#i know this is not a new observation but it still brings me joy every time i remember

[esleep]

i made korean tacos for dinner (no recipe just vibes + what i had in the fridge) and they were unbelievably delicious. my god.

[maximoffsgirl]

Felis

summary: Wanda Maximoff had a well-known reputation for barely tolerating humanity— well, except for you. That much was obvious. What wasn’t so obvious was the Wanda only you got, the Wanda who took you to secret late-night dates spent under the stars, where it was just You, her and the constellations. But now, meeting face to face with the misfortune of having to share you, will Wanda be able to survive nosy adults - known as the World's mighty heroes- that want to "take her girlfriend away"?

warnings: Established but new relationship, late night car drives, make outs, Slight alcohol consumption, Wanda being an emo black cat and cute, Jealousy and Possessiveness (W to R), otherwise I think there's none, but please let me know!

not proofread

author's note: to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️ (I'm sorry it took sooooo long, i hope it was worth the wait)

words count: 7.905

The room buzzed with a relaxed, lively energy, the kind that paired perfectly with the faint chill creeping in from the late hour. Unfortunately for Wanda, your animated conversation with Yelena seemed destined to stretch into eternity—or at least until the yawning hours of the morning. And, according to Wanda’s resolve, it was already late enough for her to contemplate the sweet relief of her bed.  

You threw your head back in laughter, your carefree joy radiating through the room as you sipped your drink. Every now and then, your gaze flicked toward Wanda, scanning for her familiar figure. When you spotted her lingering at the edge of a small demilune table, you gestured for her to come closer. But she just pointed toward the couch where the rest of your friends were perched, and you nodded, giving her a quiet, reassuring smile.  

Your friends had practically staged an intervention to convince you to bring Wanda to your group’s monthly reunion. Sure, she’d bumped into some of them before—an impromptu chat here, an accidental coffee shop encounter there, maybe a party or two—but being submerged in the full, unfiltered chaos of your entire friend group was a whole different beast.

 It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t like them or that they didn’t like her. They got along quite well, and to Wanda’s surprise, they actually had some interesting things to talk about and fun stories to share. The problem was just… people.  

Even if your group was as friendly and easygoing as they came, they were still people. And that didn’t make them any less exhausting.  

Wanda handled it all as the night stretched on. Polite conversations, a few strategically timed smiles, more small talk than she could ever count. She kept her drink alcohol-free, making sure to stay in condition to drive both of you back. But a woman can only handle so much. She quickly found her brief moments of relief by sneaking off to the bathroom, where she’d check her phone—just long enough to catch her breath before re-entering the chaos. When that didn’t suffice, she’d quietly gravitate toward you, slipping her hand gently around your waist. It wasn’t to draw attention or interrupt; just a quiet connection, a grounding touch that offered her comfort without taking too much of your focus, letting her steal a few moments of peace before braving the crowd again.  

At some point, she even got roped into a game with two boys named Billy and Tommy, her competitive streak sparking a few rare grins. But soon enough, the buzz of social interaction began to drain her reserves. By the time you and Yelena’s gossiping marathon was winding down, Wanda had settled into her default role as the quiet observer, her emerald eyes trailing you across the room like a moth drawn to its flame.  

When you finally made your way back to her, you leaned in to press a kiss just behind her ear, instantly switching her attention to a more interesting subject: you.

Wanda’s focus shifted instantly, her gaze snapping to you as quickly as her hand placement now, a possessive grip on your thigh. She had long stopped pretending to listen to Kate Bishop’s rambling. The words coming from Kate’s mouth were nothing compared to the sight of you. Your skirt, the way it clung to your skin despite the cold, was far more interesting than… well, she really had no idea what that girl was saying.  

It didn’t take one with powers to be able to read your girlfriend. Wanda’s forest-green eyes, though soft and subtle, practically screamed, Please, let’s go home. Her social battery was drained down to fumes, and the longing for the quiet solitude of her own space was undeniable.  

When you leaned closer and murmured, “You’re ready to go. Aren’t you?” your words were laced with humor, teasing her indirectly for her lack of love for people. The spark in her eyes flared to life, a silent but emphatic yes. With a quiet chuckle, you nodded, rising from your seat and signaling the end of the night.  

Both of you offered your goodbyes to the group, earning a chorus of exaggerated complaints about how the night was still young—even though the clock had struck 2 AM half an hour ago. You smiled apologetically, tossing out an excuse about needing to get up early, even if everyone knew it was only half true. Wanda appeared beside you just in time, draping her leather jacket over your shoulders—because, naturally, you hadn’t thought to bring one yourself.  

A few quick waves later, you were stepping out into the crisp night air, Wanda’s hand finding its place on your lower back, gently steering you toward the car. You glanced up at her, smiling softly, and her lips curved into a smirk before she leaned in, stealing a quick kiss. Your surprised giggle encouraged her, and she peppered your lips with more playful pecks all the way to the car. Once there, she opened the door for you, her touch lingering as you settled into the passenger seat.  

The drive home was nothing unusual for Wanda, though her mind wandered. If it were up to her, you’d be spending the night at the tower, wrapped up in her until morning. But she knew better—your schedule was packed, and persuasion, no matter how charming, wouldn’t change your mind. Believe her, she’d tried before, and you were infuriatingly stubborn.  

“I’ll pick you up at 7 PM then,” she said as you unbuckle your seatbelt, her tone firm with a touch of affection.  

“Okay, but text me when you’re leaving the tower,” you replied, grabbing your purse.  

Wanda hummed her agreement, though her focus had already shifted. Her fingers trailed teasingly along your thigh, drawing your attention back to her. You tilted your head, leaning slightly against the seat as you flushed under her gaze. Without hesitation, Wanda’s hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was far more intense than you’d expected. A quiet moan escaped you, caught off guard by the heat of it.  

That sound was all it took for Wanda to tug you into her lap, her hands firm on your hips, drawing you closer with every second. One hand wandered upward, settling confidently on your neck as the kiss deepened. When you finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, you murmured, “I need to go hooome.”  

Wanda’s response was a low murmur against your neck, followed by a series of distracting kisses. “And?” her tone lazy and unbothered, her lips never straying far from your skin created goosebumps all over your body. The sheer audacity of it made you groan, tilting your head back. You knew what she was doing.  

You giggled softly, shaking your head at her antics, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. Placing your hands gently on her shoulders, you immediately drew Wanda’s attention. Before she could dive back toward your neck, you leaned in, pressing a light peck to her lips, halting her progress.  

“As much as I love this, and as much as I love you. I really, really need to go.”  

Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting at all. Her expression softened as she let her hand wander, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate strokes along your hip. Brushing her other thumb against your skin with an affectionate rhythm as her eyes met yours.  

“But you’ll stay tomorrow at the tower,” she said, and you knew better than to take that as anything other than an affirmation.  

Either way, you nodded, a faint smile curving your lips at her certainty. The two of you lingered in each other’s arms for a while longer, chatting about silly, inconsequential things, along with Wanda’s now-and-then complaints about people, in general.  

Maybe it was because Wanda grew up with only her brother by her side, her world small and quiet, that adjusting to life with far more people than she’d ever anticipated felt like stepping into chaos. It explained a lot about her demeanor—your girlfriend was, without a doubt, the definition of a black cat. From her emo wardrobe to her piercingly observant nature, right down to that deadly tilt of her head, she carried an air of mystery and quiet defiance that was entirely her own.  

A mystery that she was letting you slowly resolve.  

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Wanda walked you to your door, her hand resting snugly against your lower back, and stole one last kiss for the night. Alright, she stole three kisses… maybe four before she said goodbye.  

--- 07:13 PM, Saturday.

Wanda knew countless ways to show you love. She absolutely hated those five love language quizzes. But took every possible quiz known to mankind, because it made you happy. To her, there was no point in defining her love when her goal was simple: to love you in every imaginable way known to humanity.  

Take words of affirmation—Wanda had mastered them. Sometimes she’d leave you anonymous notes tucked in unexpected places, filled with songs, poems, or plain “I love yous” scribbled all over the paper. Of course, those notes often came paired with flowers, seamlessly tying into her “gift-giving” love language.

 Or she would whisper sweet things in your ear, maybe after fucking you into the mattress to a point that your legs simply decided against working; or during a cozy cuddle session, that she was so overwhelmed to the thought of loving you that expressing what her heart felt was the only way to breathe.

But Wanda had her personal ranking system, and in her imaginary list, the “best love language of all time” title went to a combination of three: acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. It might seem odd if you thought about it. Because as much as she loved her brother and cherished the company of the team, Wanda Maximoff was known as the ultimate lone wolf; who cherished her independence and had always preferred her space. But who now, lived for your presence.  

The once-solitary soul found herself missing you in your absence, casually touching you whenever you were close, and pouting—yes, pouting—when you weren’t. She’d found herself wanting to do anything and everything for you, from tying your shoelaces to painting your nails, actions that spoke volumes without a single word.  

And tonight, you realized she’d be using all three in full force the moment you shut your front door. Wanda leaned against her car casually, exuding an effortless confidence that made it look like she owned the world. Her combat boots gave her a slightly taller stance, her short black skirt was just enough to drive you insane, and her crimson lace corset hugged her waist with a perfection that could make statues weep.  

Topping it all off was her signature leather jacket, the one both of you knew would end up draped over your shoulders by the end of the night, as it always did.

She greeted you with a sweet pet name, her tone soft as she guided you to the passenger seat. Then, as soon as she got in, she kissed you—a teasing, gentle press of her lips that left your lipstick intact but made your heart flutter in the way only Wanda could.  

Too wonderstruck by Wanda’s presence to notice at first, it wasn’t until you glanced around the car that something seemed off. A frown slowly crept onto your face as you noticed the unfamiliar vehicle: a pickup truck you were certain Wanda didn’t own.  

“This is not your car,” you stated, turning to her with a puzzled look, silently asking for an explanation.  

“It’s Clint’s. And I’ll say no more because it’s part of your surprise,” she replied with a sly smirk, clearly enjoying your confusion.  

She tried to steer your attention elsewhere, initiating a conversation about anything but cars or dates. Soon enough, the two of you were caught up in the comfort of your usual rhythm. Wanda shared new stories about the team and Pietro that you hadn’t heard before, and you found yourself revealing snippets of your life before her, the kind of details you didn’t usually think to share but felt natural with her.  

Of course, curiosity got the best of you, as it always did. You tried again, your tone playfully insistent. “Where are we going?” But Wanda wasn’t budging.  

“I’m not saying. You’ll just have to sit there and look pretty,” her smile only making you more curious.  

Resigning to the mystery for now, you shifted your focus to the little comforts inside the car. You picked the music—your shared playlist, the one you’d made together late at night before you’d even started dating—and absentmindedly played with the rings on Wanda’s right hand, the same hand that rested comfortably on your thigh.  

The conversation, once again, changed to random facts, half-formed ideas, and musings stories that hadn’t come up before. But neither of you cared; every small discovery about each other felt like another thread tying you closer together.  

Then the car slowed. Wanda stopped near a gate, grabbing a set of keys and tapping your leg as she stepped out. It wasn’t until she walked toward the gate—a sophisticated, intricately designed one—that your curiosity turned into full-blown amusement.  

When she returned, you tilted your head at her with a half-smile, your curiosity now brimming. “Wanda… what is that?”  

She giggled, looking up dramatically as if in thought, before you poked her side, your need to know finally winning out.  

“I was talking to Clint about taking you on a date, like that movie we watched. But I didn’t have a place, and the park just wasn’t it. So, welcome to Anthony Stark’s country house,” she said casually.  

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a startled laugh escaping you as you processed her words. “Stark?! How?”  

If it had been Clint offering, it would’ve made more sense. He was practically Wanda’s surrogate father figure, even if she refused to admit it. But Tony? That was a different story.  

“He offered,” she said with a shrug. “Said it’s a family property he barely uses. I wasn’t going to take him up on it, but Barton called me out. And, well… it’s for you.”  

Her voice softened on the last words, and she looked away, parking the car near a tree. Even in the dim light, you could see the faint blush dusting her cheeks, a blush too strong to go unnoticed.  

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you reached out to her, feeling overwhelmed by the gesture. Wanda Maximoff, the girl who claimed she didn’t need anyone, had gone through all this trouble just to give you something special.  

“You’re too good,” you murmured, the words spilling out unfiltered, your heart feeling fuller than ever.

Wanda’s smile was a perfect blend of shyness and confidence, like she knew exactly what she was doing but still couldn’t quite believe she was pulling it off. She parked the car under the shelter of a sprawling tree, its branches reaching out like they were trying to touch the stars. And oh, the stars—countless, glittering, and impossibly bright against the deep blue canvas of the night sky.

You stepped out of the car, immediately captivated by the celestial display, your head tilting back, trying to watch it closely. You turned, ready to gush to Wanda about how breathtaking it all was, but your words caught in your throat. She wasn’t there.

Your eyes darted around, and there she was—Wanda, already moving with purpose, shutting the backseat door and making her way to the truck bed. Curiosity piqued, you followed, your footsteps crunching softly on the gravel.

What was she up to now? Your mind raced, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

The truck bed looked like a scene straight from a rom-com, but this was real, and it was all yours. Blankets and pillows were spread out neatly, candles flickered softly, and a few containers sat nearby, hinting at snacks waiting to be discovered. There was also a wooden board, though you didn’t know what it was for yet. 

And then, of course, there was Wanda. She sat on the edge of the truck bed, her dark brown hair catching the soft candlelight, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and warmth. She stood there, effortlessly magnetic and, but her smile? always sweet.

Suddenly, the constellations above you felt insignificant, obsolete.

Why gaze at distant stars when the most radiant being in the universe was standing right in front of you? And then, like a quiet ripple in your memory, you thought back to the first time you saw Wanda.

It was a Friday night, and you were out with your friends after a long week. The local club was packed, as it always was on weekends, but the drinks were good enough to make the crowd bearable. You weren’t there for anything in particular—just to unwind, sip on a drink, and enjoy the company of your closest friends. The music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself laughing, dancing, and letting the night carry you along. That’s when you noticed her, in the middle of it all. 

Her hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a sleek black short skirt and tall boots that added an air of elegance to her presence. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to glow even in the dim light of the club—that made it impossible to look away. Your first thought was that she reminded you of a constellation. Hard to find, but impossible not to search for it.

Astronomers might say that constellations are only hard to find if you don't know what you're searching for; you didn’t know much about stars—you could barely find the three stars of the Orion Belt—but spotting her in that crowded room felt as natural as finding the constellation Cassiopeia.

But as far as looking goes, you didn’t approach her. You wanted to, but the moment never felt right. By the time you gathered the courage, she was gone, disappearing into the night like the stars fading at dawn. And there goes your North Star…

Later, after you’d been talking for a couple of weeks, Wanda confessed something that surprised you. She had noticed you that night too. In fact, she had stared at you the whole night. To the point where Pietro - her twin brother, who practically forced her out of her room that night - teased her about the intense and long stares she was giving you, saying you would soo call the cops on her ass if she continued to look like a creep.

 But she didn’t care. She was drawn to you, too busy admiring you. 

That is, until she saw Kate - your overly affectionate, completely wasted friend - throw her arms around your shoulders and drag you onto the dance floor. Wanda spent the rest of the night pouting like a child, downing a few more shots, and probably plotting Kate’s demise. 

Now, standing here with her, the stars above seem dim in comparison. Wanda is luminous, magnetic, and real—not some distant, untouchable light in the sky. And in this moment, no constellation could ever come close to her.

There was once a constellation named Felis. Created by a French astronomer in 1799 who felt sorry that there wasn’t a cat among the constellations (though that was not entirely true, because the constellation Lynx was formed by another astronomer in 1687). The constellation could be found between the constellations of Antlia and Hydra, a small cluster of stars meant to honor the elegance and mystery of a feline.

You chuckled at the cat-loving astronomer, amused by their dedication to carving out a place for a cat in the vast night sky. But at the same time, you couldn’t blame him when you, yourself, would create a constellation for Wanda. A cat, as well, because she more than half of the time took pride in her black cat personality. 

When finding yourself sad on the news that the Felis constellation has become obsolete, you decided that Wanda Maximoff would be your new Felis. Something you never got the courage to mention to her, but a silly nickname that found its way into your diary every single time you wrote about her

So as you stared at the woman in front you, your brain short-circuited. Though it always did when “Wanda Maximoff” was involved. The first thought that popped into your head was, “I’ll never get over her if we ever break up.” Because how could you? Who else would go to such lengths to make you feel like the center of the universe?

