just coming up to me and striking up a conversation like a normal fucking person?”

“Cute, very cute. Adorable,” Deadpool commented as he watched you attempt to hurt him, almost as if he were observing an unfamiliar specimen in the wild. “God, you are so cute.”

“That’s all you have to say?!” you cried. “After blowing up part of the city? You are a psychopath.”

“Eh, not even wrong,” he shrugged. “Nowadays I even take that as a compliment.”

“I-I’m gonna call the police!” you ultimately decided, whipping out your cell phone from your back pocket. 

“Oh, no no no I would not do that,” Wade said, effortlessly grabbing the device from your hand and texting his phone before you could notice. “Just.. they aren’t a big fan. Of me.”

“You think?!” you seethed. “God. You are insane. You know that?” You stood up on your tippy toes, trying to take your phone back. 

Wade eventually relented, motioning to hand it back to you before you snatched it out of his hand. 

“And never speak to me again,” you shot back at him as you walked in the opposite direction. 

“So does that mean I can pick you up at 7 tomorrow?” the assassin called after you. “I know a really nice place downtown.. er, wait that might have been blown up.”

You stormed off without another word, self-assured that this would be the last you would ever see of him. But you were sorely mistaken. 

[timedhoney]

Giving wonwoo hickeys would change my life. Straddling that tiny waist, leaning down as you bury your face into his warm neck. You watch as he squirms against you when your eyelashes brush along his blushed skin.

“Hi,” you murmur smoothly into his ear, just to feel his breath hitch in that gorgeous chest of his.

"Hi," he responds and you selfishly have to kiss those plump lips before you get back to the task at hand. Ok, maybe you have to slide in a little tongue too. You're not perfect. You love feeling how he reacts beneath you, love to feel how those large hands grip deeply into your thighs when you suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You know it drives him wild, and you wiggle your hips in satisfaction against the tent growing in his jeans.

God, what a man. How he manages to make an outfit with no more than a white shirt and pants have you to the point of drooling all over him, you have no idea. But when he walked into the door of your apartment, you immediately had to shove him onto your couch, pull his zipper halfway down, and then throw your legs over his. He looks picturesque in the way you've strewn him about, hair ruffled and jeans sliding down just enough to show a hit of muscle that makes you feel unholy things.

All that can wait though, because the spot just behind his ear is calling to you. You press your mouth there first before losing control and taking the tiniest nip just to watch the color flood up from his chest to his cheeks. What a beautiful gradient.

"You make it too easy, you know?" You say, smiling down at him as he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, still flushed that cherry red. "One little bite and your'e going to act like this?" He nods shockingly fast, tipping his glasses down his nose with the action. You press them back up with your own nose, winking as you turn back to where you were. No distractions this time.

The noises that leave him always make it worth it. You take no prisoners when you pull at his skin, leaving obscene pops in your wake. You alternate between bites and licks, sucking and nipping. Only once you find the spot that creates the most delicious moan do you stop journeying, pressing your hips tightly into his. Feeling the heat start to radiate further off of him. Tasting the salt off his skin. Letting him writhe against you as you smile into the bite.

You look beneath you to admire your work.

"You're so lucky that I make pretty hickeys," you tell him smugly. And it's true, but maybe it's just that everything suits him. Beautiful blooms in varying shades of red and purple litter the left side of his neck. He groans as he slaps a hand over it.

"Ugh, did you have to go asymmetrical? It's going to be impossible to cover the one behind my ear with a turtleneck...." You laugh as you finally finish pulling down his zipper.

"I know you can't be mad when I just heard how you were behaving." He flips you onto your back on the couch and lifts up your shirt, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

"Mine are going to be prettier than yours," is his only reply as he leans down to leave open mouthed kisses to your tits before he begins rival your bruises with his own.

"I love when you get competitive," you sigh dreamily.

[a-lexia11]

Jealousy,Pink hair,More Jealousy (Meet in Barcelona part 3)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Warning: very angsty and fluffy

Word counts: around 11k

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

The following day at work, Alba was relentless in her attempts to pry information out of me about what happened between me and her sister. It all started because I accidentally let it slip that I had spent the night at Alexia's place.

Even though I kept insisting that nothing significant happened, Alba wouldn't let it go.

She kept teasing me with playful remarks and insinuations, making it nearly impossible for me to focus on my tasks.

I tried multiple times to divert the conversation to other topics, but Alba was determined, and her persistence made it a challenging day at work.

At the end of the day, as we were making our way to our cars in the parking lot, I received a text from Alexia asking how my day had been.

Alba, being the nosy person she is, glanced over at my phone to see who had texted me.

As soon as she saw it was her sister, she quickly snatched the phone from my hand. “Alba!” I shouted, feeling a mix of frustration and surprise.

She didn't waste a second; she sprinted towards her car with a mischievous grin, got inside, and immediately locked the doors.

I could see her laughing through the window as she held my phone hostage, leaving me standing there, both annoyed and amused by her antics.

“Alba!” I screamed, hitting the window of her car in frustration. “Alba! Puta, dame mi teléfono.” (Alba! You bitch, give me my phone!)

She just gave me the finger and stuck her tongue out, clearly enjoying her little victory.

From my perspective outside the car, I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it seemed like she was scrolling through my text messages.

Alexia and I had been texting non-stop since I left her house on Sunday.

Our conversations were always filled with endless texts and phone calls, talking about everything and anything under the sun.

Alba finally unlocked her car, and I wasted no time in opening the door, hitting her on the head, and snatching my phone back with a swift motion.

She looked at me with a mocking smile.

“Has estado enviando muchos mensajes de texto” (You’ve been texting a lot) she said sarcastically.

“¡No me envías tantos mensajes a mí!” (You don’t text me that much!) she continued, pretending to be offended.

“Sí, porque eres una tonta” (Yes, because you’re a bitch) I retorted, glaring at her.

She just laughed at me, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Por cierto, ¿espero que no hayas olvidado que el cumpleaños de Bianca es mañana?” (By the way, I hope you didn't forget that Bianca's birthday is tomorrow?) she reminded me completely changing conversation.

“¡Oh, es verdad! Totalmente lo olvidé. No estoy seguro de si podré ir; tenemos mucho trabajo que terminar antes de las vacaciones de verano.” (Oh yes! That's right, I completely forgot. I'm not sure if I can make it; we have a lot of work to finish before summer vacation) I explained,feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts of all the tasks ahead.

“¡Vamos, por favor! Nos vamos a divertir, y Alexia también estará allí.” (Oh, come on, please! We're going to have fun, and Alexia will be there to) she said, wriggling her eyebrows playfully.

I didn’t realize Alexia would be there. Even though I saw her just yesterday morning, I miss her and would love to see her again.

I pretended to mull it over, furrowing my brow and glancing into the distance, so she wouldn’t guess that my real reason for going is to see Alexia.

I tried to sound hesitant, saying, “Bueno, tal vez pueda hacer un esfuerzo“ (Well, maybe I can make an effort) while inside, I was already looking forward to the chance to see Alexia again.

With a joyful cheer, Alba clapped her hands and planted a warm kiss on my cheek. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she exclaimed, “¡Vamos a divertirnos mucho juntos! ¡Te lo prometo, va a ser increíble!” (We're going to have so much fun together! I promise you, it's going to be amazing!)

“¡Estoy segura de que nos divertiremos mucho, pero tengo que irme ahora; tengo mucho trabajo que hacer y tú también!” (I’m sure we will have tons of fun but I have to go now; I have a lot of work to do and you do too! ) I told her kissing her cheeks goodbye and reminding her of her work.

“Adios nena! Hasta mañana” (Bye, babe, see you tomorrow) she said as she buckled her seatbelt with a slight smile. “Adios,Albita” (Goodbye, Albita) I replied, turning to walk away with a casual wave.

Suddenly, I heard her shout, “No me llames así,Puta” (Don't call me that!Bitch) Her voice was filled with a mix of frustration and playfulness.

Without turning around, I simply raised my hand and gave her the middle finger, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.

——

That evening, after enjoying a delicious dinner and meticulously cleaning up my apartment, I settled comfortably on my couch to correct some of the kids' assignments.

Just as I was getting into the rhythm of my work, my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call from Alexia.