You pouted at her, your face a mix of disbelief and awe. No words came out—just a soft, overwhelmed exhale. The kind of exhale that comes when you realize just how loved you are. 

“Wands…” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda’s smile widened, and she patted the space beside her, a silent invitation. “You’re just going to stand there like a dork or will you join your girlfriend?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes full of affection.

Girlfriend. That word never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, and quickly climbed into the truck bed. You settled onto the blanket, draping another one over your legs as Wanda handed it to you. 

“This is… wow,” you said, still taking it all in—the stars, the candles, the tree, her. “I mean… you are wow.” Wanda chuckled, the sound warm and low, and leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek before pulling you closer.

The night unfolded in the most perfect way. You lay there together, staring up at the stars, trying to spot the Orion’s Belt as Wanda tried to explain to you how easy it was to find it - you called her crazy right after. The sound of a nearby river added a soothing soundtrack to the moment, its gentle babble mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. At one point, you gasped, noticing the strings of light bulbs hanging from the tree above. They cast a soft, golden glow, and you realized that’s where the light had been coming from all along. 

After a while, Wanda’s gaze shifted from the stars to you. She had this habit of staring, and while it used to make you blush furiously, you’d grown to find it endearing. You stared back, holding her gaze as long as you could, until the intensity became too much and you had to look away, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you hungry?” Wanda asked, breaking the silence out of sudden, another habit she had.

“Right now? Hmm, not really,” you replied, though your stomach might have disagreed if it weren’t so busy being distracted by the romance of it all.

Wanda nodded, but then, she quickly slid off the truck bed and disappeared toward the backseat. You frowned, curious, and watched as she reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses; the wooden board now serving as a perfectly sized table for two. She balanced it between you two, one leg on your side and the other on hers, and then, like some kind of romantic magician, produced two drawing books and a set of crayons.

“What is happening right now?” you asked, half-laughing, as she handed you a half-glass of wine. She poured herself a glass of water, explaining that she’d be the designated driver tonight, as it usually happened. After all, someone had to sneak you both back into the tower and find the way to her room without raising suspicion.

You took a sip of the wine, the rich flavor warming you from the inside out, and glanced at the drawing book in your lap. “So… are we having an art night under the stars?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

And it was exactly that. Wanda had planned a cozy little coloring and drawing session just for the two of you. You leaned partially against her, finding the most comfortable position possible, and your cheeks warmed up when she casually draped her leather jacket over your shoulders. She made sure to tuck the blanket snugly around your waist, making sure that you stayed warm and cozy. You silently thanked her with a shower of soft kisses, making her giggle as she playfully tried to wiggle away—though you both knew she wasn’t actually trying to escape.

Just when you thought she couldn't possibly outdo herself, she hit you with the ultimate surprise: a container of your favorite cookies. Yes, your favorite cookies. Freshly baked. Homemade. You stared at her, eyes practically glistening, and the look you gave her in that moment was so full of love that Wanda was convinced she could die happy, right then and there.

And so, the two of you stayed like that for hours—though it felt like mere minutes. Coloring, talking, kissing, eating, just loving

At some point in the night, when your wine glass had been emptied, with not a single drop to be found and the cookies had long since disappeared, you noticed Wanda giving you a look. That look. You couldn’t pinpoint what was happening inside her head at that moment: after all, you haven't yet got the time to figure out the meaning behind Wanda Maximoff’s indecipherable gazes. And that woman had an entire collection of unreadable expressions.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, though. A lot of people thought Wanda was “cold” or “distant” because of the way she carried herself��her infamous resting bitch face and her preference for not engaging in unnecessary small talk. But you knew better.

You wished people could see Wanda through your eyes. See how thoughtful she was, how much effort she put into the things and people she loved. But at the same time, there was a selfish part of you that liked keeping this version of Wanda all to yourself. You liked having this Wanda just for you. For your eyes to see, your heart to hold, and yours to have..

Especially now, when she was looking at you like that - a “that” that you didn’t even know what it meant or how you could begin to describe it -, her fingers idly tracing up and down your neck, a habit she had picked up a few weeks ago.

“I have another thing for you,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it felt like speaking any louder would disturb the peaceful bubble you had built around yourselves.

“Wanda…” You groaned, though the smile stretching across your face completely betrayed your attempt at scolding her. “You’re spoiling me too much.”

She just shook her head, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips; the red lipstick now smeared on her glass.

You giggled as she helped you hop off the truck bed, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip. But when she led you to the car and opened the backseat door for you, you couldn’t help but frown in confusion.

Settling into the seat, you looked up at her, curiosity swimming in your eyes. Wanda simply closed the door behind her, a small smirk playing on her lips. You didn’t have much time to admire her, though, because in the next moment, you realized you were trapped. Wanda had you against the door, your back somehow comfortably resting against it as she crawled closer and closer to you, until she was hovering over you, her body caging you in.

You turned your head to the side, blushing under the weight of her full and undivided attention. But Wanda wasn’t having any of that. She reached out and gently grabbed your chin, supporting herself with her other arm as she leaned in closer. 

“What? You’re too shy to look at me?” she teased, her face carrying a curious expression, though her voice betrayed her with a mock tone. “You didn’t even drink that much wine.”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I had enough,” you replied, your voice soft but playful, an intense blush quickly growing on your cheeks. Wanda’s smirk grew wider, and she raised her eyebrows at you, humming in acknowledgment. 

Her thumb traced a slow, deliberate path from your chin to your jaw, then down your neck, before returning to where it began. Finally, she moved her thumb to your lips, tracing your bottom lip gently. The touch was feather-light, sending a shiver down your spine.

As she leaned down, it became clear that Wanda just wanted to kiss you right there in the back seat - that’s what she had stored for you there. You smiled up at her, your cheeks burning with a scarlet red shade as you looped your arms around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Wanda smiled back, her lips brushing against yours in a way that was soft and teasing, her quiet laugh escaping as she playfully poked your sides.

You kissed her lightly, quick little pecks that made her grin, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with just that. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and steady, and paused for a moment, her eyes holding yours - you could lose yourself in her eyes, the soft green piercing into yours with a tenderness so profound it felt almost unbearable, an intensity that seemed to pull at the very core of your being, leaving you breathless and exposed.

She leaned in, and the kiss started slow—gentle, almost hesitant, like she was savoring the feel of your lips against hers. It was sweet, unhurried, and you felt yourself melting into her, your fingers lightly threading through her hair. But the pace changed, the kiss growing more urgent, more intense. Wanda’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. Her other arm tightened around your waist, holding you firmly against her. The softness gave way to something hotter, hungrier, her lips parting as the kiss turned breathless, consuming. 

You stayed there, kissing, for what felt like an eternity—minutes, hours, it didn’t matter as long as Wanda was with you. You could only focus on the way her lips moved against yours, soft and sure at first, then growing deeper, more insistent. Her tongue brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine as she reached down to grab your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your fingers tangled in her hair, gripping lightly as if to anchor yourself, but it only seemed to spur her on.

Every now and then, the kiss would break, just for a moment, as one of you pressed a wandering kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth, or along their jaw, or to the soft spot just below their ear, or just a playful bite at their bottom lip. 

Her lips trailed down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, and you could feel her smile against you before she returned to your lips, hungry and demanding, exploring and claiming, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of her. 

You stayed like that, kissing, touching, completely lost in each other. The world outside the car seemed to fade into the background, and all that mattered was her—the way her hands held you like you were something precious, the way her lips moved against yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart race.

The night stretched on, neither of you noticing the passage of time, too wrapped up in each other’s embrace to give the rest of the world a second thought. But the moment was interrupted when Wanda’s phone slipped from the seat and hit the car floor with a loud thud. The sound startled you both, and you broke the kiss, laughing as you craned your necks to see where the phone had landed.

When Wanda picked it up, you gasped at the screen—3:45 AM glared back at you. “Oh my god… I had no idea it was that late,” you said, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. 

Wanda chuckled softly, the vibration of her laughter against your skin making you smile. Her free hand found its way to your hair, fingers casually twirling a strand or scratching gently at your scalp in a way that made you melt.

After a few minutes like that, you reluctantly pulled away, insisting that the two of you should pack up and head home. Wanda groaned, complaining about how she never wanted to leave, but she eventually caved, giving in to your logic. 

Soon enough, everything was packed and ready to go.

The drive back to the tower was peaceful in a way you hadn’t expected. You never knew a a relationship could be so intense and sweet at the same time. Wanda’s hand rested on your thigh most of the time, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns just for the comfort that the action offered. The shared playlist playing softly in the background once again, filling the occasional silences that didn’t really need to be filled.

Sleep was already tugging at both of you, soft yawns escaping more frequently as Wanda drove. But maybe it was the music—one of your favorite songs had come on—or the way her fingers were laced with yours, your index finger idly playing with the rings on her hand, that kept you from drifting off completely.

You sighed, the idea of finally getting the sleep you so desperately graved feeling just out of reach.

“What was that for, sweet girl?” Wanda asked gently, her hand already resting on your thigh giving it a light poke.

“I was so sleepy, but now I don’t think I can sleep at all,” you complained, pouting up at her. Wanda chuckled at your dramatics, reaching over to grab the garage remote from the car door.

“We’ll find your sleep, my love. Don’t worry,” she reassured you, her voice soft and teasing. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding along to her words even though you weren’t entirely convinced.

Now, here’s where things started to get a little tricky. It was well past 4 AM, and the two of you were trying to sneak into the tower as quietly as possible. But there were two problems: 1) some of the Avengers, like Steve Rogers, were known to be up before the sun, and 2) others, like Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes, seemed to have a sixth sense for every single movement in the tower, even when they were supposedly asleep.

As much as Wanda loved her teammates—her ugh, she’d have to admit it—found family, she wasn’t exactly in the mood for a full interrogation about why she was coming back so late, why she looked like she’d been “attacked by a bear” (messy clothes, wild hair, and all), or why her girlfriend looked equally disheveled. So, she did her best to walk as lightly as possible, her footsteps barely making a sound.

But, for some reason, the absurdity of the situation had both of you stifling laughter. 

It all went downhill when her jacket, which was still lazily draped over your shoulders, slipped off. The zipper hit the floor with a loud clink, echoing through the quiet hallway like a gong. You promised yourself you wouldn’t laugh. You really did. But the sight of your usually cool, collected, and slightly emo girlfriend tiptoeing through the tower like a spy on a mission just to get away from nosy adults was too much. The contrast between her usual nonchalant demeanor and the sheer ridiculousness of the moment had you biting your lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

Wanda shot you a look, half exasperated, half amused, as she quickly scooped up the jacket. “You’re not helping,” she whispered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“I’m trying!” you whispered back, your shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Wanda rolled her eyes, though the smile on her face gave her away. She held your hand tightly, quietly dragging you down the hallway as if you were on some top-secret mission. 

When a door near her room clicked open, Wanda quickened her pace, pulling you along with her. You couldn’t help but giggle at her exaggerated urgency, even though you knew it was completely unnecessary.

She practically yanked you into her room, instantly closing the door behind you. You immediately threw yourself onto her bed, burying your face in the pillows to muffle your laughter. Wanda stood there, arms crossed, looking completely unamused—though she was trying so hard not to laugh.

Once the laughter finally died down, you rummaged through her drawer and pulled out one of her oversized shirts to wear as pajamas. The familiar comfort of her clothes wrapped around you, and you felt the pull of sleep creeping back in. You and Wanda stood side by side in the bathroom, lazily brushing your teeth, the quiet hum of the tower settling around you.

Wanda finished first, and before you could even ask her to stay with you, she hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. She let out a long, dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into her for a moment before finishing up. You kissed the side of her face as you set your toothbrush next to hers—a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart swell. 

It was your turn to sigh when you finally curled up in Wanda’s arms, her soft blankets draped over you both. Your arms wrapped around each other, and for a moment, you just lay there, breathing in the quiet comfort of being together.

You shared a conversation that might’ve lasted three minutes—less maybe. As one of you  finally dozed off, and the other followed soon after, finally giving in to the exhaustion of the night. You smiled in your sleep, somewhat feeling the steady rise and fall of Wanda’s chest and the warmth of her arms around you, pulling you into the deepest, most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

Before you started dating, Wanda had quickly noticed your insatiable curiosity. You were always asking her questions—about her life, her thoughts, her experiences—and she found it endearing. You’d dive into every little detail she shared, researching things she mentioned just so you could come back with more to talk about. It was cute, the way you were so eager to know every part of her.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to Wanda when she woke up to find you standing in the middle of her room, intently studying the little photo mural she had near her study table. She watched you for a moment, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable as you analyzed every corner of her space.

You’d been in her room a few times before, but most of those visits had been in the dark—escaping from a party she’d convinced you to attend, too caught up in  kissing and taking each other’s clothes to notice the little details. Now, in the soft morning light, you were finally taking it all in: the guitar leaning against the wall, the painting supplies tucked neatly next to her wardrobe, the little trinkets scattered across her shelves.

“You’re very nosy, you know,” Wanda said, her voice soft but teasing, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” You turned to face her, a smile spreading across your face despite the faint pink tinting your cheeks. You hadn’t expected her to be awake.

Wanda grinned at your slightly embarrassed expression, propping herself up on one elbow as she watched you. “You’re being nosy,” she repeated, her tone playful.

“That’s a love language, you know,” you shot back, walking over to the bed with a smirk.

“What? Stalking?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow to tease you further. You nodded, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Yes. It means I like you.”

She let out a fake, dramatic gasp, clutching her chest as if wounded. “Like me?! And here I was thinking you loved me.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, then her nose—which made her scrunch it up in that adorable way you absolutely adored—before finally pressing a soft peck to her lips. Wanda smiled, her hands instinctively finding your waist as you settled into her lap.

“So, you’re nosy, a stalker, and a thief?” she teased, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was checking you out, her gaze lingering on the way her gray sweatpants and black tank top hung loosely on your frame. Even your damp hair smelled like her shampoo.

“You knew all of that before you started dating me,” you fired back, grinning sweetly at her

Wanda chuckled, her hands moving to your hips as she gently swayed you from side to side, her touch playful and affectionate.

“I can’t run away now, hm?” Wanda teased, arching her eyebrows at you with that playful smirk you loved so much.

You quickly shook your head, grinning from ear to ear. “Nooo, no! You can’t,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her again, as if to seal the deal.

Before Wanda could fire back with another quip, a slightly robotic voice interrupted the moment. It was Jarvis, the ever-helpful A.I. that seemed to know everything happening in the Avengers Tower.

“Miss Maximoff, you have been requested in the kitchen for breakfast. Miss Y/L/N as well,” 

You blinked, surprised. “They know I’m here?” you asked, turning to Wanda with wide eyes. Wanda shrugged, her expression a mix of amusement and nonchalance. 

It didn’t take long before the two of you were heading to the kitchen—after Wanda’s whole morning routine, of course, and a few (okay, maybe more than a few) kisses in between. 

You were kind of used to walking around the tower by now—not enough to feel completely at ease wandering alone in the massive building, but enough to find your way to Wanda’s room, the gym, and the garden without getting lost.

But here’s the thing: even though you were somewhat familiar with the place, you’d never been in a room with all of the Avengers at once. Sure, after Wanda dragged you to one of Stark’s infamous parties, you’d met a few of them. There was Clint, who somehow always gave off “cool dad” vibes. Natasha, who you still couldn’t figure out—did she hate you, or was she just like that with everyone? (Wanda assured you it was the latter.) And, of course, Tony Stark himself, the party host. You’d exchanged polite smiles with a few others, but that was about it.

Being in a room with all of them, casually having breakfast? That was an entirely different beast.

You expressed your nerves to Wanda as the two of you walked down the hallway, your fingers tightening around hers. “What if I say something stupid? Or, I don’t know, spill coffee on Captain America?” you whispered, only half-joking.

Wanda chuckled, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They’re just people. And besides, you’ve already survived a Stark party. This is nothing.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but the way Wanda laced her fingers with yours and gave you that soft, encouraging smile made it a little easier to breathe. Still, as you approached the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking into a lion’s den.

But right now, as you sat at the table with a cup of coffee poured by Tony Stark himself, a stack of pancakes offered by Bruce Banner, and an excessive amount of chocolate syrup drizzled over your plate by none other than the God of Thunder, Wanda found herself feeling increasingly uneasy. 

Everything was about you. They wanted to monopolize your time, your attention, your breakfast. They bombarded you with questions: about your life before Wanda, your life with Wanda, your thoughts on global warming, and even your theories on what lies beyond a rainbow. They wanted to know every single little thing about you, it was like they’d collectively decided you were the most fascinating person in the world, and Wanda couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

She tried, though. Oh, she tried. She crossed her arms, pouting like a child, and reached for you every chance she got—your thigh, your arm, your waist, your hands—but every time she managed to steal even the tiniest bit of your attention, someone else would jump in with a question or a story or a joke.

For heaven’s sake, you were her girlfriend. You were in the tower because of her, to have breakfast with her. And now it was all about them.

Even Natasha, who had always been hard to read, seemed to have taken a sudden liking to you. She poured you more coffee, for crying out loud! And Bucky—ugh, don’t even get Wanda started on Bucky—the man who had been silent all breakfasts until the present day, suddenly became way too curious about your life. Wanda made a mental note to hide his fake arm later.

When Sam teased Wanda about “losing her girlfriend to the team,” her eyes flickered red, jealousy flaring up like a wildfire. Sam laughed, clearly getting the reaction he wanted, but he quickly assured her he was just joking. It didn’t help. Wanda gave up on her nearly finished breakfast and decided to keep both hands firmly on your upper arm, as if claiming you back.

But even that wasn’t enough. After a few more minutes of watching you laugh and chat with everyone, Wanda had had it. She stood up abruptly, sighing heavily.

“The questionnaire time is over,” she announced, her voice loud and clear. “If you’ll excuse me, she’ll spend her time alone with me now. Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Her jealous tone made you chuckle, but you didn’t argue. You waved goodbye to the table as Wanda dragged you down the hallway, her grip firm but not unkind. Before you even made it to her room, Wanda had you pinned against the wall in a dimly lit hallway—somewhere you were pretty sure you’d never been before.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, her hands gripping your waist as if to remind you who you belonged to. You smiled into the kiss, knowing full well this was her way of reclaiming you.

“I can’t believe they took all of my breakfast time,” she complained between sweet, lingering pecks on your lips.

“You know I’m all yours,” you smirked, trying not to laugh at the adorable jealousy she couldn’t quite hide.

She nodded, burying her face in your neck, her arms tightening around you. “Mine,” she muttered, her voice muffled but firm.

But as possessive as she was, Wanda couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness underneath it all. She hadn’t planned on introducing you to her found family like this—not so early in your relationship—but seeing how easily you fit in, how naturally you charmed everyone, made her heart swell. You had a way of making her feel comfortable, of making her feel like she belonged, even in her own chaotic world.

As she’d watched you at the table, your lips smudged with chocolate syrup and your hand lazily wrapped around your coffee cup, she realized something: she could never, ever let you go. 

How could she, when you made her feel like a perfect, solved puzzle—like everything in her life finally made sense?

Because when she was with you, she didn't care if things made sense, they always did if she had you by her side.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — CONSTANT AS A RIVER, PERPETUAL AS MOUNTAINS

cw: no pronouns mentioned. just pure cuteness.

High above the forest floor, Kinich perched silently in the upper branches of a towering tree, his body still and balanced like a natural extension of the canopy. Below him, the landscape unfolded into a maze of thick trees, jagged rock faces, and the distant, thunderous roar of the waterfall cascading down the mountain. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and fresh water, the humidity clinging onto everything.

From this height, Kinich had a clear view of the world below—a vantage point that made him feel at home, with the winds sweeping through the treetops and the sway of the branches beneath him. His tribe had long since adapted to this unforgiving landscape, where cliffs loomed, trees stretched endlessly into the sky, and the terrain was as treacherous as it was beautiful. To outsiders, this place was inhospitable. To Kinich, it was perfect.

His sharp eyes followed you, who was on the floor far below, walking with a carefree grace that stood in stark contrast to the harshness of the environment around you. You moved with ease, your steps light as if you danced along the path, humming softly to yourself. Your hair fluttered in the breeze, and every so often, you’d pause to marvel at the way the light filtered through the trees' forms above, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light across your skin.

A small smile tugged at Kinich’s lips as he watched you, hidden from view. There was something magnetic about your presence—how you could bring warmth and life to even the most untamed of places. He admired your resilience and fearlessness, your ability to thrive in a land most would shy away from. Even now, you didn’t seem at all fazed by the singular nature that surrounded you.

From above, he could see how your eyes lit up every time you discovered something new—a strange flower, the movement of a saurian group nearby, or the iridescent glitter of sunlight against the waterfall in the distance. There was a joy to the way you moved, an uninhibited energy that drew him in and made him want to stay and watch you forever.

You suddenly stopped and tilted your head upward, squinting at the towering branches as if you could feel his gaze. “Kinich?” you called out, your voice slightly playful. “I know you’re up there somewhere.”

Kinich smirked, though he didn’t move or answer right away. He stayed hidden, knowing you’d keep searching, your instincts sharp enough to sense when he was near.

Your eyes scanned the treetops, and then your smile grew wider. “Come on. Don’t make me climb all the way up there just to find you,” you complained, putting a hand on your hip. “You know I will.”

That was enough to stir Kinich into action. With the quiet grace of a true Scion of the Canopy, he leaped from the branch he was perched on, landing silently on a lower one before dropping to the ground with barely a sound. Your face lit up when you saw him, eyes sparkling with delight.

“Took you long enough,” you said, closing the distance. Your hands immediately reached for him, fingers curling around his arm as you pulled him close. “Were you watching me the whole time?”

Kinich nodded, his expression calm but the warmth in his eyes gave him away. “You’re hard to miss,” he replied, his voice low. “Especially when you’re singing all the way.”

You giggled, your hand slipping down to entwine with his. “Well, I had a feeling you’d be up there, hiding away like some elusive yumkasaurus. But you know I’ll always find you.”

Kinich tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “I wasn’t hiding,” he said, though there was a subtle playfulness in his tone. “I was... observing.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, bodies almost touching. “Observing, huh?” you murmured, your voice dropping to a whisper. “And did you like what you saw?”

Kinich’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to fade away—the trees, the running river, the steep cliffs. All that mattered was the warmth of your hand in his and how you looked at him, so full of life and love.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a slow and steady kiss, much like him. You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened it, your fingers gently tangling in his hair.

When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, your breath coming in soft, warm puffs against his skin. “You don’t always have to watch from afar, you know,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection. “You can come closer.”

Kinich smiled, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face. “I’m here now,” he said softly, his voice steady as always, but with a tenderness that only you ever got to see. “I’ll always come closer when it’s you.”

.

.

a/n: oh well. i didn't intend to write to him soon but i wanted to gift myself since my birthday is coming and i've been checking his tag for updates more times i should to. come on, my fella writers, where are you?

[daistea]

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[luminiamore]

EX WHO?

ex husband eren yeager x black fem reader

warnings: reader may have gotten pregnant again (she definitely did), ur daughters name is raqi

pt. 2

moodboard

masterlist

“Sweetheart, please let me put your shoes on so I can bring you to your daddy.” You try to tell your gorgeous four-year-old for the fifth time in one minute.

“No, mama! Daddy says he’s coming here because he misses you.”

You observe as she escapes your grasp again after kicking her tiny feet in different directions. You groan both inside and out loud because you have to repeat, “No, he’s not Raqi.” Mommy needs the house to herself tonight-”

“Uhuh, and Uncle Connie is coming too! He’s taking me to, um-Nick- um-” You watch as she looks at you, waiting for you to help her finish her sentence.

You stifle a giggle at her pout, “Nickelodeon?”

“Yeah!! It’s in Spain, mama!”

You heave a sigh once more. It’s not uncommon for Connie to take your daughter on expensive trips such as this. He probably indulged your daughter more than you did. Not more than Eren, though. Even though Eren didn’t live with you, he made sure to come by and see his baby girl every day, even if it was just for five minutes. Each time he came, he would have a new gift in his hand.

Connie gave your daughter gifts like trips, taking her around the world, and first-class only reserved for the princess. As she ages, she definitely won’t be impressed by someone’s son taking her to Miami.

However, Eren spoiled his girl with jewelry, bags, the newest edition of Hello Kitty plushies, and anything else. To be honest, you need to begin the process of finding her a larger room.

You’re not so sure your daughter is lying. It’s unlikely that she would lie about something like this. Your frustration has changed from being directed toward her to your ex-husband for not informing you. This was actually one of the reasons why you guys split up. He would always make plans and decisions regarding your daughter without letting you know first.

Although he didn’t make any bad decisions or put her in danger, it’s upsetting to know that you rarely had any say in what your daughter did, except for the things she wore.

You remember vividly handing him the divorce papers and standing in front of him in shock as he laughed right in your face with mumbles of, ‘Must be crazy’ and ‘Never in a million years.’

And so the divorce was never finalized because he refused to sign the papers, but you and he were through as far as you were concerned. He had no problem letting you run around thinking that, though. It goes without saying that he never took off his wedding ring. Yours has been on for so long that it’s like muscle memory to slip it on every time you go out.

To this day, his Instagram page is filled with pictures of you and only you. Shit, both of your parents still invite you guys over for dinner, and Eren never told them what you presented him with. You absolutely didn’t have the guts to tell them unless he signed those papers.

You didn’t have the guts to prevent your daughter from having a good time and living out her childhood, a chance you, unfortunately, weren’t blessed with.

“Okay, baby. Well, you still have to put your shoes on if you wanna go with Uncle Connie, okay?”

That seemed to do it. Your daughter headed to her bed and began bouncing up and down with joy before finally settling down and waiting for you to put them on.

Just as you were finishing, you heard the doorbell ring. You rise to your feet and fix your silk robe and matching silk bonnet. Kissing your daughter’s head and lifting her up in your arms, you walk barefoot on the cold tile floors of your penthouse— that Eren pays for.

It’s no surprise when you open the door and find the men of the hour. They were matching. Your ex-spouse appears in all his splendor, sporting a gray beanie that conceals his natural hair, a black hoodie, and black sweatpants that match. Connie’s attire was the opposite: a black beanie covering his buzz cut, a grey hoodie, and grey sweatpants that matched.

“Daddy!”

“Baby!”

Your daughter is quick to jump onto her father, and Eren easily catches her. It’s almost impossible to deny how similar they look. It’s as if she left you out of the gene pool altogether. All his facial features were present in her, including his curls, eyes, and face. Her skin color was the only thing you could vouch for.

Eren catches your eyes, and you look away quickly. His stare always gives you an intimidating feeling. You disregard his glance and turn to Connie with a smile, kissing him on his cheek and leading him inside, “Hey, Con.”

He reciprocates the gesture, albeit with a friendly tone. He was aware of how possessive his best friend can be towards you, and he didn’t want to be a part of that today. After playing with your daughter’s flushed cheek, you turn around and leave Eren outside, letting him invite himself in. Your hostility causes him to furrow his brows.

“What, I don’t get a kiss too?”

While still ignoring him, you direct your buzz-cut friend to your child’s room. “There should be a bag already packed with her things in her closet. I know how much you guys love these trips.”

Connie grins and nods. Your daughter demands that Eren put her down and runs after him, yelling that she wants to show him her new plushies. Now, there were only you and Eren in your living room, alone. Great.

It was impossible for you to function when it was just you and him. Eren’s presence always made you nervous and hot. No matter who was present, he always made his attraction to you known. Your daughter thought you were still together for that reason. Eren Yeager was an elusive figure. He was a force to be reckoned with. The feelings you have for him are still harboring, even though you tried to push them away.

They persist, and it doesn’t seem like you made any effort to remove them. You have been separated for a few months now, but you have never attempted to move on. Whenever your friends asked why you never went on a date, you would always answer that you’re ‘just not ready.’ You never actually moved on from him.

Your friends knew it was bullshit, but you would never admit it. You wouldn’t admit to missing him, missing him holding you, sleeping with you, fucking you. You went from getting your fat cunt stuffed every day to only cumming once a week due to a vibrator going high speeds on your clit. Eren knew you weren’t stupid enough to give his pussy away. You knew you weren’t stupid enough to give his pussy away.

Eren, of course, would never move on from you, either. He genuinely doesn’t believe that you two are separated, as you’re still together in his mind. You will be his forever.

He slowly stalks towards you, watching you intently focus on the wall. You probably hoped he would disappear if you didn’t pay him any mind. He knew how your mind worked.

“M’still waiting on my kiss, mama.” He raises your chin towards him when he reaches you, and his green eyes don’t skip over the little bra you had on beneath your lace robe.

“Eren, move.” You glare at him, but it really isn’t doing much but making him hard.

“Wassup with you?”

“You! You are ‘wassup’ with me.” You whisper so as not to alert Connie and your daughter in the next room. You try to match his tone, lowering yours in pitch.

“What did I do, baby?” His deep voice speaking to you like this always makes you squirm, but you suppress it to express your anger at him.

“Don’t call me that. How many times do I have to tell you to let me know when you make plans to take our daughter somewhere.” You grit your teeth.

He simply gives a sly smile, “Are you really upset about that?”

Once again, he pretends it’s not significant. You’re not even asking for much. Is it really a death sentence for him to inform you of where your daughter might be going? Why do you always end up being the last one to learn? You believe it’s not difficult to give you a week’s notice. You won’t have to be worried about looking silly when your daughter tells you. You don’t think it’s fair to you at all.

“I trust Connie, and I trust you with our daughter, but I just want to know where she’s going. Preferably before she goes! That’s all I ask for, Eren. You can’t keep doing-”

“Are you mad at daddy, mommy?”

You freeze.

Your daughter rested on Connie’s back as he held her mini Disney Princess suitcase. She was gazing at you with a pout, and you didn’t want to be the one to put that expression on her face. You’re about to respond when Eren suddenly opens his mouth, condescending tone and all,

“Yeah, mama. Are you mad at me?”

You try and force a smile for the sake of your daughter, even though every part of you wants to wring your ex-husband’s neck.

“No, baby. Are you ready to leave with Uncle Connie now?” As if it were never there, the frown is replaced by a fit of giggles, a bright smile, and a frantic nod of her head.

Connie gives your daughter a small rub on her head, “We should head out now. The flight’s in two hours, and we don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You hurriedly nod and lead them both to the front door. Your daughter is smothered with kisses after you hug her and whisper a sweet ‘I love you.’ Eren presents your daughter with a mini Chanel box just before Connie puts Raqi in the child’s seat in the backseat of his Scat. You manage to make out his little whisper to her, ‘Don’t open it until tomorrow. Daddy loves you.’

Together, you love them, and you have no regrets about giving this man a child. It’s something you could never regret. Marrying him wasn’t a regret for you either; truly, he treated you like a princess. It’s just that you want him to dedicate more time to you.

Eren spent a lot of time outside before having your baby, whether it was with his friends or his job. He was always dedicated to providing you with everything you needed, but you never asked for any of those tangible things. The only thing you wanted was your husband. It took you some time to communicate your feelings to him, but eventually you did.

As a person who was understanding, he listened. For approximately a week, before he did the same shit again. You were worn out and reached a point where you couldn’t keep going any further. Although Eren wouldn’t give you the divorce you wanted, he was accommodating and allowed you to move out of his home. Provided that he will get the apartment and pay your rent. ‘Safety measures,’ he calls them.

Even now, Eren still acts as though you’re married, and you still pretend that it’s bothering you. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear your door slam shut, with Eren still inside your house.

“You really mad at me, mama?”

You merely sigh, “Eren, why are you still here?”

With his hands on either side of you, he stands in front of you while your body presses flush against the front door. You feel a slight tingle, aware that you’re inhaling the same air as this man. You give a quick glance at his pink lips and hope you look away swiftly enough so he doesn’t notice. He does.

His lips curl, and his voice becomes low and breathless when he speaks again, “Answer me, baby.”

You sense that Eren is talking about more than today for some reason. He’s talking about everything that led up to it, including his absence and negligence. He’s asking if you’re still upset about the way he influenced you to want to divorce him.

A tear that you didn’t even realize was forming slips down your face. Eren doesn’t miss a beat when wiping it away with his thumb and delicately kissing your cheek as well.

You whisper shakily, “I don’t want to be. B-But you make it so hard, Ren.”

Ren. You called him Ren. He fails to recall the last time he heard the nickname you gave him flutter past your pretty lips. He derives pleasure from it and longs to listen to it again.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mama. You have to believe me. I never want to see you cry, baby. And I’m so sorry for making you feel like this.”

You attempt to move away, but he grasps your hands tightly, causing you to remain still. He understands your struggle, but you don’t trust him. And you’re trying to run away from him again. Eren has apologized before, but he wants you to acknowledge his apologies this time.

He kisses your cheek again, “I’m not working as much anymore, and I even cut back on dealing. I’m sorry I didn’t get it before. I know you just wanted me to spend more time with you, and I swear I’ll make it happen. Just take me back, please.”