I picked up the phone, and Alexia's familiar face appeared on my screen, her smile instantly lifting my spirits. “Hola guapa,” she greeted warmly, her voice filled with affection. “Hola Ale,” I responded, feeling a sense of comfort.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” (What are you doing?) she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she looked at me through the screen. “Estoy corrigiendo algunos trabajos de los niños, ¿y tú?” (I’m correcting some of the kids’ work and you) I replied, eager to hear about her day and share a bit of mine.

She turned the camera around to show me she was watching a football match. The crowd was roaring in the background. She then turned the camera back to her face and smiled mischievously at me.

“You know you can watch something other than football,” I informed her with a smile. “No, gracias” she replied firmly, and I rolled my eyes at her, amused by her stubbornness.

“Alba said that you’re coming to the restaurant for Bianca’s birthday tomorrow” she said with a hint of excitement in her voice. “Yes, I am” I replied, glancing up from the papers I was correcting.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go together. I can pick you up at your apartment around 8, and we can go together” she asked, her tone hopeful. “Yes, I’d love that” I responded, smiling at her.

After that, I asked her how she was feeling about the upcoming Champions League final. I knew that last year's final did not go well, and Alexia was devastated by that loss.

She had been so hopeful, and the defeat really took a toll on her. However, this year seemed different. She was pretty confident, having seen the team’s progress and improvements.

Yet, I could still sense a bit of nervousness in her voice, a lingering anxiety about what might happen.

“I really hope you guys win just because I want to see you with pink hair” I told her, and she laughed.

We spent hours on the phone, discussing everything and anything until it was time to sleep. I nestled into bed, wrapping myself in the duvet, mirroring Alexia's movements.

“Buenas noches, guapa. Hasta mañana” (good night, beautiful.See you tomorrow) she softly uttered, sending virtual kisses through the phone.

“Good night, Alexia” I reciprocated. Her smile lingered in my mind as the call ended, and I peacefully drifted off to sleep shortly after.

——

The next day, after wrapping up another busy day at work, I found myself back at my apartment, preparing for Bianca’s birthday celebration at a cozy restaurant.

Alexia texted me, saying she’d arrive in five minutes, so I took the opportunity to perfect my makeup just a bit more.

When I received the text that Alexia had arrived, I quickly grabbed my bag and headed out of my apartment. As soon as I stepped into the parking lot, I immediately spotted Alexia’s car.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, still deeply engrossed in her phone, so I decided it would be the perfect moment to give her a little scare.

Silently, I made my way around the car, moving as quietly as possible until I reached her window. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, I started knocking on it frantically.

Alexia looked up at me with wide eyes, as if she had just seen a ghost. She jumped in her seat, her phone nearly slipping from her grasp, and clutched her hand over her heart in shock.

Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and for a moment, she was completely frozen, staring at me in utter disbelief.

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at her reaction. Still chuckling, I walked around the car, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat beside her, my laughter echoing in the confined space of the car.

“Eres tontissima,”(you’re so stupid) she said, still looking at me horrified and slapping my thigh.

“Hi, Ale,” I told her, still laughing a little and leaning over the console to kiss her cheek. I felt her warm skin against my lips and the familiar scent of her perfume filled the air.

She smiled a bit at me, her eyes still shining with a mix of surprise and amusement, and greeted me back. With a fluid motion, she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, her hands steady on the wheel.

While she was focusing on the road, I couldn’t help but admire her. She looked so beautiful under the soft evening light streaming through the windows.

She was wearing a simple white crop top that accentuated her figure and a pink and orange skirt.

Her hoop earrings sparkled with every ray of sunlight that touched them, adding a touch of elegance to her simple yet incredibly attractive look.

——

When we arrived at the restaurant, Alexia and I exited the car.

I waited as she retrieved her purse from the backseat, then she walked over and put an arm around my shoulder. “Vamos” (Let's go) she said, guiding me to the entrance.

We spotted our friends at the table and went over to greet them one by one. I knew everyone except one person. Alba introduced him to me; his name was Marcus, and he was also American.

Alexia and I took seats across from each other, and I ended up next to Marcus. He was very friendly and chatty, telling me how glad he was to finally talk with another American.

For most of the dinner, I ended up conversing with Marcus. Being at the end of the table and with him next to me, I didn't have much of a choice, especially since he was talking... A LOT.

I didn't mind because he was very sweet and funny.

When I glanced over at Alexia, she seemed unhappy, frowning and staring at her plate.

I gently nudged her leg to get her attention. When she looked up, I smiled at her, trying to lift her spirits, but she just looked away.

What’s wrong with her?

I decided to leave her alone, thinking she might be socially exhausted.

After we finished the cake, Alexia excused herself to go to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I excused myself and followed her.

The bathroom was empty, and Alexia was at the sink, washing her hands. I approached her.

“Alexia, estás bien” (Alexia, are you okay?) I asked, trying to place my hand on her shoulder but she stepped back to grab some paper and dry her hands.

“Estoy bien” (I'm fine) she murmured without looking at me. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?” I insisted.

“No, te dije que estoy bien” (No, I told you I'm fine) she said, about to leave the bathroom, but I blocked her path and stood in front of her, putting my hand on her chest to stop her.

“Tell me what's going on” I insisted once more. “Oh Dios mío, no pasa nada, puedes volver a hablar con él.” (Oh my God, nothing's wrong, you can go talk to him again) she said, looking at me with anger.

I looked at her confused. “Marcus?” I asked. “Sí, vuelve con él” (Yes, go back to him) she replied.

I looked at her for a few seconds before realizing. “Estás celosa” (You're jealous) I pointed out. “No, no lo estoy” (No, I'm not) she replied scoffing.

“Yes, you're jealous, you have no right to be jealous, Alexia.You told me you didn't want me” I reminded her.

“Nunca dije que no te quería, dije que no quería una relación.” (I never said I didn't want you, I said I didn't want a relationship) she corrected.

“It's the same thing, Alexia” I replied, staring at her. “No, no lo es, I want you” (no it’s not) she murmured, looking into my eyes.

“Look, Alexia, we're not together, so you have no right to be angry and jealous over someone else” I explained.

“Lo se” (I know) she murmured softly and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

“I want to be with you, but I can't because-”

I interrupted her before she could finish.

“Yes, I know, because of your job, but it's a shit excuse, Alexia. If you really want to be with someone, you wouldn't let anything come between you and that person” I told her. “And I understand you want to focus on your career, but who said you can't have both, a career and someone to love?” I continued.

She didn't say anything ,she just stared at me and then after a few minutes slowly leaned down towards me, her face getting closer to mine.

I didn't move closer, even though I wanted to, I wanted her to do the first move.

She gently brushed her nose against mine, and I closed my eyes.

But just as she was about to kiss me, an elderly lady entered the bathroom, and we quickly moved away from each other.

Thanks a lot grandma…

“Let's go back with the others” she said, taking my hand before kissing me on the forehead and leading me back to our friends.

Returning to our table, Alba gave me a strange look, and I just shrugged at her.

For the rest of the night, Alexia and I didn't talk, and I did everything I could to avoid making eye contact with her.

——

At the end of the evening, everyone exchanged farewells. While hugging Alba, she sensed something was off and asked me about it. I promised to explain later.

Alexia and I got back into her car, and the drive home was filled with silence. When we pulled into my apartment's parking lot, I unbuckled my seatbelt and mumbled a thank you and good night. Just as I was about to leave, she grabbed my arm.

“Espera”(wait) she said. I turned to face her as she shifted in her seat, letting go of my arm.

“Lo siento” (sorry) she began. “No debería haber actuado como lo hice en el restaurante.” Tenías razón; estaba celosa.(I shouldn't have acted the way I did at the restaurant. You were right; I was jealous) she confessed, taking my hand and fiddling with my fingers without looking at me.

“I'm sorry too” I replied. “I shouldn't have told you how to live your life. You have every right to not want a relationship right now” I added, intertwining our fingers.

“No estoy segura de lo que quiero en este momento, pero una cosa que sí sé es que te quiero a ti” (I'm not sure what I want right now, but one thing that I do know is that I want you) she said softly.

“Te quiero tanto, tengo todos esos sentimientos por ti, pero no lo sé, supongo que solo necesito tiempo para entenderlo.” (I want you so much,I have all those feelings for you but I don’t know, I just need time to figure it out I guess) she continued looking at me straight in the eyes.

“I want you too,Alexia and it's okay, take your time. We can go slow if that's what you need” I suggested.

“I can't ask you to wait for me” she said, placing her other hand on my cheek and gently stroking it.

I leaned into her touch. “You're not asking. I want to” I assured her, kissing her palm.

She smiled gently and leaned in, kissing me on the cheek, close to my lips.

She pulled back, and I smiled, giving her an eskimo kiss, which made her laugh.

We said our goodbyes with kisses on each other's cheeks and a long, warm hug.

——

Later, as I lay in bed, I received a text from her.

La Reina 👸: buenas noches, nena.Dulces sueños. I promise you that I will try and figure out what I want as soon as possible.(goodnight. Sweet dreams)

I smiled at her message, sent her some heart emojis, and wished her sweet dreams too.

——

The week flew by, as usual, I went to work. I shared with Alba what happened with her sister and how we agreed to take things slowly. She was thrilled and kept teasing me about it.

I also informed my friends and parents about it since I tell them literally everything. My mom was ecstatic, constantly asking about Alexia, while my dad mentioned watching some of her matches.

Alexia and I grew closer too. Despite the challenge of not seeing each other much during the week, we managed to spend quality time together. When apart, we would text or video call each other.

Alexia has become incredibly affectionate with me lately. She's always finding ways to touch me, whether it's a gentle hand on my arm or a playful nudge. She kisses my cheeks and forehead with such tenderness, and her hugs are warm and comforting. We spend a lot of time cuddling, and every moment feels special.

Honestly, I’m not complaining at all—I absolutely adore the attention and affection she showers on me.

Moreover, with Alexia, Alba, and some of our friends, we planned an exciting trip to Bali during the summer vacation. It's going to be an incredible getaway just before Alexia flies to Australia for the World Cup. We’ve been looking forward to exploring Bali’s beautiful beaches, vibrant culture, and delicious cuisine. I can’t wait for it – the relaxation, the adventures, and the quality time with friends. Vacation finally!

——

Currently, I was at Alexia's apartment preparing dinner while she was in the shower.

As I was stirring the sauce for the pasta, I felt two arms wrapping around my waist and a muscular front pressing against my back.

“Eso huele muy bien, nena” (That smells so good) Alexia whispered into my ear, kissing it softly.

I leaned back into her and kissed her cheek. “It’s almost ready, can you set the table?” I asked her.

She just nodded, placing another kiss on my cheek before letting go and setting the table.

“So the Champions League final is Saturday,” Alexia started as we were eating. “Yeah, I know,” I said, looking up at her.

“And it’s in the Netherlands,” she continued. “Yeah, I know that too,” I smiled amusingly at her.

“I want you to come to the final” she said, looking a little nervous. “Alba, mami, and my uncle are coming, and I want you to come too,” she continued.

“Really? Are you sure?” I asked her, surprised at her request. “Yes! You can be like my good luck charm,” she said, placing her hand on my thigh and caressing it.

“Good luck charm, huh? I mean, the last time I came to one of your matches, you lost,” I told her jokingly.

She laughed softly and slapped my thigh. “Please, come. I want you there” she practically pleaded.

“Sure, I’ll be there, Ale” I informed her, and she smiled at me and kissed my cheek.

——

On Tuesday night, I found myself bidding farewell to Alexia with a warm embrace as she was departing for the Netherlands on Wednesday, and I won't see her for 4 days, which, although not a long time for some, feels quite lengthy to me.

I departed from Spain on Friday night, after school ended, with Alba.Her mom and uncle had left already left on Thursday.

Upon landing at the airport, we took a taxi to our hotel. With no immediate plans until that evening, we decided to join Alexia's mom and uncle in exploring the city.

Naturally, I kept Alexia informed about our activities, and she updated me on her well-being and the team's activities.

After an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping, we returned to the hotel to freshen up. Sporting Alexia's shirt, we headed to the stadium.

The stadium wasn't very crowded yet, so we found our seats near the field and waited.

Eventually, the girls came out to inspect the field. I noticed Alexia; she was dressed in the Barca tracksuit and had her headphones on.

Eli called out her daughter’s name to catch her attention. Alexia turned around when she heard her mother’s voice and came over.

She gave each of us a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She talked with us for a bit, and it was clear she was getting more nervous as time went on.

“Can I talk to you?” she whispered in my ear.

“Yes, of course” I responded.

We excused ourselves from her family and found a little private space where there weren't many people. Immediately, Alexia pulled me into a tight hug.

“Te extrañé mucho” (I missed you so much) she said, burying her head in my neck.

“I missed you too, Ale. I'm so happy to see you” I mumbled, rubbing her back. “How do you feel?” I continued.

She pulled away slightly and she grabbed my hands and intertwined our fingers. “Un poco nerviosa” (A little nervous) she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

I moved closer to her. “It's okay, Ale. I'm sure you're going to be amazing” I reassured her.

She smiled gently at me and kissed my forehead. “I'm so happy that you came” she murmured against my skin.

I looked up at her and smiled, then kissed her cheek repeatedly making her giggled. “Some good luck kisses for you” I informed her.

“Muchas gracias, con todos esos besos no hay manera de que pierda.” (Thank you very much, with all those kisses there’s no way I’m losing) she said playfully.

Our moment was interrupted by Irene Paredes calling Alexia over, signaling that it was time for her and the team to get ready for warm-up.

“Te veré después del partido, cariño.” (I'll see you after the match) she said, placing one last lingering kiss on my forehead before accompanying me back to her family.

She said goodbye and hugged them warmly.

Once Alexia left, Alba looked at me teasingly. “Alexia está enamorada de Y/N.” (Alexia is in love with Y/N) she sang repeatedly, her voice dripping with playful mischief.

“A veces me pregunto por qué somos amigas; eres tan molesto.” (Sometimes I wonder why we're friends; you are so annoying) I said, pushing her away gently, though a small smile played on my lips.

Alba's teasing was relentless, but it was part of her charm.

Eli, ever the voice of reason, smiled gently at me and then turned to Alba. “Deja en paz a esa pobre chica, Alba, y metete de tus asuntos.” (Leave that poor girl alone, Alba, and mind your business) she said sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Eli's protective nature always made me feel supported.

“Lo siento,mami” (Sorry, mami) Alba said, looking dejected. I couldn't help but smirk a little at her.

“¡Gracias, Eli! Sabes que definitivamente eres mi Putellas favorita.” (Thank you, Eli. You know you're definitely my favorite Putellas) I told her, smiling warmly.

She returned the smile, her eyes twinkling with kindness. Eli had a way of making everyone feel special.

Alba just scoffed at that, rolling her eyes dramatically. I moved closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek softly.

“No te preocupes, Alba, siempre serás mi tonta favorita.” (Don't worry, Alba, you will always be my favorite idiot) I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Alba's playful nature was something I cherished, even if she drove me crazy sometimes.

Alba rolled her eyes again and took out her phone, scrolling through it with a huff.

“Eres imposible” (You're impossible) she muttered, but I could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Despite our constant banter, the bond between us was unbreakable.

——

When the match time arrived, the stadium was full and everyone was waiting for the teams to come out of the tunnel.

Alexia was starting on the bench and she looked focused and determined; this game was very important to her. I really hoped everything would go well.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go well. Wolfsburg was leading 2-0 by the end of the first half...

As the team headed back to the changing room for half-time, I’ve never felt so nervous for a match before.

The second half began, and finally, a goal! The excitement was palpable, and they had a chance to catch up.

Shortly after, another goal! Alba and I erupted into screams, jumping and hugging each other.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Barca scored yet another goal, sending everyone into a wild celebration.

After their heartbreaking loss last year, Barca now had a real shot at winning the Champions League a second time!

Towards the end of the match, Alexia came onto the field, greeted by roaring cheers. Alba and I screamed so loudly that I almost felt like I might throw up.

The final whistle blew, and cheers filled the air. Eli pulled Alba and me into a hug as we watched the Barca players rush onto the field, celebrating together.