Another kiss, this time on your neck, “I miss you so much, mama.”

Your breathing is intensifying, and your hold on him is gradually diminishing. “Ren, please. I- I can’t.”

“Let me make it up to you, hm? Show you how much I missed you. Let me, mama.”

You’re so weak, you scold yourself. So, so weak. He shouldn’t be able to get you like this easily. It shouldn’t be this easy for him to slip off your robe, letting it fall on the cold floor. You should have more resistance. You should make him work for it.

But how can you? 

How can you resist when he’s on his knees, letting his tongue push in and out of your wet hole, unashamedly moaning as you twitch and buck your hips into his mouth. He’s entirely too nasty and too careless when he laps up everything your addictive pussy is pouring into his awaiting mouth.

You’re shaking, your body shivering so much you have goosebumps everywhere. He just doesn’t let up. Each time you try and push away from his pleasurable onslaught, it’s just,

“Quiet, mama. Daddy can’t make it up to you if you’re running from him.”

Your eyes are starting to hurt so much from the way you’re rolling them back into your skull. You’re heaving, squealing when he suckles harshly on your poor clit. Not even your vibrator made you feel this good. 

“G-Gonna cum- Ah! Oh fuck, Rennie!”

You hear the slurping sounds as he eats you, and he never once removes himself from your cunt as he whispers, “Not my name, mama.”

God, you can feel the vibrations, can feel his long tongue covering every crevice inside of you. You grip his head, his beanie barely hanging onto him with how much you both are moving. You wail when he inserts two fingers in at once after he slips his tongue out of you, a precious and weak “Daddy- shit!” released into the air.

He hums against you, against your wet mound, and for some reason, that’s what pushes you over the edge. Your stomach clenches, and your entire being feels like it’s being set alight when you cum on his big fingers. Eren swears he’s fallen in love all over again. It’s been months since he’s tasted you, tasted your sweet cream. He’s missed it. God, he missed you.

As soon as he senses you’re too weak to stand on your own, he rises to his feet and immediately lifts you up by your legs. His lips are brushing against yours now, still wet from your essence.

“You never gave me that kiss. C’mon, baby, kiss me.”

And you do, moaning when you immediately taste yourself. Your breath caught in his mouth as he pushed your legs back against the wall, and he didn’t hesitate to swallow your sounds, sucking your tongue and biting your blushed lips.

Time slows when Eren finally pulls his sweats down and nudges his fat cock in you. He’s holding you so gently like you’ll break in any moment, and honestly, you feel like you will. It’s been so long, so long since you had something this big stretching you out. You can’t help but whimper out pretty cries of ‘Daddy!’ or ‘Rennie!’ against his panting mouth.

You’re so stuffed. So full that you can’t think of anything but how good he feels, how good this intense euphoria streaming through your body feels.

Eren is the same. He’s fisted his cock red to thoughts of having you like this once more. You were the only one who could ever make him feel like a wimp whenever he fucked you. Your pussy just feels so perfect, squeezing around him so tight, like you want him to put another baby in you. Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

He gives you slow, deep strokes that make you keen. The sound of his voice is groggy and slurred as he grunts against your throat, “God, you feel so good. Please, baby, forgive me. Say you’ll take me back. Say it. Say it.”

Through your haze, you still manage to have a few brain cells still working, barely. You’re trying to speak out, but every time his hips press flush against your own, it’s like your breath gets caught in your throat. Still, you stutter out,

“C-Can’t- Hah! Oh, right there!”

“You know I’ll never leave you alone. I can’t, mama. Rather die before I ever let you go. I’ll get on my knees again if I have to, baby.” He sounds so pretty, begging for your forgiveness like this. You don’t know how long you can hold out. You’re not sure you even can.

“You’re c-crazy.” You utter, completely breathless, when he hits your g-spot.

Eren’s response is immediate when he reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles, “For you. Crazy for you.”

Whining, your squirt splashes all over his hoodie, and your body is twitching because it won’t stop. Your supposed ex-spouse groans as he spills his seed past your splashing pussy lips, right into your womb, while whispering unsteadily, ‘I love you so much.’ Shakenly, you pull his face toward yours and kiss him, drool pouring out of both your lips. It’s almost as if you’re trying to devour each other.

When you reluctantly pull away from his lips, he speaks once again, “Please, I need you. Just want you in my arms again, mama.”

You sigh, and honestly too exhausted to argue against him, you answer,

“If you start going back to your old habits, Eren-”

“I won’t. Swear on my life- on our daughter.”

You hum, fingers now combing through his loose curls. You gasp against his lips, feeling him shift inside you, “I love you too, Ren. Always did.”

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o financially struggling behind them

Request: What if ot13 with s/o that financially struggle behind them?? -⭐

Protective & Help

Seungcheol: The most protective about it. He’d never make a big deal but would always make sure you’re taken care of. If he notices you hesitating to buy something, he’ll say, “I got it, don’t worry.” He might also send you money like, “Oops, I accidentally transferred too much. Guess you have to keep it.” HE DID IT ON PURPOSE.

Wonwoo: He’s super observant, so he’ll notice things you don’t say out loud. If he sees you skipping meals to save money, he’ll just bring food over without making a fuss. If your phone or laptop is old and glitchy, he’ll be like, “I upgraded mine, you can take this one” (he bought a new one just for this excuse).

Woozi: Acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s always thinking about your comfort. If you stress over bills, he’ll normally pay for things and say it’s because “I just wanted to spoil you.” He also encourages you to pursue your passions, reminding you that your worth isn’t tied to money. (And he's RICH rich).

Minghao: Lowkey but very intentional. He doesn’t want you to feel burdened, so he’ll support you in classy ways. If he sees you working too hard, he’ll treat you to a spa day. He also teaches you financial tips so you don’t struggle alone.

Spoil You Without Making You Feel Guilty

Jeonghan: Master of sneaky generosity. If you say you can’t afford something, he’ll find a way to gift it to you later. “Oh, this? I won it in a game. You can have it.” HE DIDN’T WIN IT, HE BOUGHT IT FOR YOU. If you struggle with rent or bills, he’ll sneakily slip extra money into your bag with a little note: Because I love you, sweetie.

Joshua: He’s so gentle about it 🥹 If you hesitate to accept his help, he’ll remind you, “Relationships aren’t about money. Let me take care of you sometimes.” He’d rather see you comfortable than struggling. Also, huge on acts of service—he’ll help you plan your budget or find side gigs to make things easier.

Dokyeom: Gives without expecting anything back. If you feel bad about him paying, he’ll be like, “But you make me happy, so we’re even.” 😭 He’ll always bring you food, take you on fun free dates, and remind you that your value isn’t measured by wealth.

Mingyu: LOVES spoiling you but never makes you feel bad about it. If you say, “I don’t want you spending money on me,” he’ll pout like, “But it makes me happy to see you happy.” He’ll cook for you, buy you cute things, and pay for stuff behind your back (you’ll only notice when the bill is already settled).

Motivate & Hustle With You

Hoshi: Instead of just helping you, he’ll hustle with you. If you’re struggling financially, he’ll figure this out together. He’ll cheer you on, help you find better opportunities, and celebrate every little success. “You paid off a bill? LET’S GO GET CAKE!” He believes in you 100%.

Seungkwan: He’d be really emotional about it because he hates seeing you stressed. He’ll find ways to uplift you, whether it’s sending cute motivational texts or finding ways to ease your burden. “Let’s meal prep together so you don’t have to spend on takeout.” He makes sure you never feel alone in your struggles.

Dino: Wants to prove that money doesn’t define love. If he knows you’re struggling, he’ll focus on making amazing memories together that don’t cost anything. He’ll say things like, “Let’s have fun in our own way.” Even if he deep down wants to spoil you, he’ll respect your pride and support you in other ways.

Reassure You That Love > Money

Jun: Very emotionally supportive. If you ever feel bad about not having as much money, he’ll tell you that it doesn’t change how he sees you. “You’re still the same person I love.” He’ll celebrate small joys with you, making sure you never feel ‘’less than’ just because of finances.

Vernon: He never makes a big deal about money. If you feel insecure about not being able to afford things, he’ll remind you, “I’m with you because of who you are, not what you have.” He’d rather have deep convos and simple moments with you than anything expensive.

[vixstarria]

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.  

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion 

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut 

Approximately 1,600 words. 

AO3

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.  

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.  

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.” 

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.  

“I love you.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.  

What were you to do with him now?  

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.  

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been. 

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.  

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

 

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.  

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

 

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.  

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he said. 

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much. 

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious. 

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.  

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could. 

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.” 

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.  

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

 

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common. 

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.  

“Especially not hear!”

 

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said. 

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?” 

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.   

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. 

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.  

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.  

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.” 

He just chuckled in response. 

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.” 

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.” 

“Shut up and let me cherish you.” 

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone. 

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly. 

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.  

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.  

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars. 

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you. 

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...” 

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection. 

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped. 

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.  

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged. 

“Go ahead,” he groaned. 

“Not without you.” 

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.  

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”  

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes. 

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.” 

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.  

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence. 

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?” 

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.” 

He lifted your chin for a kiss. 

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.  

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.” 

You needed to clear your head too.  