After the celebrations and the trophy lift, the players joyfully made their way over to their families and friends, their faces glowing with triumph and excitement.

I spotted Alexia weaving through the crowd, her smile as radiant as ever. She first embraced her mom, holding her tightly as they shared a moment of pride. Next, she turned to Alba, giving her a warm and affectionate hug, followed by a heartfelt embrace with her uncle. Finally, she reached me.

As Alexia wrapped her arms around me, one hand resting gently behind my head and the other securely on my back, I leaned in and whispered, “Congratulations.”

She responded with a tender kiss on my cheek and softly said, “Gracias cariño” before stepping back, her eyes twinkling with happiness.

We spent a few more minutes chatting, sharing in the joy of the victory, before Alexia and the other players needed to head back to the changing room to freshen up and prepare for the evening's festivities.

Later that night, the entire team, along with some close friends and family members, gathered at a charming restaurant to celebrate their hard-earned victory.

The atmosphere was filled with laughter and cheer as everyone reminisced about the match. That night, I had the pleasure of meeting all of Alexia’s teammates, each one as kind and welcoming as she had described.

——

The following day in Barcelona, I found myself relaxing on my couch, casually swiping through Instagram. Alexia and her team decided to hit the clubs to revel in their triumph.

Although Alexia extended an invitation for me to join them, I politely declined, mindful of my upcoming work commitments on Monday and wanting to avoid any potential hangover or exhaustion.

While scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon various pictures and clips of the Barca team enjoying themselves at the club.

Among the pictures and videos, I noticed several featuring Alexia alongside a tall brunette and they seemed very close.

In one particular photo, Alexia had her arm wrapped around the brunette's waist, sharing a whispered moment, while the brunette reciprocated with a hand on Alexia's arm, sporting a broad smile.

A twinge of jealousy pricked at me. Despite knowing we aren't in a defined relationship, seeing Alexia in that intimate moment stirred emotions akin to what she might have felt when observing me with Marcus. It was a painful realization.

I tried not to rush to conclusions, acknowledging that the brunette could simply be a friend. Yet, my mind couldn't help but wander down paths of uncertainty.

My time with Alexia is cherished. She provides a sense of security, exudes humor, kindness, and perfection in my eyes. However, as I ponder our ambiguous dynamic, doubts begin to cloud my thoughts.

I know I said I'd wait, but I didn't realize just how difficult it would be. Seeing her with other girls hurts me more than I expected.

Maybe she doesn't want a relationship and just wants to have some fun? Everything is so confusing right now. I find myself questioning everything and wondering if I've been reading too much into our interactions.

Before I could spiral into overthinking, I decided to lock my phone and try to get some sleep. I knew I needed to clear my mind and give myself a break from all these swirling emotions.

——

The next morning, I woke up to a message from Alexia wishing me good night at 5 in the morning... so she must have partied hard all night long.

I went on with my day, did my morning routine, had breakfast, and went out to run some errands. Throughout the day, I received numerous texts from Alexia, and at one point, she even called me.

I decided not to respond to any of them , though. I felt a mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and confusion. I didn't want to say something I might regret later, so I thought it best to keep my distance for now.

I needed time to process everything and figure out how I truly felt.

I know I have no right to act the way I am right now because, for all I know, that girl could just be a friend or something, and Alexia and I aren't even together, so yeah... But the uncertainty and the hurt were too much for me to handle at the moment.

Later, like most Sunday, Alba came over to my apartment for coffee. She's always been a good listener and gives great advice. That's why I decided to ask her about the girl Alexia has been pictured with. I needed a friend's perspective to help me make sense of everything.

“¿Viste algunas de las fotos de las chicas en el club anoche?” (Hey, did you see some of the photos of the girls at the club last night?) I asked Alba, who was scrolling through her phone.

“Sí, parecían estar pasándola muy bien. ¡Qué noche tan loca debe haber sido!” (Yeah, they looked like they were having fun. What a crazy night that must have been) she commented with a smile.

“¿Sabes quién es la chica alta y morena que estaba con ellas?” (Do you know who the tall brunette with them is?) I inquired.

“¿Cuál morena?” (Which brunette?) she asked, confused.

I took my phone and showed her one of the many photos where this girl appeared. Alba looked closer and her eyes widened and she took my phone out of my hand to take a closer look.

“Que?” (What?) I asked. “¿La conoces?” (Do you know her?) I added curiously.

“Sí, la conozco. No sabía que había vuelto.” (Yeah, I know her. I didn't know she was back) she commented. “¿Por qué estaba ella allí con ellos? ¿Alexia la invitó?” (Why was she there with them? Did Alexia invite her?) she asked, intrigued.

“No lo sé, pero Alexia la conoce?” (I don't know, but Alexia knows her?) I said impatient. Alba seemed hesitant to tell me something, and I frowned, urging her to speak.

“Sí, esa es Marina, su exnovia.” (Yes, that's Marina, her ex-girlfriend) she murmured. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh," I simply said.

I felt nauseous. That's her ex-girlfriend. Her ex-girlfriend was partying with her and was really close to her. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to hold back my tears.

I asked Alba more questions, and the more I learned, the more my heart broke.

So, she was Alexia's ex-girlfriend, and they were together for almost 8 years! They started dating when they were 18 years old.

They broke up because Marina was moving to South America. That's the reason for their breakup, not because they didn't love each other anymore or had relationship problems, but because she was moving away.

And now that she's apparently back, will Alexia go back to her?

Alba gave me a sorrowful look with a gentle smile, and I quickly averted my gaze and changed the topic. If we kept talking about it, I would definitely start crying.

——

Over the next few days, I continued to avoid Alexia and her messages, either not replying or responding very briefly. Until I could no longer ignore her.

One evening, while I was making dinner, I heard a knock at the door. I went to open it, and there was Alexia, holding Nala in her arms.

“Hola” she greeted me with a sad smile. "Uh... hi," I responded, surprised to see her here.

“Can I come in?” she asked. Instead of answering, I just opened the door wider to let her in.

She walked in and set Nala down, and the little dog wandered off to the living room. I headed back to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? Or maybe you're hungry? I just finished dinner” I offered.

“No, thank you” she replied. “Podemos hablar?” (Can we talk?) she continued. I sighed, not really in the mood to have a conversation with her right now, but I nodded anyway.

She took a seat on the couch, and I sat next to her, leaving a noticeable gap between us.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked softly but directly. I looked at her. “No, I'm not” I answered. “Entonces, ¿por qué me estás evitando?” (Then why are you avoiding me) she asked more firmly.

“I'm not avoiding you” I lied. I didn't want to bring up the team party and how she probably spent the whole night with her ex-girlfriend.

"Yes, you are. No respondes a mis mensajes o llamadas, ya no vienes a mi apartamento. (You don't reply to my messages or calls, you don't come to my apartment anymore...) she trailed off, then moved closer and took my hand in hers. “Te extraño” (I miss you) she said softly.

I felt really guilty. This wasn't fair to her. I've been ignoring her out of jealousy. Probably nothing happened between her and her ex, and here I am hurting her without telling her why.

I moved closer to her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you. I'm just really tired, and work is also overwhelming. It's almost summer break, and we need to finish the entire school program before the holidays” I partially lied, I was indeed a little bit stressed about the entire school program thing.

I didn't want to bring up the ex-girlfriend issue. I trust her. I know Alexia; if she wanted to talk to me about it, she would have. So I won't bring up Marina. I'll let Alexia talk about her first if she feels she needs to.

Alexia wrapped her arm around my waist and gently rested her forehead against mine, whispering softly, “It’s okay, cariño. I know it can be stressful, but you can do it and think about the summer vacation! Two months without work or children and also we are going to Bali!”

I smiled gently, kissed the tip of her nose, and nuzzled my nose against hers. “I can’t wait for it” I replied. She pulled me into a warm hug, and I buried my face in her neck as she soothingly rubbed my back.

“Hey! You won the Champions League! So now you have to dye your hair pink” I playfully reminded her, pulling back slightly but staying close. She laughed, “I know cariño, one of Alba’s friends is coming to my apartment Saturday to dye my hair. Do you want to come too?”

“Yes! I want to be one of the first to see your new hair” I cheered.

In this moment, my mind found peace, though I carried the weight of not being fully honest about my actions.

Yet, for now, serenity enveloped us, at least for tonight.

——

After another eventful week at school, it was finally Saturday, and I was on my way to Alexia’s apartment.

Despite Alexia and I having discussed things the other day, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between us.

On my end, I found myself gradually distancing from her once again... The whole situation with Marina really got under my skin, more than I wanted to admit.

It was something I knew I shouldn't let affect me, but it did. Every time I thought about it, a pang of discomfort hit me, making it hard to act normal around Alexia.

And if Alexia noticed this change between us, she definitely didn't talk about it. She continued to act as if everything was normal, which only made things more confusing for me.

I wondered if she was genuinely unaware of the distance I was creating or if she was choosing to ignore it. Either way, it left me feeling even more isolated and unsure about where our friendship?? Relationship?? was headed.

Arriving at Alexia’s apartment, I parked my car and made my way to the building. I took the elevator up to her floor, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Once I stood in front of her door, I took a deep breath, knocked, and waited for her to answer. After a few seconds, the door opened, but to my surprise, it wasn’t Alexia standing there.

Instead, it was Marina—the woman who had made me question my "relationship" with Alexia. Seeing her there brought back a flood of emotions and doubts, leaving me momentarily speechless.

“Hola?” (Hello?) she said, sounding confused. “¿Puedo ayudarte en algo?” (Can I help you with something?) she asked, her eyes narrowing at me.

“Um... sí, hola... ¿Está Alexia aquí?” (Um... yes, hi... Is Alexia here?) I asked, my voice faltering slightly. What is she doing here?

“¿Ella sabe quién eres tú?” (Does she know who you are?) she asked, her tone sharp and her eyes scanning me with a hint of hostility.

“Sí. Soy su amigo. Escucha, ¿puedes simplemente llamarla? Ella misma te lo dirá.” (Yes, she does. I’m her friend. Listen, can you just call her? She’ll tell you herself) I said, glaring back at her.

“No puedo, ella está en la ducha.” (I can’t, she’s in the shower) she replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

What’s her problem?

“Tu-” (You—) I started, but then I heard my name being called from down the hall.

Alba. Thank goodness.

She approached us and looked at Marina. They exchanged glances, then suddenly began cheering and hugging each other tightly.

“¡Oh, Dios mío! ¡Te extrañé tanto!” (Oh my god! I missed you so much) Alba exclaimed, squeezing her even tighter.

I stood there awkwardly, my eyes wide. It seemed like they were the best of friends.

“Veo que ya has conocido a Y/N.” (I see you’ve met Y/N already) Alba said once they pulled away, wrapping an arm around me.

“Si ” she said, her previous hostility disappearing. “Pasen, pasen, chicas.” (Come in, come in, girls) she added, opening the door wider to let me and Alba enter the apartment.

I can't shake this terrible feeling about the whole situation. Everything just seems off, and I can't help but worry that something bad is going to happen.

As the three of us settled down at the kitchen table, a sense of being overlooked crept over me. Alba and Marina delved into their conversation, likely catching up on various matters.

I found myself seated beside Alba, with Marina positioned across from her.

The rapid-fire Catalan dialogue left me utterly perplexed, unable to grasp a single word...

A feeling of exclusion and displacement washed over me, contemplating turning to my phone yet refraining to avoid appearing impolite, opting instead to survey the room.

In a sudden moment, my eyes landed on an open suitcase near the couch. Please, let it not be Marina's. Could she possibly be staying here? With only one room available, and considering Alexia's hospitality, it seemed unlikely she'd have Marina sleep on the couch.

Did they share Alexia's bed?

Amidst my mind's tumultuous whirl, Alexia emerged from the shower. Catching sight of us at the kitchen table, a broad smile illuminated her face.

Approaching me, she leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, tenderly brushing my cheek, whispering a soft “hola cariño” , then proceeded to greet Alba in the same warm manner.

Alexia then sat next to Marina. “Y/N, supongo que ya la has conocido, pero esta es Marina, mi amiga” (Y/N, I guess you’ve already met her, but this is Marina, my friend) Alexia mentioned, gesturing towards Marina.

Sure, Alexia, just your friend. Why don’t you also mention that she is your ex and that you two dated for almost a decade? It’s like she’s skipping over the most crucial part.

I just smiled softly at Alexia without saying another word. Internally, I was a whirlwind of emotions. Alexia then informed us that Mario, Alba’s friend and hairdresser, would arrive a little later to dye her hair.

With Alexia here now, I thought I would feel less overlooked, but no… they immediately delved back into their old memories, sharing stories in Catalan, and showing each other pictures. I couldn’t understand a thing, which made me feel even more out of place.

I’m so tempted to leave right now. Why am I even here? It feels like I’m invisible, just an observer in their world. This was supposed to be an enjoyable visit, but it’s turning out to be anything but that.

I shouldn't feel this way, but it's hard not to. They clearly haven't seen each other for a long time, and I'm sure they were very close when she and Alexia were still together. Given that they haven't met up in three years, it's natural they want to catch up on everything that's happened.

However, it would be considerate if they could speak Spanish so I can understand and be part of the conversation. It feels a bit isolating not being able to follow along, especially when I want to be included and understand what's being discussed.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a gentle nudge on my feet. When I looked up, I saw Alexia with a concerned frown on her face.

In an attempt to reassure her, I offered a small, comforting smile but she does not look convinced.

She rose from her seat and walked over to me, taking my hands in hers with a firm but gentle grip, and helped me to my feet.

“Volveremos enseguida; vamos a mi habitación.” (We'll be right back; we're going to my room) Alexia announced to Alba and Marina.

She didn't wait for their response; instead, she led me towards her room, closing the door softly behind us as we entered.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me closer. “What's wrong? Are you okay? You’re very quiet” she asked, concern all over her face.

“I'm fine” I told her with a small smile, hoping to reassure her.

“Lately you’ve been acting really weird, you’re very distant” she pointed out, her eyes searching mine for answers.So she did noticed my behavior.

“I already told you, Alexia, it’s because of work. I’m stressed” I replied a bit harshly, instantly regretting my tone.

Seeing the hurt and concern on her face made me feel really bad. I shouldn’t have snapped at her; she didn’t deserve that.

I sighed and embraced her. Though it felt so good to be in her arms, there was this indescribable feeling inside me.

Maybe I should tell her how I really feel right now, instead of acting the way I am. It hurts both of us, and I don’t want to push her away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you” I said, burying my face in her neck, trying to convey my remorse through the closeness.

She gently pulled my head away and looked into my eyes. “It’s okay, cariño” she said tenderly, her voice soothing my troubled mind.

We gazed at each other for a few seconds, the world around us fading away. Her eyes flickered down to my lips a couple of times, and I could see the hesitation and desire in her gaze. She then slowly leaned in, her eyes closed, and I closed mine too, anticipating the moment.

She was so close to me, I could feel her breath on my lips, but then the door swung open, and Alexia immediately pulled away, the moment shattered.

WHY?!

“Mario esta aqui” (Mario is here) Marina said, watching us intently, then glaring at me as if I had done something wrong.

“Sí, ya vamos.” (Oh yeah, we’re coming) Alexia said, looking at her, her voice steady but her eyes reflecting the frustration of the interrupted moment.

Marina left, leaving the door open, and Alexia looked back at me with a mixture of regret and determination. “Vamos” she said, walking away, and I followed, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between us.

Making my way back to the living room, I met Mario who seems to be a very nice and kind man.We talked for a little bit about how we are all exited to see Alexia with pink hair.

——

After a while, Alexia was sitting on a chair scrolling through her phone as Mario worked his magic on her hair. I was nestled on the couch with Nala on my lap, gently stroking her fur.

Marina and Alba were engaged in a lively conversation at the kitchen table, their voices a soft murmur in the background.

At one point, Marina excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Alba took the opportunity to come and sit beside me.

Despite her presence, I kept my gaze fixed on Nala, my fingers continuing their soothing motions through her fur.