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together. 

~~~~~ 

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.  

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats. 

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris. 

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo. 

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more. 

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds. 

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it. 

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners. 

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder. 

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up. 

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!” 

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy. 

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute. 

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since. 

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this. 

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like. 

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen. 

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house. 

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them. 

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot. 

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing. 

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list. 

Fix things with you. 

He would. Oh, he would. 

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?” 

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count. 

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.” 

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.” 

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.” 

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked. 

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said. 

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating. 

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this. 

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened. 

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said. 

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added. 

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him. 

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place. 

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed. 

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud. 

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.” 

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective. 

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?” 

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?” 

“Know what?” you pressed. 

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…” 

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out. 

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.” 

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.” 

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over. 

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint. 

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen. 

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups. 

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never. 

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?” 

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately. 

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club. 

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started. 

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate. 

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line. 

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time. 

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.” 

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly. 

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated. 

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation. 

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him. 

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay. 

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot. 

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.” 

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt. 

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office. 

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority. 

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice. 

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief. 

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you. 

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side. 

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up. 

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly. 

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face. 

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you. 

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?” 

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.” 

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?” 

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.” 

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!” 

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him. 

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave. 

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.” 

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened. 

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.” 

Roy leant towards you instinctually. 

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely. 

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.” 

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams. 

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong. 

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out. 

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.” 

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this. 

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you. 

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else. 

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully. 

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t. 

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.” 

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.” 

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips. 

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind. 

Almost there. Almost on you. 

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much. 

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you. 

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving. 

You’d been here before so many times. 

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely. 

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.” 

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm. 

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly. 

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.” 

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure. 

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses. 

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure. 

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way. 

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?” 

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?” 

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday. 

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it. 

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too. 

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.” 

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance. 

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good. 

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.” 

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly. 

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion. 

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips. 

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin. 

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out. 

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake. 

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times. 

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up. 

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window. 

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to. 

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved. 

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match. 

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car. 

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium. 

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine. 

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up. 

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms. 

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all. 

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper. 

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly. 

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly. 

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.” 

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy. 

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible. 

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box. 

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied. 

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?” 

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could. 

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly. 

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?” 

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned. 

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar. 

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands. 

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley. 

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better). 

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City. 

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt. 

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row. 

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral. 

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!” 

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.” 

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong. 

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create. 

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation. 

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca. 

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively. 

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.” 

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that. 

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken. 

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly. 

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours. 

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet. 

“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.” 

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.” 

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly. 

And then, that all went away. 

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be. 

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?” 

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back. 

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated. 

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething. 

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer. 

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally. 

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?” 

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father. 

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing. 

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it. 

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves. 

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously. 

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously. 

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face. 

And it felt fantastic. 

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter. 

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that. 

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you. 

“You ok?” he whispered. 

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat. 

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question. 

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed. 

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace. 

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered. 

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place. 

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you. 

Another threat. What a fucking joke. 

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker! 

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team. 

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him. 

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently. 

“It’s fine,” you lied. 

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!” 

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.” 

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt. 

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room. 

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure. 

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile. 

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.” 

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

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[i-love-ptv]

He Loves My Heart-Shaped Sunglasses

Felix Catton x Fem! Reader

You and Felix spend Valentine’s Day together. <3

Smut (lowk filthy) + Fluff

Wc: 2,550

An: Wanted to post this before v day, but i got sidetracked, thankfully pushed it out before the day ended :3

February 14th.

The day of love.

The day to show your special someone how much you care for them.

The day that’ll bring out the joy and excitement out of most, but will also bring out the bitter feelings of some.

Felix has never really favored Valentine’s day. He may be a soft romantic now; a year into your relationship, but before, he was used to hookups that led to his lonesome morning after. Hence why it was so hard for him to ask you out last year on this very day.

He spent hours in different shops; trying to find the perfect gifts for you. Obviously, this process would’ve gone by quicker if Venetia didn’t get distracted by the hundreds of soft stuffed animals every few minutes, and if Farleigh had even went.

“Please Farleigh! Surely you can help me! You know more about these things than I do!”

“No can do lover boy, besides, you have Vee going with you.” Farleigh had said with an amused smirk.

After a little more of groveling and begging on Felix’s end, Farleigh still didn’t budge. The fact that Felix had said that he wanted to “woo” you, hadn’t helped his case either.

The beaming lights of the shops reflecting off of the bright pinks and reds had Felix’s head starting to ache.

He had settled on getting you a bouquet of red roses, a basket of your favorite snacks, and some other little goodies.

That day when you saw one singular rose on your desk in your english class, the last person you expected to be nervously glancing in your direction was Felix.

After a long, panic-filled conversation with the blubbering boy, you two had finally become official, and Felix swears to this day, that it was the best day of his entire life.

Now, Felix has gotten a bit better at buying gifts for you. He knows you like the back of his tattooed hand. But he can’t help but feel nervous to see you this morning. After all, you only have one, one year anniversary with your love.

Felix observed as the other students of Oxford were handing out gifts to their significant others. Felix couldn’t help but think about how his presents for you were far more superior to everyone else’s.

He had been so distracted, that he hadn’t noticed you walking up.

You tapped on his shoulder and he had nearly leaped out of his skin.

He quickly realizes who is in front of him, and grips you up like you were light as a feather.

“Angel! Oh my goodness you startled me! Happy anniversary sweet girl!” Felix says grinning, like he was looking at the brightest star in the galaxy.

“Happy anniversary my love,” you return through your giggles.

“Here! Here! Open the gifts I bought for you honey!” Felix rushes out as he’s pushing the bags into your hands.

You jokingly chide him for nearly knocking your things out of your hands, but quickly start digging through one of the bags.

He had given you one of his sweaters, a pair of heels you had been eyeing in town, a few other items, and most importantly, a beautiful ring covered in diamonds.

“S’not an engagement ring, not yet anyways, but a promise ring, because I promise to love you always and forever. Tha’s a bit too cheesy, isn’t it? Sorry, I had this whole thing I was going to say but-“

You cut his rambling off with a deep kiss to his rosy lips.

“Thank you Felix, I love it with my whole heart, baby.”You say while pulling away breathlessly.

Felix’s face started to hurt from the constant smiling, but the thought of that flew out the window as he remembered that you had gotten him something.

Felix had practically ripped through the big box you gave him; feeling like he was about to burst at the seems. You smile softly, imagining him with a wagging tail and perked up puppy ears.

You had bought a few articles of clothing, more cologne, a new book that he said he had been interested in reading, and of course, a stunning bracelet, that matched the exact same on dangling on your wrist.

After many more kisses, hugs, and sugary sweet words exchanged between the two of you, you both head to class.

Felix was counting down the minutes until he could see your dazzling face in front of him again. His class felt as if it had been going on for hours, and the fact that he couldn’t focus on his lesson for even a few minutes while thinking about you, wasn’t helping. His mind was drifting to what he had planned for the two of you later tonight.

You, on the other hand, were on the same boat as Felix.

All that consumed your mind was Felix; you’re sweet, dashing Felix.

You’re suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by your professor, who had agitatedly started lecturing you on the importance of focusing on class.

And finally, after multiple grueling hours, and a heated make-out session in a storage closet, classes for today were over.

Felix suggested that you two go into town, and go on a date to the cafe you both loved. At this point, it was your guys’ cafe; your designated spot, where you both can run away from the world and just enjoy one another.

After spending hours, which seemed like minutes, in the cafe, and throughout town, the two of you settle on going back to your dorm.

Normally, the two of you just go to Felix’s dorm, but his was still somewhat airing out from the smoke session you two had the night prior.

Although, the idea of you two walking through town sounded romantic at the time, you hadn’t thought into how long you two would be walking.

“‘Lex?” You call out softly. Felix immediately turns to you.

“Can you carry me? M’feet hurt honey.” You say with a slight pout, to get your point across.

Felix, of course, being the amazing boyfriend he is, quickly picks you up, bridal-style and carries you back.

You ask him multiple times if he was alright carrying you for so long, but after his reassurance and light nip to your nose, your worries are put to rest.

The two of you eventually settle on your bed, and you curl against Felix’s warm body.

“Wait, darling, I forgot a few things at my dorm,” Felix rushes out.

“Mmm, no ‘Lex, stay with me”

“It’ll only be a minute angel, I promise.”

Felix nearly doesn’t have the heart to pull you off of him, but he can’t afford to keep you from your final gift for much longer.

He leaves with a quick kiss to your forehead and nose, and goes to retrieve the items from his dorm.

He comes back and spots you sitting up on the bed with what he thinks is nothing, but his shirt on, and strawberries. You had also opted for a can of whipped cream, instead of melted chocolate, because after last time, you didn’t want to endure the process of the chocolate staining your white sheets, and hardening as you two tried to use it.

“Wha’s this baby?” Felix says with a smirk as he inches towards you.

You feel his warm, hand on your calf as he reaches you.

“What? Did you really think we were going to go without some fun on our anniversary baby?” You say while looking up at him with longing.

“Unwrap your gift, Felix.”

The brunette boy wastes no time in stripping you from his your shirt.

There, he sees, the lacy brown lingerie covering your body; the brown being almost, if not fully, identical to the color of his dark brown irises.

Felix kisses your neck, leaving no area of skin unmarked with purple bruises.

“Mm, wait” He says as he leaves behind a slight strain on saliva on your flesh.

“Oh my god Felix, seriously?” You say with slight annoyance.

“Relax. I have something for you.” Felix chides.

Felix pulls out a box, containing a necklace; with his initials on it.

“D’you like it baby? I think it’ll be perfect, tha’way none of those other boys could even think they could have a chance with you.”

“Why boys, Felix?” You ask slyly, trying to push his buttons a bit.

“I say boys because, my angel..They could never fuck you like I do…Like a man.” He says lowly, showcasing the bass in his silky smooth voice.

You let out a whine at this; loving when he gets possessive over you, “put it on me Felix, claim me.” You purr.

He moves your hair out of his way, and puts the necklace around your neck, subtly grinding his hard, pulsing cock against the little fabric you had covering your cunt.

You let out a sigh, as Felix moans lowly in your love-bitten ear.

He then grabs a strawberry and stuffs it gently between your lips, making you bite down on it.

The juices trickle down your chin as he moves the fruit around inside of your mouth. He licks a stripe up from your throat to right below your lips.

He goes back and leaves a bite on your throat, making you tilt you head back with a sharp moan, giving him more access.

Felix kisses you roughly as he grabs the whipped cream. He squirts a line of the sweet cream onto your navel; watching it slowly glide down to your soaked core.

“God…’Lex don’t tease me,” you whimper meekly.

“But y’taste s’sweet, lovie.” Felix says, letting out a giggle that makes your pussy clench.

“Oh look at you, m’dirty little thing. Clenchin’ around nothin’,” Felix says smugly as he kisses down your warm body.

Abruptly, Felix dips down and licks a stripe up your achy cunt.

“Fuck ‘Lex!”

Felix grins at your shriek, as he presses sloppy kisses to your clit.

“…I thought I told you to stop teasing me baby,” you say, pushing his head down onto your cunt, prompting him to start licking and sucking where you want him to.

Your back arches off the bed as you squeal in ecstasy. You grab Felix’s hair with both hands roughly; he moans at this, which sends shockwaves through your body.

Felix fucks you with his tongue for what feels like hours, sticking his tongue in and out of your pulsing hole.

Felix feels your thighs trembling, making it clear that you’re close to reaching your climax.

Felix removes his mouth with a slick pop and a charming smile, making you cry out.

“Wait! Wait no. ‘Lex, why’d you stop? Baby. Baby please I need it. Put it back please-“

“Shhh, angel. M’gonna give you somethin’ better. Gonna give you this cock. Tha’s what you wanted, right?” Felix says pressing his lips to yours, again, and again.

Felix continues kissing you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, pulling out his stiff dick.

He rubs the tip against your folds, watching his precum drip against your wetness.

“Mmm, y’ready f’me sweetheart?”

“Please, please, please ‘Lex. I’ll be so good! So so good, I promise! Please give it to me! I need it!” You shout eagerly.

“God, you make me feel whole,” Felix says as he slowly pushes his cock into your heat.

“Thank you ‘Lex! Thank you! Oh fuck!”

Felix almost immediately starts thrusting in and out of you roughly, opening your legs wider as he plants his feet.

“Fuck babe! I swear y’made f’me. I thank any ‘n every god tha’ led us to each other, honey.” Felix says with a delicious groan.

“Shit! God that’s it baby. Don’t stop!” You say, reaching down to start toying with your clit.

Felix nips at your fingers; having noticed your dainty fingers rubbing circles. Silently ordering you to quit it.

You wrap your legs around his meaty torso tightly as he flicks at your puffy pussy.

“Oh! O’fuck! Right there! Mhm!” Felix feels as if he’s consuming your moans, picking up his already brutal pace to absolutely abuse your cunt. His main goal being to make you squirm in ways only he can.

“Uh huh? Yeah y’like that angel? Feels- oh f-fuck. Feels good doesn’it?”

Felix lets out more deep groans, with the occasional whine.

“‘Lex. ‘Lex, baby. M’cumming.” You rush out breathlessly.

“M’right there with y’baby, m’right here. Just, fuck, wait a second..Wanna come together, beautiful.” Felix says panting.

The only noises to be heard in the somewhat small dorm are the moans and gasps of two passionate lovers, and the squeaks and banging from the plush bed.

In any other scenario, you’d be pressing your hand around your mouth, stressing to Felix about the importance of staying quiet; not wanting to get more noise complaints. But right now, you could barely even think about where you are; focusing only on the circles being rubbed on your glistening cunt, and the feeling of Felix’s warm, almost candle-lit hot limbs touching yours.

Felix’s pace begins to falter, growing sloppier and sloppier with every thrust, showing signs of Felix nearing his blissful end.

“Yes! Fuck yes! Come f’me angel, please! Give it t’me! C’mon, y’know y’can, here hold m’hand.” Felix says, reaching his clammy hand to your already sweaty one.

“F-fuck! ‘Lex!”

In the span of seconds, the two of you are coming undone together, gripping each other’s hand so tightly.

You feel your climax shake through your entire body, making you jerk against Felix’s hold, as he tries to keep himself together.

Felix collapses softly next to you with a soft “holy shit,” making sure not to startle you in your hazy state.

He brushes the hair from your moist skin and peppers feather-like kisses onto your face, collarbone, and scalp; helping you calm down from your high.

You look at him bleary eyed, taking account of his wobbly smiles as he tries to catch his breath.

‘Does he ever stop smiling?’ You think to yourself.

“Hi honey,” Felix whispers.

“Hi baby,” you whisper back with a giggle.

“Y’so gorgeous, y’know that, angel?” He says, after softly pulling out and snuggling closer to you with a blanket.

“So i’ve been told,” you say, blinking sleepily.

“Wait, sweetheart. Y’can’t sleep yet! I gotta clean you up!” Felix says in a hurry, jumping out from underneath the blanket. He quickly walks over to his desk, which has a pack of wipes on it, and he finds a towel on his dresser.

You fight sleep, as Felix softly wipes you, making sure not to put too much pressure on your already sore cunt.

He sits you up a bit, putting on of his cozy sweatshirts on your frame and gently lays you back down.

He quickly puts a pair of boxers on once he hears your soft whines, begging for him to cuddle you.

He lays down and drapes your body on top of his.

The last thing you feel before drifting off is a sweet kiss being pressed onto your forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s Day lovie..and most importantly, happy one year anniversary.”

feedback always appreciated bb <3

[aggieharkness]

And in her arms, she cradled your heart Chp. 2

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: With the tests saying that there's a baby on the way there is nothing else for you and Lilia to do but to go absolutely insane with worry and bring Jen into the mix hoping that she would tell you both what to expect and if there is indeed a little life waiting to be born.

Warnings: pregnancy, age gap, magical conception, mention of female body parts, mention/implied issues with body weight. I don't think there's anything else that needs to go here, for now.

Author's note: Here you have chapter two of this lovely story that I'm having so much fun writing. Special shout-out to @bravewithacapitalb for being my Beta Reader and my medical advisor for this whole project. You are an angel. I haven't written pregnancies in a while, so please be gentle but tell me how it looks, if you like it and all that. I accept constructive criticism, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'll add it to the best extent I can. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Chp. 1 Chp. 3

Word count: 15K

I carry your love nestled under my heart

Jen stayed true to her word and showed up at the shop in under ten minutes. Lilia had not moved from her spot in her favourite armchair, her head feeling fuzzy and almost as if she was floating on a cloud. Part of her was absolutely ecstatic, as if nothing in the world could surpass these emotions of love and happiness, but there was also part of her that still doubted it all. Five tests were enough proof but how was one supposed to believe in something that she could not see that she could not yet feel? Her body had given her signals that something was going on, but she had ignored them, all the answers that she could come up with to explain them improbable or impossible in her opinion, after all, what woman didn’t experience tenderness on her breasts at least once every few months for no apparent reason or suddenly develop new tastes on foods and such. She had simply moved on. But then she had felt that spark of magic through your hand, that undeniable power that came from spontaneous creation, from a life forming deep within her, and it was so hard not to believe, not to let her heart burst with such unbridled joy that she feared she might explode. Everything was still terribly confusing, the sudden change in her day leaving her a bit unsteady on her feet, though she wasn’t worried about falling; you were there with her after all.

And to say that your nerves weren’t all over the place would be a lie, a big fat lie, your heart hammering against your ribs as you paced up and down the room. It was as if two different worlds were colliding inside your home; the shocked but calm one of Lilia and the rushing and panicking one that was yours, a whirlwind of emotions bolting inside your chest and head as if they were on a rollercoaster. Every few seconds your eyes observed your love, still perched on her armchair, noticing the way her fingers absentmindedly twirled the fabric of her gown around her stomach, her deep brown eyes glazed as she seemed to be deep in thought. The only thing you wanted was to know what it was that was running through her head, if she was as terrified as you were. Of course, she was, she had to be, she was pregnant, the tests said that she was pregnant, her body had been telling you both that something was going on and neither of you had listened. You were thankful you didn’t work as a nurse; you would have felt rather stupid to not have seen the signs, but then again, what were the signs?! You had only seen pregnancy on TV and films, and most of the time it was represented in such a fairytale like way that one would think having a baby was as easy as simply opening one’s eyes and puff, a baby in your arms, but then again the rest of the time it was represented as if it was a life-sucking illness, and you could hardly think of Lilia’s current situation as life-threatening. So, you could not rely on that.

Hearing the ruffling of fabric beside you your pacing was interrupted by Lilia standing up and heading your way. Did she have blood in her veins or was it milk because you just couldn’t understand how she was so collected, so chill when you were about to have a stroke if you didn’t get your heartbeats under control? You could almost feel your blood pressure rising, a pulsating feeling in your brow, your breaths hurried and uneven. You didn’t want her to think that you regretted this, that you didn’t want to have a baby with her, you most certainly did, but the risks, all the horrible things that could happen to her just kept popping into your head, clouding your vision and judgment. So much could go wrong, she could suffer from so many health problems and you just didn’t think that you could handle her being in pain or even lose her. She meant too much to you, she was your entire world but then again if something happened to the baby you didn’t think Lilia would survive it. Everything could go wrong, and you would be left alone mourning them both, and your heart just could not deal with it, practically about to leap out of your chest. Oh, shit, you were having a panic attack. Lilia’s hands shot out to grab you by the arms, talking to you in hushed voices, the citrusy aroma of her shampoo along with the vanilla from the tea, mixing and filling your lungs, the feeling of her warm skin on yours serving as a grounding point.

-Y/N, listen to my voice, look at me, baby, look at me. – your eyes were moving from side to side unable to focus on her, unable to focus on anything as the fear and terror, all the what ifs that could cross your mind, fuelled your erratic emotions. Seeing that her words were not getting through she grabbed your face a bit more roughly than she would have wanted and forced your eyes to meet hers. – That’s it, look at me, just look at my eyes. Concentrate simply on me.

They were so big, so tender and gentle, full of love with each movement of her pupils, with each slight twitching as she tried her best to hold your piercing gaze. Lilia had always been so expressive, her features giving away every thought, every feeling that was coursing through her veins, and those eyes of hers spoke to you on so many different levels. They were comforting in their infinite wisdom, caring with their loving gaze, grounding with the determination and calmness that always seemed to surround her, like an aura of simple relaxation. You supposed that time had shaped her like that, into this steady force that your fingers were holding onto, allowing you to fall inside her deep brown eyes, a void of warmth enfolding your entire being. You recognised Lilia’s magic, her kind tendrils of golden power intertwining with your chaotic sage ones, the lights in the room flickering in your panicked state. She had your full attention now, holding you in place with very little effort, so she took the chance and removed one of her hands from your face, gently guiding your palm to her chest. Under your fingertips the soft satin of her dress slid like water, the heat of her palm caressing your fingers as you felt the steady rhythm of her heart, the way the swell of her breast forced your hand to raise and fall with every breath she took, serene, kind in its execution.

Her voice, soft as velvet, coached you to follow her breathing pattern, to try and follow her hoping that you wouldn’t hyperventilate. In and out. In and out. The dizziness that had started to bloom in your head released its grip slowly, leaving your body shaking slightly, but at least your lungs were getting the oxygen they required, the intrusive thoughts that were plaguing your mind vanishing in a cloud of golden promises and reassurances. She was the one supposed to be losing her mind, she had told you before, and yet here you were, shitting bricks and giving yourself mini heart attacks for no reason. If Lilia was this serene about it all, why were you going insane with worry? Was this going to be the new way you were going to live your life, absolutely panicked about every little thing? You couldn’t understand how fathers or partners didn’t end up in the grave before their kid was born. But moving your eyes from where your hand was on her chest, your breaths becoming almost as steady as hers, towards her face you saw this glow, this blush on her cheeks, a sparkle in her eyes that washed away every thought you had. You had to be her rock, her best support through it all, you could not fall apart. The pressure that had built in your chest had vanished mostly, leaving only a slight discomfort on your left side that you were sure would pass.

-Are you okay?

-Yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.

-You panicked, which is perfectly understandable. – she still held your hand against her chest even if your breaths had calmed down significantly, while with the other one, she caressed the hair on the side of your head, her thumb rubbing circles on your cheekbone. It was a comforting motion, a gesture so normal that her hands were doing it almost of their own accord. - Neither of us realised this could actually happen. I thought it would be years before we could actually try.  

-Is this how it feels to be a mother? Freaking out over every little thing?

-I don’t know, I’ve never been a mother before. But something tells me that this fear will be overshadowed by happiness when we have our little witch or wiccan in our arms. It’s just the “first-time parent” jitters, I’m sure.

-I hope so because I have a weak heart, Lilia. One single health scare from you and Rio takes me to the afterlife, I swear.

The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, like a back-and-forth dance of happiness and terror that returned once more to joy as her words sank into your tumultuous mind. At your comment Lilia couldn’t help but laugh melodiously, the sound echoing against the thin walls, her forehead resting over yours for a moment. You were not particularly gifted in reading minds, an aspect that had bothered you ever since you had been little, but with Lilia’s touch on yours, with the way she was so open all the time since returning from the Witches Road, you could sense her every thought, every emotion that fell drop by drop around your heart. She was just as scared as you; she had seen many friends lost to miscarriages and labours that had lasted for too long and bitter tears had been cried many times since those years, but all that pain and misery was simply nothing compared to the joy that the children she had helped deliver had brought to her heart. She was sure that this baby would bring such a feeling into her life, a dream that at last she could fulfill in a world where she wasn’t persecuted, chased out of every town she lived in, a world in which she had met you.

-I promise I’ll try my best to keep all illnesses at bay. No colds or stomach aches, witches honour.

She could be such a fool, but what a lovely silly fool she was to you. Her kind smile brightened up the room even further, all the terror that had claimed your mind and heart subsiding until there was nothing left. Perhaps it was her powers doing the trick, she was quite an empathic witch after all, a natural nurturer and carer, but there was part of her personality that helped tremendously. Though there had been times when that hadn’t been the case. The first day after her return had been hard, to say the least, she had been gone for what had seemed months to her and adjusting to being at home with you had been troubling, but the main problem had been her magic. She had pushed her powers as deep inside her as she could and even then, the gaps and visions had always found a way to disturb her and disrupt her life, so being in touch with it again so intensely had been a challenge she was not sure if she was ready for. She had cried in your arms as she told you that she had made up her mind about dying, that she had been ready for it, her words slicing through your heart and making it bleed with each gash that she unintentionally made, but her voice had been so weak, so bitter and full of regret and yet so honest, so afraid of finding out what she could do now that her past, present and future were finally one within her, that you hadn’t had the strength to say anything. She had known it would crush you, she said, but she had to make sure she could protect you and her current coven, she couldn’t simply stand back and watch you all die, not again, and that somehow had made your chest swell with pride amongst the pools of blood. She was choosing her own path, she was doing what she knew was right, even if it hurt, even if it meant saying her last farewell, all the plans you had made laying there in the cold basement of your lives collecting dust, forgotten, frozen in time.

She had made peace with herself as she fell, there had been no room for pain or regret in those few seconds before her life came to a conclusion; she hadn’t expected to be freed from the Road, to be alive, leaving her to actually face her choices and her future, to carry on. So being so raw, so emotional, and out of control with her feelings had been a side effect she hadn’t considered, and it had brought on an accident or two at the most unexpected of times, though at least her gaps had been somewhat less tragic and forceful, her visions gentle guidances for the future instead of omens of death and despair. That first day at home Lilia had been far from Lilia, or at least she had felt as if she hadn’t been herself, but time had been kind to her for once, and with each passing day things only got better, minus those moments when she would make the lights flicker in anger or frustration or when the salty, hot tears began to fall as she opened up to you, a chill in the air accompanying each painful verse of her biography. Coming to think of it now, with her in your arms and the cozy warmth that exuded from her body, you suspected part of it was to be blamed on the baby. Lilia was a pro where magic was concerned and seeing her confused and overwhelmed even if it was just for an instant was something that neither of you had known how to react to, simply thinking that it was some sort of aftermath from the Road, but it was no coincidence that the atmosphere in her home, her sanctuary, changed fluidly to her every emotion all of a sudden when in two years of being with her nothing like this had ever occurred. To be honest the signs had been there all along and you had been just too blind to see them. Standing now near the kitchen with her soft touch on your face, you were glad things had improved and Lilia was back to being herself. She had felt so out of place, as if she had been living in someone else’s skin, unused to feeling her magic flow freely in her veins, allowing herself to embrace her gift.

Breathing her in, a hint of incense clinging to her clothes, it was amazing how well you could slip into her mind and simply feel her, read her like an open book. The attack had passed, your breath now having returned to normal, but you felt how Lilia’s touch didn’t cease its grip, as if she needed you to understand that she was fine, that everything would be okay just like you had told her it would, though you couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for having caused this entire situation. She was still learning to be the witch she was supposed to be, adjusting to everything even after two months had passed; adding a baby to the mix might be too much for her, you feared, but she was giving you no indication that she felt anything but unbridled happiness. She was simply serene in the chaos of it all. The breeze that flew and swirled around you as it came through the kitchen window, carrying the aroma of the flowers from the garden, had turned slightly cooler than what you were comfortable with, a shiver running down your spine, shaking the hand that was resting still over Lilia’s heart. Your frame shook under her touch, and as much as she wanted to keep you close, she didn’t think you would appreciate catching a cold.

Separating her forehead from yours, that link that had formed between your minds dissolved in the air that floated around you, like the remaining sparkles of a firework that glow in the sky until there’s only smoke. Releasing the hand she had pressed against her chest and dropping the one on your face to your sides, rubbing the skin of your forearms, she walked away towards the window to close it. The sun was setting over the horizon, the garden bathed in oranges and pinks that reflected in a rainbow of colours over the emerald grass. They almost seemed to drip onto the white petals of the plumerias, tainting them with their essence. Lilia was struck by a sudden visitor just when she was about to turn away, watching as a tiny hummingbird of purple and turquoise iridescent feathers flapped its wings around a big orange hibiscus flower, a Rose of Sharon you had called it, that decorated the furthest wall. The bird had Lilia bewitched for a moment with the way its tiny frame swayed in the breeze, resting over the fragile petals as if it weighed nothing. The sound of the bell ringing in the shop disturbed the quiet moment, forcing your eyes to break their gaze from Lilia’s enthralled body, the still lingering warmth of her golden magic slipping through your fingers as you walked towards the beady curtain and out into the shop. The beads clashing against each other forced Lilia to tear her eyes from the window, resting her back against the counter to watch how the tassels swayed from side to side after your body vanished from her sight. Jen stayed true to her word and showed up at the shop in under ten minutes, a big black bag in her hands.

-Hi, Y/N. – she was dressed appropriately for a catwalk, you thought, in a pink and black jumpsuit, her signature necklace around her long neck, and a pink cape over her shoulders, not for a house call, but Jen’s sense of fashion was always too glamourous for the tasks ahead. She still hadn’t recovered from having had to rip her pink dress.

-Hey. Thanks for coming on such short notice.

-As if I would miss this. You weren’t kidding on the phone, were you?

-Have you ever known me to joke about anything related to Lilia? – she raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t comment, simply closed the door behind her and stepped properly into the room. - I swear it, Jen. She took five tests, and all came back positive, I’m not tripping balls here. – she looked at you with a lopsided grin, tilting her head, but remained quiet once again, not wasting an instant before she was following you to the back, huffing under the weight of whatever was in that bag of hers, grunting when you pushed the curtain to the side and held it for her, the hem of her cape brushing the sides of the doorframe. Lilia had not moved from her spot next to the window, writhing her hands over her abdomen.

-Hi Lilia. A little birdy told me you have found yourself in quite a situation.

-I suppose you could say that. – her heart was hammering hard against her ribs, the sight of Jen with her snotty remarks, full ego, and overpowering confidence both reassuring her while also making her nerves roll in her stomach, suddenly feeling as if her entire body was rising in temperature with the way her anxiety was spiking. – How have you been?

-Quite well actually. No Agatha to put up with since last week, so absolutely wonderful. I would ask how you are feeling, but you look as if you’ve just had a glass of a certain poisoned wine and the side effects are hitting you hard, so I guess that says it all.

-I wouldn’t go that far, but I can’t say that I’m not a bit… surprised.

-Understandable if what miss proto-witch here says she’s done to you it’s true. – her tone was playful if not a bit mocking as she pointed at you, standing about two feet behind her, with her thumb, a taunting note lacing her word. She really couldn’t help herself. It grated your nerves slightly, but Lilia didn’t seem bothered, maybe it was Jen’s way of trying to dissipate some of the tension that was clearly building up in the room as she walked towards the kitchen table, placing her heavy bag on top with a loud thump. Your eyes flickered between her, as she opened it and ruffled with whatever was inside, and Lilia, who was holding onto her gown for dear life, knuckles almost white. It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way her body was shaking, switching her weight from one foot to the other, and in an attempt to calm her nerves as she had done with you barely two minutes ago, you made your way towards her and pried one of her hands from the soft fabric, letting her hold onto to you, grounding herself as Jen lifted her head momentarily to look at you both, her brow furrowed in curiosity. - Honestly, how did you even do this?

-Miss proto-witch here, as you’ve kindly addressed me, happens to love her girlfriend very much. And that’s all the explanation you need Jennifer; I’m not telling you about our sexual escapades. Unlike Agatha and Rio, we are private people.

-Okay, chill, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Y/N. – a box of latex gloves rested on the table next to what you thought for a second might be a bottle of lube. Upon closer inspection, eyes squinting from your place against the counter, you realised that it was, in fact, lube, neutral flavouring the packaging said, as if that didn’t make you feel any less weird. Jen didn’t think it was though, she simply unclasped her cape and placed it over the back of a chair, thin muscular arms of deep rich tones glowing under the chandelier light, before turning to look at the two of you, one arm folded under her chest, her left elbow resting on her right palm, hand slightly curved as her dark eyes settled on both your forms, eyebrows raised. - So how do you want to do this Lilia?

-Whatever way works best for you.

-How about you let go of Y/N before you crush her hand and simply lay on the bed so I can do a cervical check. You know, just feel around and see if everything’s as it should be.

-Yeah, of course.

Why hadn’t you said anything about your hand? She hadn’t noticed the grip she had on it, your fingers bright red, turning purple on their tips while your knuckles were practically white under the strength she was using. Lilia let go of it, quickly, observing it to make sure she had caused no damage, which of course she hadn’t. You couldn’t have considered the hold she had had as painful, simply uncomfortable and it was clear that she was terrified, nervous beyond belief, and needed to keep her hands busy somehow before she started to pull on her own hair or bite the flesh around her nails, a nasty habit she only did when she got really anxious, so you endured it without complaint. Her legs felt like lead, heavy with each small step she took towards the bed, knowing that the longer she tried to avoid this the worse her nerves were going to get. With a quiet voice, her tone wavering slightly under the weight of uncertainty, she whispered an apology in your ear, but you were quick to reassure her that it was fine and that she hadn’t hurt you as with one of your hands you rubbed her back in circling motions. She had asked for Jen to come, she had only wanted her to examine her and to tell her if it was all a mistake or not, to be honest and straightforward, but at the same time she felt as if she wasn’t ready for any of it. It was just too confusing, feelings contradicting each other in the chaos of her mind, but she had to push through, for you and for herself.