Alba rested her head on my shoulder and softly asked, “Esta noche vamos a salir con Alexia y Marina. ¿Quieres venir con nosotras?” (Tonight we are going out with Alexia and Marina. Do you want to come with us?) The thought of spending more time with that woman, whom I had known for less than three hours and already disliked intensely, was unbearable. There was no way I was going to have dinner with her.

“No” I replied curtly. My mood was sour, and I had no desire to engage in conversation. Alba had been ignoring me since we arrived, and I felt no inclination to talk to her now.

Alba lifted her head from my shoulders and looked at me, “Por que?” (Why?)she questioned, confusion lacing her voice.

“Simplemente no quiero.” (I just don’t want to) I told her, not looking at her, my voice stern. I could feel the tension building up inside me, a mix of frustration and sadness.

“Te conozco, sé que la presencia de Marina te está molestando.” (I know you, I know that Marina being here is bothering you) she said matter-of-factly, her eyes searching mine for a reaction.

“¡Por supuesto que me molesta! ¿Cómo te sentirías si la ex de tu posible novia todavía estuviera en contacto con ella y parecieran ser las mejores amigas?” (Of course it bothers me! How would you feel if the ex of your potential girlfriend was still in contact with her and they seemed like they were the best of friends?) I told her, whispering so that Alexia wouldn’t hear it. My voice was trembling slightly, betraying the calm facade I was trying to maintain.

“Vale, pero a menos que me haya perdido de algo, tú y Alexia no están juntas, así que, como le dijiste la noche del cumpleaños de Bianca, no tienes derecho a estar celosa.” (Okay, but unless I missed something, you and Alexia are not together, so like you told her the night of Bianca’s birthday, you have no right to be jealous) she told me harshly. Her words cut deep, and I felt a pang of guilt mixed with the sting of truth.

It surprised me because Alba had never talked to me like that before. Her tone was usually gentle and understanding, but now it was firm and unyielding.

I bit my lips, trying to stop the tears from coming out.

Obviously, Alba loved Marina; I could see it in the way they talked and laughed with each other. It was like they had their own little world.

What if Alba is not against the idea of Alexia and Marina getting together? The thought made my chest tighten, and I felt a wave of loneliness wash over me.

I looked at Alba, my eyes filled with a mix of emotions, before turning my gaze back to Nala on my lap. Words seemed unnecessary at that moment.

Marina returned from the bathroom, her presence immediately drawing attention as she made her way over to Alexia, who was seated and getting her hair washed.

The scene before me unfolded like a slow-motion movie, every detail etched into my mind.

The two of them were laughing and chatting, their chemistry undeniable. They looked like a couple, completely at ease with each other.

At one point, Marina wrapped an arm around Alexia’s shoulders, and Alexia responded by encircling Marina’s waist with her own arm. It was a gesture so intimate that it made my heart ache.

Marina caught my eye and smirked knowingly, aware of the effect their closeness had on me. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it stung.

Seeing them together like that was painful. In that moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alexia still harbored feelings for Marina. After all, Marina was her first love, and they had shared almost a decade together. It was only natural that some feelings might still linger.

The weight of the situation became too much to bear. I couldn't stay there any longer; witnessing their affection was like a dagger to my heart. I gently picked up Nala, who had been my silent companion through it all, and placed her carefully on the couch.

“Voy a irme ahora.” (I’m going to go now) I announced softly, trying to keep my voice steady as I addressed everyone in the room.

“¿Qué? ¿Por qué?” (What? Why?) Alexia’s voice was filled with surprise and confusion as she looked at me, her brows furrowed in concern.

“No me siento bien. Creo que necesito ir a casa y descansar un poco.” (I don’t feel good. I think I need to go home and rest a little) I lied quickly, making my way to the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

"But you can go to my room and lie on my bed if you'd like," Alexia said in english, her voice soft and pleading. "Just let me finish with my hair, and then I'll take care of you, cariño."

She was trying so hard to make me stay, her eyes filled with desperation and hope. I could feel the warmth and sincerity in her words, making it even harder to leave.

“No,thank you” I said quickly and opened the door and telling everyone goodbye.

“¡Espera! Te acompañaré hasta tu coche.” (Wait! I’ll accompany you to your car) Alba said, rising swiftly to her feet.

I nodded and made my way out of the apartment, not waiting for Alba.

Outside the building, I walked briskly to my car, with Alba trailing behind me, trying to keep up with my pace.

“Y/N, espera” (wait) she called out, her voice tinged with desperation, but I didn't stop. I unlocked my car and slid into the driver's seat.

Alba quickly moved in front of my car, her face flushed with urgency. “Lo siento mucho, Y/N. No debería haberte dicho eso.”(I'm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have told you that) she apologized, her eyes pleading with me.

“Es lo que sea“ (It's whatever) I responded flatly, my gaze fixed on her.

“Por favor, por favor, habla con mi hermana sobre esto. No te alejes de ella. Sé que está confundida ahora, pero te aseguro que tiene muchos sentimientos por ti“ (Please, please talk to my sister about this. Don't pull away from her. I know she's confused right now, but I can assure you that she has so many feelings for you) she implored, her sincerity evident in her voice.

“¿De verdad? Parece que también tiene muchos sentimientos por su ex“ (Does she? She seems like she has a lot of feelings for her ex too) I retorted sarcastically, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.

“Sí, es verdad que está muy cerca de su ex. Pero ya se acabó entre ellos. Solo te quiere a ti, no a ella” (Yes, she's really close with her ex, that's true. But it's over between them. She only wants you, Y/N, not her) Alba insisted, her desperation growing more palpable.

I studied her for a moment, noting the earnestness in her eyes. She seemed absolutely desperate to make me believe her words.

I sighed heavily. “Voy ahora. Es la última semana de clases; tengo cosas que hacer.”(I'm going now. It's the last week of school; I have things to do) I said, avoiding eye contact. “Adios” (Bye) I continued, shutting my door and starting the engine.

As I drove away, I couldn't help but feel the weight of Alba's words lingering in my mind.

——

Upon arriving back at my apartment, I immediately collapsed onto my bed. As I looked at my phone, I noticed several missed calls and text messages from Alexia. With a heavy sigh, I locked my phone and set it aside.

This entire situation feels incredibly overwhelming. From the very beginning, I sensed it would be complicated, but I chose to ignore the warning signs.

I was so consumed by my own desires and selfishly chasing my own happiness that I overlooked the potential consequences. Now, the weight of those choices is bearing down on me, and it's hard to see a way out.

I was desperately seeking happiness. Even though I was fully aware that Alexia wasn't looking for a relationship, the mere thought of having her close to me brought immense comfort and joy.

Her presence, even without the promise of a future together, was enough to make me feel content and hopeful. It was as if just being near her could fill the void I felt inside, and I couldn't resist the allure of that happiness, even if it was fleeting.

However, these past few days have made me realize that this so-called "relationship" with Alexia is causing more pain than happiness. The emotional turmoil and constant uncertainty are taking a toll on me, overshadowing the moments of joy I once cherished.

I know what I need to do; I have to end this “relationship” It's a difficult decision, but I need to prioritize my well-being and find a path that leads to genuine happiness and peace.

The mere thought of it brought tears to my eyes, and before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Each tear felt like a release of the pent-up emotions I'd been holding in for so long. I cried until I was exhausted, my body shaking with each sob.

Eventually, the overwhelming fatigue took over, and I cried myself to sleep, my pillow damp with tears.

——

I woke up startled by a persistent knocking on my door. Groggily, I got up and made my way to the front door.

As I passed by the entrance mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself and realized I looked like a complete mess.

My face was red and puffy, my eyes were swollen from crying, and my hair was a tangled, disheveled disaster. I was the very definition of a hot mess.

Despite not caring much about my appearance at that moment, I opened the door. There stood Alexia, holding a bag in her hand.

Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing me, and I couldn't blame her—I probably looked quite scary.

Alexia, on the other hand, looked stunning. Her pink hair framed her face perfectly, and I couldn't help but think how right I was about it suiting her so well.

“Hi, come in” I told her, opening the door wider to let her into the apartment.

She stepped inside and headed straight for the kitchen counter, where she began to unload her bag. Out came some soup, bottles of water, a few medicines, and a small box.

“¿Todavía te sientes mal? Le pedí a mi mamá la receta de la sopa que solía hacer para Alba y para mí cuando estábamos enfermos.” (Do you still feel sick? I asked my mom for the soup recipe she used to make for Alba and me when we were sick) she explained, moving closer. I instinctively stepped back, trying to avoid any physical contact with her.

“You did this for me?” I asked, feeling a bit touched by her thoughtfulness.

She nodded. “Yeah, well, Marina helped me with it” she admitted, and immediately, I felt a surge of anger.

There was no way I was going to eat that. I’m sure that bitch poisoned it.

“Can we talk?” I asked her gently as she was about to heat up the soup.

“Yes, I'm just warming this up for you” she replied, looking back at me with a soft smile.

“No need, I won't eat it, I’m not sick” I said firmly, making my way to the couch and signaling for her to join me.

She looked puzzled but followed me. She sat down beside me, her movements hesitant.

She reached out to take my hand, but I pulled it away, unable to mask my unease.

Her face fell, and she looked at me with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“Is something wrong? Alba also told me that I should come talk to you” she said, her voice tinged with worry. She leaned in slightly, searching my face for answers.

“Who is Marina?” I asked her directly, my eyes locked onto hers with determination.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “You know who she is. You met her this afternoon. She's my friend” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, who is she really? And please, tell me the truth” I insisted, my voice firm, “I already know who she truly is I just want to hear it from you.”

She sighed deeply. “Ella es mi exnovia.” (She's my ex-girlfriend) she murmured, her voice tinged with shame.

I nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Why wouldn't you tell me that you and your ex are in contact and, from what I saw, really good friends?” I asked, my tone firm but controlled.

“No pensé que fuera gran cosa“ (I didn't think it was a big deal) she whispered, her fingers nervously playing with the fabric of her lap.

“What do you mean, not a big deal? Maybe not for you, but for me it is!” I exclaimed, my voice rising slightly. “Please explain to me how this happened” I continued, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

“It happened before I left for the Champions League final. She contacted me again, telling me that she was coming back to live in Spain. At first, I didn't really want to see her, but then she insisted and asked we could talk so I said yes.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then continued, “We talked things out, caught up on life, my career, and hers. I don't know... it feels like old times...” she trailed off, her voice filled with nostalgia. I closed my eyes, biting my lip in frustration.

“It feels like old times...” she clearly reminded of their past relationship.

“She was with you at the club after winning the Champions League” I pointed out, my voice tinged with suspicion.

“Sí, esa noche ella se sentía un poco deprimida, así que la invité allí para animarla.” (Yes, that night she was feeling a little down, so I invited her there to cheer her up) she explained, biting her lip nervously and avoiding my gaze.

“Does she sleep at your apartment?” I asked, my tone sharp and accusing.

“She only slept one night, and it was yesterday. She got into a fight with her mom and didn’t have a place to stay, so I told her to stay with me” she explained again, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Did you slept with her,I mean together on your bed”I asked nervously,scared of the answer.

“No, I slept on the couch and she slept on my bed.” Alexia simply responded firmly.

I nodded slowly, processing her words. “If it wasn't a big deal, why didn't you tell me she was back? Why did I have to find out from pictures and from Alba, who told me you guys dated for 8 years,?” I asked, my frustration evident.

If it wasn't a big deal, why didn't she tell me? There must be something else she’s not saying...

“No sé” (I don't know) was all she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I scoffed, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief. “You don't know... I repeated, shaking my head.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” I asked, my voice cracking a little bit, betraying the storm of emotions within me.

Upon hearing the tremor in my voice, Alexia looked up at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t think so...”she trailed off, and as her words hung in the air, I felt my own tears begin to fall, unstoppable.

“It’s a yes or no answer, Alexia,” I told her firmly, trying to wipe away my tears, but it was futile as more streamed down my face.

Alexia hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. “I... I can’t lie to you... When I first saw her again and talked to her, I felt things. But I promise you, with time, all those feelings went away. You made them go away. You were the only one on my mind” she said, her voice gaining strength and urgency.

When she confessed the first part of her sentence, I felt my heart plummet.

All this time, my thoughts and heart had been solely dedicated to her, and to think that at one point her heart and thoughts had been dedicated to someone else was a pain I hadn’t anticipated.

The realization hit me hard, and the hurt was almost too much to bear.

I decided not to mention how I thought her ex was a bitch to me; now isn't the right moment.

However, I was planning to share with her how isolated I felt throughout the entire afternoon.

“I felt awful all afternoon. It seemed like you were all ignoring me, speaking in Catalan, and living in your own world. It felt as if Marina was the only one who mattered, and I was just on the sidelines” I quietly told her, still feeling hurt.

“Lo siento mucho, cariño. Estábamos tan atrapados en recordar el pasado y compartir viejas historias que no nos dimos cuenta de que te estábamos excluyendo” (I'm so sorry, we were all so caught up in reminiscing about the past and sharing old stories that we didn't realize we were excluding you) she tried to explain, her voice filled with regret.

I could see the genuine remorse in her eyes, but at that moment, my feelings of hurt overshadowed any empathy I might have had. It felt like no matter what she said, the sting of being sidelined wouldn't easily fade away.

“I...”I began, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “I think it's time to end whatever this is between us” I whispered softly, my voice trembling.

“¡¿Qué!? ¡No! Por favor, por favor, no hagas eso. Haré cualquier cosa por ti.” (What!? No! Please, please don't do that! I'll do anything for you) she pleaded, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. Her desperation was palpable, and it crushed me even more.

“I'm sorry, Alexia, but this whole situation is a mess... We're just hurting each other...”I paused, wiping my own tears as they fell. “It feels like all we do is hurt each other...” I moved closer to her, taking her hand in mine, feeling the warmth and the tremble of her fingers.

“You're not hurting me; you bring me happiness” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to convince me.

Her eyes were filled with pain and sorrow, and it tore at my heart. “Por favor, no me dejes. Te necesito” (Please, don't leave me. I need you.)

“Alexia…” I trailed off “we are hurting each other… plus look our relationship has not even started yet and you’re already hiding things from me” I told her squeezing her hand.

I hate seeing her like that.

“Lo siento mucho” (I’m so sorry) she said looking at me with so much pain in her eyes.

“Don’t apologized, it’s okay” no, it’s not.

After a few agonizing minutes of silence, the room filled with the sound of our sniffles.

Alexia slowly pulled her hand away and stood up, her movements heavy with sorrow.

“Well…um…Voy a irme ahora” (I’m going to go now) she said painfully, her voice cracking as she wiped away her tears.

I got up too, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. We walked towards the door together, each step feeling like a goodbye. Just as she reached the door, she turned around, her eyes pleading as she opened her arms for a hug.

I hugged her tightly, desperate to hold onto the warmth of her embrace one last time. Her body trembled against mine as she whispered in my ear, “Thank you for bringing me so much happiness these last few weeks,” and then she softly kissed my cheek before pulling away.

“Thank you, for making me happy” I told her, my voice barely above a whisper as I smiled softly at her. She returned the smile, though it was tinged with the same sadness that filled the room.

She then turned around and exited my apartment, leaving me standing there, watching her disappear from my life. I closed the door slowly, the finality of the moment hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I stayed frozen in place, my eyes locked on the door that Alexia had just walked through. The emptiness in the room seemed to echo my own feelings. I had never felt so heartbroken over someone I hadn't even officially dated.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed to gather myself and made my way to the kitchen table. I sank into a chair, staring blankly at the empty space in front of me. That's when I noticed the small box that Alexia had brought earlier, sitting there like a poignant reminder of what had just been lost.

Reaching out for the box with trembling hands, I opened it, revealing a small note that read, “Para mí cariño” adorned with a delicate little heart. Beneath the note lay a necklace with a butterfly pendant, each wing intricately inscribed with our initials.

I was stunned. I had only mentioned to her once that butterflies were my favorite insects, and yet she had remembered and chosen something so personal and meaningful.

The realization hit me like a wave, and I couldn't help but sob uncontrollably. The depth of her thoughtfulness and the memories we shared overwhelmed me.

I had lost her, and the pain was almost unbearable, but deep down, I knew it was for the best... or at least, I hoped it was.