-Remove your underwear and lay on your back with your legs bent and spread. Y/N can put a bedsheet over them if you would prefer to be a bit more covered.

-Yes, please. I’m not a prude but I don’t think that it would be appropriate to have my ass hanging out. – On that, you had to agree. It wasn’t an usual occurrence, but it hadn’t been the first time, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last, that you had returned from work and found Lilia in her underwear after having just come out of the shower, simply standing against the counter with a cup of tea or coffee in her hands, droplets of water falling off the ends of her peppery curls onto her shoulders and down her back or seeing her completely naked, bathed in the morning light that came from the kitchen window, as she changed right in front of you when all you had wanted to do was have your bowl of cereal in peace, utterly distracted as soon as her nightgown hit the floor. The sights always drove you insane and you sometimes suspected that she did it on purpose to have her way with you, which you weren’t against. Still, right now the idea of blowing her mind against the headboard wasn’t a very appealing thought, not until this was all over and Jen was far away from this room.   

-It’s not a matter of what’s appropriate or not, but what you are most comfortable with. We’ll be doing this your way Lilia, and if you want to be covered, that’s what we’ll do. It won’t affect the results of my examination anyway.

This was the Jen that you only saw when Lilia was around; the kind, warm woman who tried to be the best support for the older witch, a friend and confidant that you knew she valued tremendously. Her voice was clear but soft as she addressed your partner, dark eyes never leaving Lilia’s form as she tried her best to put a pair of gloves on even as she carried on talking to the woman. It was something she had learned from the early days of working as a midwife; her patients were scared, even if they weren’t expecting, they needed her, the person who was supposed to take care of them, to be strong and not treat them like a case in a book, simply as another paycheck or a number on a list. They were people first and foremost, they had names and families, dreams and fears, and the simple gesture of looking at them and explaining everything that was going on without treating them as if they were dumb helped them understand that they could trust her, that she would be there for them every step of the way, no matter the outcome. With Lilia, they already had that understanding, that friendship that came from going through something like the Witches Road together, but that didn’t mean it was any easier, if only it would be more difficult. Jen had to separate work from family, she had to earn Lilia’s trust as her midwife, not as her sister in the craft, she had to learn to care for her and be honest with her even if the things she might have to say to her were harsh or heartbreaking, but she wasn’t going to leave her alone in this.

When Jen had crossed the threshold of the Iron Maiden in that bloody tower, Lilia having had thrown her out and taken it upon herself to end the Salem Seven with her own bare hands, every fibre of her being had been crushed into dust, leaving only ruins that she wasn’t sure she could be reborn from, not even as the tendrils of pink magic had laced around her fingertips in freedom. She had cried, cursed and mourned her every day, unable to get her out of her mind, unable to feel as if she hadn’t just lost part of herself in that dammed road. Agatha had burst into her life, and she had despised every minute of it, but she had never considered that in exchange for having to put up with her, she would find a coven, much less a sister like Lilia, among the trees of purple leaves that were bathed in eternal night. And then all of that pain and regret had vanished with one swift blow the day she went to the shop to say a final goodbye, hoping that some closure would make it all hurt a little bit less, and saw her standing in front of it, alive. The relief could have almost been compared to the feeling of her magic returning to her after a hundred years. Jennifer had been there to hold Lilia’s hand and walk beside her into her trial, knowing that everything might end right then and there; she was ready to do it again as you both walked down your own road, a brand new chapter waiting by the finish line, a reward that no one but yourselves could claim, and this time Death would not be waiting.

It was awkward, to say the least, to hold onto Lilia’s hand as she removed her underwear, stabilising her as she lifted her dress and pushed her pair of white knickers down her hips and legs, standing on one foot and then the other to get out of them. It’s not that she wasn’t used to removing her underwear before going to bed, preferring to sleep in just her nightgowns, but it was completely different to do it with someone who wasn’t you in the room and for a purpose that was clearly not of the usual ones that required for her to be half naked. At least Jen had been kind enough to turn her back and give her as much privacy as she could. After a moment of battling with the garment, as it had rolled around her thighs, you let go of her hands and walked over to the bed to remove the covers while Lilia folded and placed her knickers on top of the nightstand that rested to the left of it. She had to stop for an instant, taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart that felt as if it was about to burst out of her chest, before she could even turn towards the bed, clumsily crawling on top of the mattress and laying flat on her back. From the set of drawers that stood in between the kitchen counter and the canopy you pulled out the first bedsheet you could get your hands on, a pretty white cotton sheet with tiny little pink daisies splattered at random, and made your way quickly to Lilia to spread it over her lower abdomen and legs, helping her to lift her gown all the way to her waist. Propriety wasn’t a rule that needed to be followed where pregnancy was concerned, but it sure helped Lilia feel as if she wasn’t giving an uncalled-for show.

-Are you ready? – Jen sat at the foot of the bed, bottle of lube in her right hand while with the other she tapped Lilia’s knee, a gentle smile on her lips.

-Not really but go for it.

-Relax, this won’t hurt, and it will only take a minute, but if you need me to stop at any point, just tell me.

-I’m not worried about pain.

-What are you worried about then? – for all Lilia knew, she was back in the tunnels with her, mud covering every single inch of their bodies, eyes locked in silent conversation. That gentle tone, whispered as Lilia’s big doe eyes filled with tears, held the same feeling of understanding they had shared back then. Why was she always so scared? She was supposed to be the one that held the Coven together with her expertise and wisdom and yet she always stepped back, refusing to face her problems, wishing she could run away.

-Everything? I don’t think I even know what I’m feeling.

-It’s normal. You don’t want to be happy in case it’s a false alarm, but you also don’t want to feel saddened if there’s no child. You were not looking for it, but the idea now appeals to you more than anything else and you don’t know what to do.

-Sums it up, pretty much.

-I can’t tell you how to feel, but I know that everything will be fine. This is you we are talking about Lilia; you always figure it out. So how about I do my job and put you out of your misery, okay? – Lilia closed her eyes at her words, nodding her head as her lungs filled with air in a deep sigh. You were both on the same boat, you thought, pacing from bow to stern in parallel lines without knowing that one was feeling just as lost and confused as the other. - Come on then, Calderu, legs up and spread. I’m going to insert my fingers inside you, so don’t forget to breath and stay calm. If you are relaxed everything will go smoothly and quickly.

The sheet ruffled as she bent her legs, Jennifer covering two of her fingers in the transparent gel of the lube and moving her hand underneath it, vanishing from your sight as the other one rested on top of Lilia’s lower abdomen. For a second everything felt as if it was on standby, tiny little specks of dust floating around the room as if gravity didn’t exist, but then Lilia jolted suddenly on top of the mattress, a quiet gasp passing from her ajar lips at the feeling of being prodded by freezing fingers, her hand shooting out to grab yours out of sheer instinct. It was uncomfortable to feel her rummaging around, the pressure she was putting on Lilia’s abdomen only adding to the uneasy feeling, but she could deal with it, she thought, it was the only way she would be able to finally step away from this thin layer of ice that she was standing on, not knowing whether to jump back to the safety of the life she was used to, or to the other side where a great unknown darkness went on into a bottomless void. Jen’s fingers moved gently and slowly, knowing that this wasn’t precisely enjoyable, checking every structure that formed the vagina and feeling and measuring the size of Lilia’s ovaries, which felt perfectly standard for what one might consider a middle-aged witch, normal things that one would get during a pelvic exam. And yet upon pressing on her lower abdomen a bit harder, Jen felt the uterus, soft under her fingers, slightly firm and perhaps a bit rounder than usual, almost as if she was palpating a small hard ball, even if internally she couldn’t quite get to it, too small and hidden still underneath the pelvic bone.

There was only one answer to what she was feeling, fighting a smile at the way it moved under her prodding fingers, her perfected poker face not giving anything away as she proceeded with the last part of her examination, tempted to tell you both what was going on but deciding against it after a moment. Lilia’s grasp on your hand became stronger as Jen’s fingers went slightly deeper, shaky breaths making her frame tremble as she fought to stay still. All you wanted to do was make everything stop, to not see Lilia’s brow tense, furrowed under the ministrations, but you needed an answer as much as her, you needed for your heart to stop beating this fast and to have a final statement so you could at last breath. And then you felt your love relax her grip, shoulders falling gently onto the mattress as Jennifer pulled her fingers out and worked on removing her gloves, Lilia’s beautiful brown eyes opening to meet yours. The worst was over, she thought, but Jen didn’t say a word, only told her that it was over and that she could drop her legs, and somehow that unnerved her more than anything. Had she felt something unusual? Could there be a cyst or a mass that Jen was not sure how to tell either of you about? Was she not… pregnant? This suspense was murder, it should be considered illegal to withhold information like this, you thought, feeling the way Lilia’s eyes moved from your face to the back of the dark-skinned woman as she rummaged through her bag, her heart speeding in her chest.

-Is everything okay? Is Lilia alright?

-Perfectly healthy. – thank God. Lilia released the breath she had been holding at the sound of that statement, but only partially, her hands clammy and shaky as she pushed some rogue curls off her forehead. This was getting too much for her, she feared, closing her eyes for a moment or two to collect herself before Jennifer carried on with whatever she had to do.

-That’s all?

-I need to check something else before I feel comfortable giving you a diagnosis, Y/N. You can’t rush medicine. You as a green witch should know that life takes time and you can’t just bend it to your will, but then again you make roses bloom in December just for the fun of it, so you are not very into the whole “rules” situation, I guess.

-Says the woman who has like four lawsuits sitting on her kitchen table for fraud on her skincare brand when she’s a potions witch.

-They were dismissed, as a of matter fact! If you had bothered to look it up, you wouldn’t be sitting there like an idiot talking about things that you don’t know about.

-I think the entire Internet knows about this.

-Listen here…

-HEY! – Lilia’s voice rose in volume as her bodyweight rested on her elbows, moving her head from your position beside her on top of the mattress to Jen’s figure as it stood next to the kitchen table with what looked like a large white cell phone on her hand. – Leave the arguments and the throwing of plates for when I’m not half naked on my bed two seconds away from having a mental breakdown because no one tells me if I’m pregnant!

-Sorry, darling.

-Yeah, sorry, Lilia.

Her body collapsed back onto the mattress as Jennifer pulled a different bottle out of her bag. You did feel bad about this little show, perhaps you were trying to blow off some steam before your nerves got the best of you, and since she got on your nerves, you were not sure why, but she did anyway, you took the chance. It was impossible for you to not want to kick her to the ground whenever she behaved like a superior being. Sometimes you even wanted to hit her with a stick, but you knew that Lilia would never talk to you again if you did, so you simply dreamt about it. Jennifer wasn’t a bad person, she was just a little bit too full of herself, in your opinion. She made her way back to the bed again, that cell phone- shaped thingy you had got a glimpse of before resting on her left hand. Upon closer inspection you saw that it had some sort of probe and cable attached to it and from what you could make out as she placed it on the bed, it also possessed a very small black screen on the top and a tiny wheel on the side. It was probably some sort of sophisticated monitor, Jen would never have useless machines in her “Mary Poppins bag”, but to you it seemed like a children’s toy, something you could find at Toys-”R”-us in the section of fake medical devices. In her right hand, she had a brandless and nameless white bottle of what looked like blue gel, wrinkles on the soft plastic from where she had squeezed it many times throughout the years. Better than the lube that was still at the foot of the bed, you thought.

-This is going to be cold, but please don’t move. And keep quiet.

Was that one for you? Her eyes narrowing as she lifted her gaze towards you gave you the answer; it sure as hell was. As if you would risk making Lilia angry again. As if she had not just pardoned you, her eyes softened when she looked back down at Lilia, her gentle hands pulling the bedsheet down to her pubic bone to free her bare midriff, peppered with tiny freckles and stretch marks that wrapped around her hips. Every inch of skin you had ever laid eyes upon was sacred land to you, from the velvet flesh of her neck and the sweet valley between her breasts, to her dainty ankles and thick thighs along with every detail that adorned it all. Her beauty marks, the bluish veins that your fingers traced at night through the translucent skin of her hands and arms, the way her shoulder and chest were sprinkled with light brown freckles that seemed to work as landmarks for your lips. Everything that made her simply her was utterly exquisite to your eyes. The gel that Jen applied on Lilia’s lower stomach was not as blue as you thought it would be, translucent in colours where it lay close to the sheet in small amounts, a quiet gasp nearly escaping her rosy lips at the cold touch, but she stopped it before it could slip of the tip of her tongue. The tiny jolt she made out of instinct could not be avoided though.   

With the probe now in her right hand and the monitor on the other, Jen pressed the first firmly against Lilia’s skin. Once more the feeling was simply uncomfortable, no real pain to be derived from the action, a swooshing sound filling up the room, as if Jen was turning the nob of a radio looking for a station that wasn’t static. The movement of the probe only made the noise more prominent, a steady rhythm in the background that she didn’t say anything about, each motion of her hand slow, barely an inch from where it had been before, as if she was looking for something. Lilia watched it in silence, a smile wishing to break from her lips as she stared at those dark eyes that were glued to her abdomen, a shadow of joy overtaking them that was simply too bright to hide from her even if the rest of her face was professional and neutral. Jen had felt it, of that Lilia was sure, no, more than sure, she felt it in her bones, in her soul; Jen must have felt that spark of magic that had travelled through both your hands, like electricity that journeyed up your fingers, and was trying to hide it from her, as if she could. She knew Jennifer far too well already. Her heart was beating hard against her ribs, but the atmosphere around her was changing swiftly from panic and fear to anticipation, hope blooming in between heartbeats.

With her lower lip in between her teeth, Lilia followed the probe as it left a red mark on her skin, the sounds coming from the monitor never changing, but that didn’t seem to bother Jennifer, she simply carried on moving the probe, pushing a little harder perhaps. What on earth was she looking for, you wondered, twirling the corner of the bedsheet in between your fingers in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it was the silence, the fact that she was giving you no information whatsoever that had you about ready to start climbing walls, Spiderman style. She had one job, she only had to say yes or no and you would be able to relax your sphincter a little, but here you all were listening to these sounds that felt to you a bit as if you were on an episode of “Ghost Adventures” and voices would suddenly start coming through telling you that the afterlife wasn’t such a bad place to be. The anxiety that was exuding from Lilia was practically palpable, and in an attempt to calm her down, you pushed those random peppery curls that framed her face beautifully, of her forehead, caressing the top of her head. The probe kept being pressed over and over against already reddened skin but what Jennifer was hearing was most definitely what she wasn’t looking for and then, in an instant, a gentle rushing noise came through the static and she was quick to move it slowly in the direction she supposed it was. A soft galloping sound filled the room, a bright smile breaking through her dark lips as she looked over to the screen that was a nice white colour, reading 142.

-There it is. Didn’t take as long as I thought.

-What… what is it? – your voice wavered like Jell-O, frame shaking and trembling on the mattress as you got closer to Jen, letting go of Lilia’s hair in case you accidentally pulled on it in your current state.

-Just what I needed to give you both a diagnosis. – Lilia already knew. She couldn’t have cared less if the universe around her exploded, if everything was dust outside of this house, because her entire world had shrunk to the size of a tiny little life form, but Jen had to do her job, and with kind words and soft eyes she turned her gaze to those deep brown doe eyes that were beginning to fill with tears. – Your uterus feels firm and round, which is exactly what we want, and your cervix is thicker than usual, perfect to protect your tiny little witch or wiccan. You are very much in fact pregnant, Lilia, and this sound, Y/N, it’s nothing to worry about, it’s just your baby’s heartbeat, which is fast and strong, as it should be.

Fast and strong. Your baby was fast and strong, it had a heartbeat that you were listening to. It was alive. Shock and happiness could not even begin to describe what you were feeling at that moment, utter relief washing through your body like a wave, as if you were breathing for the first time all while your ears never ceased to listen to that fantastic sound that could be compared to a herd of galloping horses but it didn’t seem as accurate a description as you wanted, but it didn’t matter, this was yours and Lilia’s baby and everything was absolutely perfect. With the sound echoing in her mind Lilia found that she could not hold it in any longer, tears running down her cheeks and onto the sides of her head, swallowed by her hair as she let out a relived sob, all that fear and anxiety that had taken her heart hostage leaving, sliding down her limbs until she felt herself floating on a cloud. She was going to have a baby, a healthy baby, and suddenly all that she cared about was that little bean inside her, and you, nothing else mattered, nothing else was important in the world, in the entire universe, just her family. The sight of your love like this would have frightened you under any other circumstance but her mouth had been painted with the brightest, biggest smile you had ever seen, her eyes sparkling in such a way that you turned your body until you were kneeling next to her and gathered her in your arms, letting her cry against your shoulder and chest, her hands holding you close as they grabbed onto your shirt around your shoulder blades. Everything she was feeling seeped from her mind to yours so easily, all her walls collapsed and ruined under the weight of this joyful news, Jen forgotten at the foot of the bed, unmoving with the probe still on Lilia’s abdomen.

-There’s a baby, Y/N.

-Yes, my love. There’s a beautiful baby in there. – never, in all her years alive had she felt such joy, had she felt such peace of mind that extended like a balm over wounds inflicted by time, healing scrapes and cracks she had not known were there, putting her together with such ease that it almost overwhelmed her. This baby was barely noticeable to the naked eye, and she already loved it more than she loved herself. Her hair ran smooth under your fingertips, ringlets bouncing with each caress.

-I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I would prefer to get a clearer reading. Would you mind coming with me to the clinic between St. Mathews and Joanne Street?

-Like… right now? – your own cheeks were wet with salty tears, falling drop by drop from your chin into your loves hair, eyes glistening as you turned your head the best you could to look at Jen, hands never letting go of Lilia’s shoulders.

-Yeah. I know it’s late, but I work there part-time, so I can have you come in as an emergency and finish the check-up, create a file and all that boring stuff today instead of having to have an appointment for tomorrow.

-What do you think, darling? – from in between the folds of your shirt her slightly red and puffy eyes peeked, cheeks flushed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to move, to break the spell that had fallen around you like a bubble of glee and warmth that could burst at any point, but she wanted to do things right, to makes sure that everything went smoothly from the very beginning, the words “clearer reading” ringing in her head and making several alarms go off. She supposed she should get used to that from no on every time she went for a check-up. Knowing that right now there was a lump on her throat enabling her to speak, she nodded against your chest. – We’ll go.

-Great then. Everything here looks fine, it’s just a matter of getting a few measurements, a proper ultrasound so I can give you an expected due date, you know, all the boring stuff.

The sounds that had filled your heads for the past few minutes vanished into silence as Jen removed the probe, wiping it clean with a cloth, getting of the bed to let Lilia get up at last. Lilia unwrapped her arms from around your frame after a moment, one lonely tear still sliding down her rosy cheek, but your thumb was quick to wipe it away, kissing the warm skin of her forehead before rushing to the bathroom and back, a towel in hand to get rid of the gel that had stained the bedsheet. With both her hands on yours you pulled her up and into a sitting position over the mattress, the white cotton fabric ruffling around her legs but never uncovered her, and as you handed her her underwear your eyes noticed the bottle of lube resting against the footboard. One thing was to have your own sexual products in a box in the closet, hidden from prying eyes, and another very different would be to keep this bottle; Jen’s face would float in front of you every time you picked it up and there wasn’t a worse turn off. While Lilia redressed herself you walked over to the kitchen table and left it next to the bag, her playful tone tainted her thank you as she grabbed it and placed it inside its own pocket.

-Is everything really, okay?

-Yes, Y/N. Lilia is healthy, perfectly fine, and as long as the baby’s heartbeat sounds as good as that, it will also be healthy. You don’t have anything to worry about, I will take good care of them both.

-I know you will. I don’t trust anyone but you to do this.

-Was that… a compliment?

-Don’t overthink it, potions witch.