[miley1442111]

safe- a.hotchner

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summary: aaron had to make sure you're safe, can he get to you in time?

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny! girlfriend! fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive mentions, angsty for a moment (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

--------------

Aaron ran through the crowd, the only thing on his mind was you. Were you hurt? Were you dead? Were you even in there? Could he help you? Could he get to you? 

Was he too late?

He could hear Derek shouting for him, pleading with him to slow down. He didn’t understand, none of them would ever understand. You had to be ok. You were his everything. He should’ve never fallen in love with you, it wasn’t right. You were Jack’s nanny. You’d been with them since Haley died. You’d supported them since Haley died. Then you turned into someone whoAaron loved being around, someone he trusted with his son’s life, and his own. Then he waited up for you on his nights off, when you had your nights off. Then you waited for him on late work nights. 

--------------

The door opening startled you, as it always did, but you just glanced to the hall and saw Aaron hanging his coat. 

“Evening,” you called to him. “Or should I say morning?”

He sighed. “Shouldn’t you be out? Isn’t Jack at a sleepover?” He smirked. 

“Not all young people only want to party,” you rolled your eyes, finishing up washing a dish and turning to him. “Hungry?”

“I can’t ask you to make me food-”

The nightly battle of getting him to eat something with nutritious value rather than old cereal while he looked over reports. “Nonsense. I have leftovers from Jack’s dinner, it’ll take me 10 minutes-” 

His hand on your waist stopped you from moving. “You’re here to take care of Jack, not me.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing his hand off. “I know, remembering that would be a lot easier if you could take care of yourself,” you huffed, moving to start cooking something for him. 

He sighed. “Y/n,” he scolded. 

You didn’t answer, and just continued. 

His hands circled your waist and you stilled. You felt his hot breath on your neck, and swallowed as the air became heavier, as the moment held more weight. 

“Aaron,” you whispered, slow and steady as it came out of your mouth. 

“No one ever takes care of you,” he said, a wolf-ish smirk on his face, one that you could definitely get used to. 

“You do,” you shrugged, trying to get back to the task at hand. 

“How? How would you like me to take care of you?” Aaron Hotchner was a man of iron-solid resolve, a man that couldn’t break under too much pressure, that wouldn’t break under too much pressure. But you? You were his undoing, you guided him through everything, knowing he was keeping you and Jack safe everyday made his days less unbearable. 

You chuckled lightly and turned around to face him. Then you pressed your lips to his. 

He could’ve sworn you tasted like heaven. Your hands running through his hair, his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Nothing could’ve felt better. 

He pulled back and smiled. 

You smiled too. 

--------------

“Hotch!” Derek shouted, finally getting a hand on him. “Jack is out of there, he’s safe!”

Aaron turned to him briefly. “Y/n isn’t out, she’s not here, is she Derek?”

“Who’s Y/n?” He cursed several times under his breath. 

“His girlfriend,” you answered. You were banged up pretty badly, bruises and bleeding and dirt, but you were standing there. In front of him, you were real, you were alive. He opened his arms and you slumped into them. 

“I tried my best to keep Jack out of it, I don’t know where he is, I just told him to run-” you spoke quickly, but he quieted you with a kiss to your head. 

“He’s safe,” he promised. “You're safe too.”

You nodded, and buried your head in the crook of his neck as the team watched on in shock. 

Aaron wasn’t planning on answering any of their questions, all he wanted was to have you and Jack home and safe. Where he could protect you.

--------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[siythn]

˚◞ HAIRCARE! - SUGURU GETO

SYNPOSIS. with geto being your boyfriend, a morning routine was established. but some say sitting between his thighs as he does your hair; fingers running through strands, removing knots, and stying might be unusual. but to you, it was everything.

WARNINGS! tooth-rotting fluff

WC; 1.05K

THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING SUN filtered through the white curtains, casting a warm glow throughout the shared room. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a small, circled-shaped mirror propped up before you.

Your eyes weren't on your reflection though. Rather, they were closed, too focused on enjoying the sensation of Geto running his fingers through your hair, gently untangling the strands than to bother checking your morning face.

He sat behind you, legs laying on either side of your frame, thighs dangerously close to your face. Your boyfriend's presence brought a comforting weight as you rested your cheek against his upper leg.

You felt a slight tug as he pulled the brush through a particularly stubborn knot, but it was more reassuring than painful.

Honestly, Geto had always been careful with your hair as if it was alive. He always took his time, making sure each stroke was slow and deliberate, muttering sorry under his breath if he tanked on a strand a bit too hard.

It was adorable to see the black-haired male so engaged in a messily task you asked him to one random Tuesday morning that soon became an everyday routine. Even on days, you protested that it was fine—you found yourself in the same position from the day before, getting ready with all the supplies needed seated beside him.

The cherry on top had to have been when you walked in on him practicing hairstyles that you mentioned you liked. Your boyfriend never found out, and you brushed it off as a mere coincidence since he also had a length to his hair.

You had to stop yourself from geeking when the same hairstyle was on your hair two days later.

The scent of his shampoo filled the space between you, a mix of something herbal and earthy. It was familiar to you, seeing as you stole it and used it for yourself a couple more times you would like to admit.

Hearing the soft rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly, adjusting his position for better access. His fingers were nimble and practiced, and you couldn't help the admiration at how effortlessly he managed your hair, a task that always seemed to take you ages.

"You've got a lot of patience for this," you remarked, your voice soft in the morning quiet with faint blinking eyes; sneakily peering at him through the mirror.

He chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating through the room to you. "Well, someone has to keep your hair in check."

You laughed the sound blending with the peaceful atmosphere. "Hey, I try my best."

"I know you do," he said, his tone gentle. "But sometimes you need a bit of help."

He didn't speak much more, and neither did you. The silence was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional hum of approval from him when a particularly tricky tangle came free. You felt the coolness of his rings against your scalp, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands.

As Geto worked, you let your mind drift; eyes shutting once more, focusing on the rhythmic pattern of his movements. He sectioned your hair, clipping some of it up to keep it out of the way. You could feel the slight pressure of the plastic clips, holding everything in place.

"You always take your time with this," you mused, feeling the brush glide through the length of your hair, each pass smoothing out the strands.

"I like taking care of you," he replied simply, his voice low and sincere.

Feeling your body warm at your boyfriend's words, you slightly straighten up, cheek moved up from his thigh to sit at the front. Geto not bothered by the sudden movement switched to a finer comb for the finishing touches, feeling the difference between the bristles.

"Any plans for today?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Not really," he said, his fingers deftly weaving your hair once more. "I was thinking we could just relax. Maybe watch a movie later."

"That sounds nice," you agreed, smiling at the thought.

When the male finally finished, he gathered your hair in his hands, twisting it into a loose braid. His fingers worked quickly, securing the end with a hair tie that was on his wrist. You opened your eyes and looked in the mirror, admiring his handiwork. The braid was neat and tight, but not too tight, and you could see the pride in his eyes as he looked at it.

"You did a great job, Sugu," you said, turning slightly to face him.

"Glad you like it," he replied, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

Geto leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. You could see his reflection in the mirror, his dark eyes soft, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your forehead, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter.

"Thanks," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't need to respond; the gentle squeeze of his hand on your shoulder said it all. The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, savoring the moment of the morning, the quiet connection between you.

"Want some breakfast?" he asked after a while, his arms had now found their way across your body; secured in his hold.

"Sure," you replied, leaning back into him. "What are you in the mood for?"

"How about pancakes?" Geto suggested, head resting between the crook of your neck, making you squirm in response with sensitivity. You could feel his lips curl to a smirk. "I can whip up a batch pretty quickly."

"Pancakes sound perfect," you agreed with a laugh, playfully taking his face and gently shoving it away from you as if to hide your neck from him.

He grinned and, with a swift motion, scooped you up into his arms. You squealed in surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"Suguru—put me down!" you laughed, but there was no real protest in your voice as you "tried" to escape.

He carried you effortlessly toward the kitchen, his steps steady and sure. "Nope. You wanted pancakes, and I'm delivering you straight to them."

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder as he carried you through the house in defeat.

Maybe you didn't mind this being an everyday routine.

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