No more tension between you both, at least for the time being, a chuckle making its way from the dark-skinned woman as she closed the zip. She really wasn’t a bad gal, once you pulled out the stick out of her arse. Locking the back door, you made your way to Lilia, who stood by the bed with both hands on her stomach as if right now she was made out of porcelain, afraid to move the wrong way and hurt her precious baby, which you understood completely. If you could have it your way you would bundle her up in bubble wrap and keep her still on the couch, protecting her at all costs, but it was an impossible dream to achieve. She could hardly stay still for more than ten minutes in her armchair on a daily basis. You were sure she would not be any different while pregnant. Because she was really pregnant, holy shit; the smile that spread over your lips was bigger than the entire continent as you rolled the thought around, savouring the flavour it left on the back of your mind, sweet and simply glorious. Jennifer had already stepped back into the shop with her bag hanging from her shoulder, leaving you to walk over to Lilia and take her hands in yours, pulling her for a tender kiss that you hoped told her how much you loved her right now, pouring yourselves against her soft lips but forced to separate when Jen’s voice loudly called for you both.

Exasperated you sighed, but followed her instructions nevertheless, your loves hand never leaving yours as the lights turned off and you walked out into the street, Lilia picking up her purse and shawl before locking the door, only darkness enfolding her house. In the long street there was no other car but yours, and with a raised eyebrow you looked at Jen who simply moved her fingers, showing off her pink magic as if that was all the explanation needed, which to be honest, it was. The car keys were still in your pocket from your trip to Walmart, and once everyone was situated, with you behind the wheel, Lilia in the passenger’s seat, and Jen in the back, you started the engine and pulled out, driving down to the intersection and turning right. The clinic Jen was talking about was perhaps a couple of blocks away, next to a park that you passed through every morning to get to work, but you had never actually been to the building itself, you hadn’t even read the name on the front in the years since moving here, even before you had met Lilia. Turning right at another intersection you pulled the car into the entrance to the parking lot, Jen handing you a card with a barcode so you could get in, hoping she would lend it to you when you left so you wouldn’t have to sell a kidney to get the money. Next to you, Lilia remained silent, calm now that everything was out.

Jen quickly pointed to a spot on the furthest corner, next to a big white door that had an emergency exit on top, where a small white plaquard that read “Jennifer Kale”. Turning off the engine you suspected she used her car on a daily basis as to not draw too much attention to a woman flying through the sky, a sight many people would be a bit uncomfortable with after what happened with Wanda in Westview. Many of the people that used to live there had moved to Eastview in hopes of moving past the torture that had been the Hex for them, so seeing a witch flying through the sky, Elphaba style, could be a bit triggering. She remained as head of the convoy, waiting for you to help Lilia out of the vehicle before locking it and heading towards the door with her hand in yours, following Jen to the big lifts that stood to the left, under a flickering white light. If you had to guide yourself by the outside of the building you would definitely say that it was huge, probably like five or six floors, plus the parking lot that you were unsure whether it had more levels, imagining rows of rooms and surgeries as you stepped into the lift, watching form the corner of your eye how she pressed the button for the second floor. Working here must pay rather well, you thought, which automatically made you realise that Lilia was not included in your health insurance, you hadn’t got around to it yet, meaning you were going to have to pay everything out of pocket and you didn’t have that kind of money. You supposed you could ask for a loan down at the bank and spend the next fifty years paying it back like you had done with your student debt, but either way, you were not going to tell Lilia, she needed a relaxed atmosphere to live in, no worries.

The sound of her voice woke you up from your thoughts, seeing that they were already standing in the corridor, and you were still in the lift, the doors colliding gentle with her hand as she held them open for you. You rushed out, apologising, and tried your best to push all those brand-new worries to the back of your head. This was for Lilia and your child; you would face whatever situations arose with as much conviction and determination you could muster, doing what you had to do for them both not looking back or wondering if things would have been done differently. The corridor was dressed in white walls, textured under the touch of your fingertips, a blue railing drilled into it on both sides, blue door after blue door accompanying you as you made the trek to Jennifer’s office, which of course had to be on the other side of the hallway. Everything seemed so antiseptic, clean down to the last screw and bolt, the aroma of bleach, and sterile medical instruments lingering in the air with each step you took. Beside you, Lilia seemed lost in her own world, floating as if gravity didn’t exist, among clouds of white not quite believing what she had been told, as if her mind was frozen and could not comprehend fully everything that was occurring. And yet she felt so different, from the way her breasts tingled as they brushed against her grandma bra, the most comfortable she owned, to the way every little moment from her bowls made her think it was her baby, making its presence known. It almost felt as if this wasn’t her skin, her own body, but not in a bad way, it was just… new, strange at most.

The door of Jen’s office had no name, only a number and a piece of paper attached to the bottom of it that said “Midwife,” which, after seeing how the building looked, you had expected something a little bit more professional, to be honest, but it didn’t matter much, at least it didn’t say Dr. Kale or something like that, that would have made you groan in annoyance. She made quick work of the lock and pushed the door open to let you both in, flicking the switch to show a well sized room with the same white textured walls, a wooden desk presiding it on the other side of the office, shelves standing proudly next to the big window opposite the door, filled books of several different topics along with potted plants and candles, a white stretcher awaiting on the right, next to the wall. It most definitely screamed of Jennifer, but it still had many blank spots that could be filled with pictures or paintings, details to make it even more hers. The door closed itself once she let go of it, dropping the bag softly onto the floor before making her way to the desk, turning a big desktop computer on, a pink iMac that looked to be brand new, not a scratch in sight, the colour of the aluminium perfect under the white light of the lamp. It must have cost her a fortune, you thought, but didn’t comment on it, walking towards the two chairs that rested in front of the desk, your eyes never leaving Lilia’s frame until she was perfectly seated.

-I’m going to create a new file for you. Any doctor or midwife should be able to check it if there’s an emergency or if I’m unable to come to one of the appointments. Simple procedure. Any middle names I should know about?

-No. My coven was not keen on that sort of thing. I was just Lilia.

-Great. – her fingers tipped quickly over the keyboard, eyes moving from the screen to her whenever she asked a question, never breaking contact until she was done speaking so she could write down the information. Seeing this sort of treatment warmed your heart; not many medical professionals addressed their patients in such a manner, some of them even dared to retort and talk back when they were supposed to help, so seeing Lilia was comfortable and Jennifer, all jokes aside, behaving like such a professional soothed some of the doubts you had had about this, and made some of the questions that were floating in your head vanish into thin air. - I won’t ask you your age, first because you won’t tell any of us thanks to Agatha and her need to always mock us, and secondly because the authorities would barge in here if the saw a file for a pregnant witch of 450 years. So, I’ll fake it appropriately to how you look and how healthy you are. Any medical conditions I should know about?

-Slight astigmatism and hypermetropy I think the doctor said, but I usually don’t wear my glasses.

-Which you should, darling.

-I know, Y/N, honey, but you know that I forget where I’ve left them, and my sight is not so bad that I can’t live without them. – it was a lost battle to get her to wear them around her neck with a string or a cord. You had even bought her several bags of colourful chains so she could have a range to choose from, but they were still waiting to be noticed in a drawer under the telly.

-A bad sight, however small the issues may be, should be taken into account for the future. Baby might have the same problems at birth or a bit later in life, it all comes down to genetics. Or might have no issues at all. – Lilia nodded at that, feeling how a bubble of worry was forming around her heart. Could her baby be born with such difficulties all because she wasn’t wearing her glasses? Could it even be born… blind? Oh God, she would blame herself for the rest of her existence if that happened. Okay, breath Lilia, she thought to herself, you are getting ahead of yourself again, she didn’t say that it would, just that it could happen, or not. Jennifer carried on after a moment, noticing the way her friend’s hands were gripping the edged of her shawl in between her fingers, the tips white as they rubbed the wool of the garment. – The probability of your bad eyesight affecting the baby it’s very low and most ophthalmologists won’t even consider changing your prescription until you’ve given birth since the shape of the cornea changes slightly. There’s nothing to worry about, Lilia, I promise.

-So… I wouldn’t harm the baby by not wearing my glasses.

-Not really, unless you start bumping into things because you can’t see. Genetically speaking, it shouldn’t harm it, but I agree with Y/N, and you should try to use them.

-Thank you, Jennifer. Been telling her that for two years.

-Hey! – the swat she gave you on your upper arm was more of a joke than an actual painful hit, a smile breaking on her lips as she looked at you with offended mockery written all over her features, turning to look at the quite amused Jen that tried to cover her face with the monitor of her computer. -You were ready to kill each other not thirty minutes ago and now you are teaming up against me?

-We do what we must to help you, Lilia, trust me that it’s not pleasant to have to agree with Y/N. Now, are there any other conditions I should know about?

-You are both terrible, honestly. Maybe a bit of joint pain but nothing that has a proper diagnosis.

-Are you taking any medications?

-No. Tylenol or Advil for headaches. Mainly after really bad visions.

-I’ll add that as sporadic migraines, just to be safe, but with no current treatment. Any family history of pregnancy complications?

-No that I know of but keep in mind that it’s been more than four hundred years since I last saw my family, so I can’t give you an accurate answer to that.

-And that’s fine. We’ll simply keep a closer eye on you to make sure that everything runs smoothly from the very beginning, and I’ll write that you didn’t know. I think that covers all the information that I need for your medical history, so how about you hop on the scale so I can weigh you?

In your house there were no scales, you hated them, made you feel as if you were always gaining weight instead of losing it, they disturbed your sanity with doubts of self-worth only because you didn’t look like all those pretty things on Instagram or Tik Tok, and since Lilia had never been too bothered by that sort of thing, not having one didn’t disrupt her life in the slightest. Standing up and walking over to the foot of the stretcher, one of those medical scales that could also measure your height, stood, waiting for Lilia to step on it. She had never been particularly heavy, but she wouldn’t say that she had been extremely thin when she was younger either, she had always been at her perfect weight, feeling comfortable in her own skin and with the way she looked, well, maybe not always, but she was now, and stepping on that thing was bringing back some of that fear that she might not be at her ideal weight, that she should be eating less or training more, all those things she had heard from you whenever you had one of those moments of self-deprecation and that she despised with every fibre of her being. You were perfect just the way you were. Removing her black flats, Lilia stepped onto the platform, feeling the ridges of the black rubber against the soles of her feet as Jennifer moved the metal weights back and forth until they stood in perfect equilibrium in front of her, marking 152 pounds. With a questioning look she lifted her gaze from the scale to look at Jen’s dark eyes, tilting her head slightly, unsure how to phrase the query.

-It’s a very good number, Lilia. Taking into account that you are quite broad on the chest and on your bottom, and that everything seems to be in a healthy equilibrium all throughout your body, I’m quite happy with this.

-I don’t need to lose a few pounds?

-No. You are perfectly balanced, why would I want you to?

-I just thought that… I don’t know what I thought. Can I step down?

-Yes. Are you having issues with this Lilia?

-Not really, but I have heard women saying that their doctors were unhappy that they had gained so much weight or that they had been called fat and told they needed to restrict their food intake, all while pregnant. I thought you would… do the same.

-You and baby need nourishment, and you will eat as much as your body tells you to. To control food intake is dumb unless there’s an underlying condition that requires it, which you don’t possess. – it was comforting the way her hand rested on Lilia’s upper arm, rubbing up and down over the fabric of her blue and red gown, a kind smile on her lips as she talked with her, a reassuring tone lacing every word. Still sitting on your chair, you simply listened, shocked to hear that she had expected to be called out. She had had pregnant ladies come to the shop to have their future and fortune read many times before, but she had never told you about the conversations she had had with them, much less that they had told her about such painful issues. It made your blood boil in fury. But with the way Jen spoke, her words clear and strong while never losing that kind touch, she soothed your own fears and doubts as much as she soothed Lilia’s, who was still standing barefoot over the cold tiles of the office, confirming in your head that Jen had been the perfect choice to handle this matter. - We will expect an estimate of 25 to 35 pounds of weight gain throughout the entire pregnancy, and unless you consume more than 4000 calories per day, which is insane for any human, no pregnant woman is fat, and no doctor should be unhappy with the weight gained. You are perfectly balanced, and you are growing a whole new person, don’t concern yourself that much with what the scale says. I had to do this because I need to know what we are starting with so I can measure baby and make sure that it’s growing according to its gestational period, but I’m not going to control every little ounce of food that you consume. So, relax and don’t listen to what those so-called doctors say, most of them haven’t updated themselves since the 80s.

-Thank you, Jennifer. Honestly.

-You know me, I don’t sugar coat things, and I speak the truth when I hear stupidities, which is far too often for my liking. How about you hop onto the stretcher so we can have a proper look at baby?

The sound of those words wiped everything else out of existence, your heart rushing inside your chest as you practically levitated out of your chair, coming to stand next to Lilia. This was it; this was the most important moment of your life, nothing would be able to compare to it, you thought, giving her a hand as she climbed onto the stretcher and laid flat over the thin examination table, lifting her gown to her waist again in a hurry, not caring about how much her knickers were on display. She was far too excited to be bothered. Jennifer, as a true professional as she was proving to be, put a clean pair of gloves on before making her way to an absolutely thrilled Lilia, ripping some of the paper-like material they used to cover gurneys and stretchers alike, and placing it over and underneath the waistband of her knickers, not wishing to stain them with the gel and used a folded bedsheet to protect her legs from the chill of the room. These places were always so cold for some reason. Jen excused herself for a moment to turn off the lights and roll a machine from the corner of the room all the way to the foot of the bed, turning it on and making sure that everything was calibrated and ready before looking over her shoulder towards Lilia.

-This is going to be cold, just like before, but I need you to stay still.

Knowing what was coming she remained unmoving, feeling the freezing gel land over her lower abdomen once again. Your eyes observed the machine, a big thing that reminded you of some sort of robot, like Wall-E, with a monitor and what  was supposed to be a keyboard, you assumed, several cables and different sort of probes attached to it’s side, but Jen only picked up a round, short one and proceeded to press hard against Lilia’s skin. On the previously black screen, aside from numbers and words that you didn’t understand or didn’t pay attention to, as you didn’t work in the medical field, now you could all see an image of black and white lines, like some sort of interference that was preventing you from seeing a clear image that also kept moving as Jen lifted and pressed the probe over the skin on different areas as if she was looking for something. After a minute or two the motions lessened until they were barely there, only moving inch by inch over Lilia’s abdomen, when necessary, the screen showing an image in the middle of it that resembled a black rounded shape, like an ellipse, surrounded by the same sort of black and white lines. You had no idea what you were seeing for an instant, panic raising in your chest thinking that maybe Jen had been wrong, your fingers threading through Lilia’s curls in a calming pattern, but it wasn’t to comfort her, it was for you. Lilia was practically holding her breath in anticipation, barely feeling your touch. And then the transducer tilted slightly to the right and in that dark circular space a tiny little figure appeared.

-Well, someone’s excited to meet its parents; it’s not even trying to hide from me at all.

The world had stopped moving. There was no air, no time, no past, present or future floating in this room, just the instant you were both living in. Lilia’s heart felt as if it had stopped beating, bursting with all the love that her body and mind possessed, eyes glazed with tears as Jen pointed out to the bean-shaped figure. It was resting against her uterine wall; her beautiful baby had its round little head resting over her uterus as if it was hugging her, needing to feel its mom close in this vulnerable state it was in. It made Lilia’s fingers itch to hold it and press it close to her chest, to feel it’s soft skin and tiny little fingers wrapping around her own. She had longed for this moment her entire life and she had never realised it until now, this feelings that were threatening to consume her and overwhelm her in the best sense possible, overshadowing every bitter memory and thought she had ever had, vanishing the painful tears she had cried from her skin as the joyful ones that now fell retraced their pattern, leaving fiery trails behind that felt wonderful. She was in a euphoric state that she never wanted to come down from. Her eyes could not stray from the sight of her child.

Oh, she could almost make out its nose! Maybe it was not so, but she did not care, she was seeing her baby, nestled safely and cozily inside her, the life she had created with you desiring to meet its parents even if it was still so very little, probably less than the size of her thumb, Lilia thought. Jen moved the probe a few inches downward, allowing her to get a better angle with which to measure the baby, taping on the keyboard to see a line run over it before a number was written beside it in bold white letters: 16 mm. It did not go unnoticed by you the gentle but rapid flutter that was also showing on the screen, eyes narrow as you got closer and closer, until with a gasp your brain realised what you were seeing. Jen upon hearing you, smiled and confirmed that it was Baby’s heart. You could not help it, you pointed at it with the glee of a little kid watching their favourite cartoons as your head turned to look at Lilia, her crystal tears shinning against the light of the monitor, those doe eyes of hers seeming so big and tender, locked onto your baby, her baby. It was its heart, Jen had said, those words banging against the walls of your skull like a ping pong match that you were delighted to have playing over and over in a loop inside your head. One thing was to hear it through a clearly inferior machine in the comfort of your home, but another completely different was to see it beating before your eyes, to know that even if your hands could only feel a spark of magic, it was alive inside Lilia. Nothing could ever compare to this, nothing in the history of this universe could ever surpass this moment, this entire day.  

-It’s got a very nice size; you’ve been feeding it well, Lilia. Do you want to hear its heartbeat again?

-Yes, please.

Her voice was quiet, full of emotion, but Jen understood what she said even if the words waivered a little, and after pressing a few buttons here and there the sound you had heard before filled the room, but this time it was louder, clearer, maybe even faster. It was so strong, so full of life, rushing around you ears with each heartbeat, a lump forming in your throat. It was crazy, that’s what it was, crazy that a moment of vulnerability from you both had brought on this beautiful gift that was going to change your entire world, your future, and your life as you knew it. A sudden chuckle made its way of your mouth, then turned into a full laugh in only a few seconds, your arms rushing to embrace your still happily crying girlfriend, hiding your face in the crook of her neck as the tears began to fall, uncertain of why you were such a rollercoaster right now. Lilia’s fingers caressed the back of your head as your body began to shake and tremble, whispering soothing words that dripped gently down through your locks, her big brown eyes unable to part from the screen, not even when Jen raised her voice again over your sobs to speak.

-Do you need a moment?

-I think Y/N, does.

-I’ll just print you some copies of the ultrasounds then. When you are ready, call for me, okay?

Over your shoulder, you felt Lilia nodding her head, footsteps distancing themselves from your both. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling so emotional, why this whole situation was overwhelming you, feeling as if you would not be able to go through with it all when at the same time you thought you would fight everyone on this planet if you had to. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your baby, no, you adored it, and you would give your life for it, but everything around you was crumbling, all the things you had worked so hard for seemed as if they were about to fall apart and yet it felt as if wasn’t fair to Lilia. She was carrying this baby, not you, why were you feeling so helpless, so lost, and at the same time so happy that you could burst into a cloud of fireworks and love. Maybe you needed to feel like this before you could start feeling like a mother. You were going to be a mother, it was insane the way that word echoed in your head so sweetly, so beautifully. Pushing your body off of Lilia’s, your eyes were met with the sight of a bright smile and the feeling of her fingers caressing your rosy and wet cheeks, her thumbs wiping the stray tears that were still falling.

-Talk to me Y/N.

-Do you think we will be good mothers?

-Yes.

-You seem so sure.

-Because I am. I know you and you know me. We compliment each other, and we love this baby more than anything else in the world. We will do everything in our power to give it a goof life, to teach it and make sure that they grow to be decent people. We will be great parents.

-I love you so much.

-I hope you say that after the baby’s born and the lack of sleep starts hitting you.

-I will say it even if I’m buried under a mountain of dirty diapers.

Her laugh was contagious, spreading through your limbs and making your feet feel lighter over the tiles. The doubts were still there, but it was easier now to push them to the back and relish in the atmosphere of joy and love that practically seeped from Lilia’s body like a golden halo that wrapped around you and dragged you down to where she was floating in a universe of her own. It was a wonderful world to live in; just Lilia, you, and your baby. But words could not even begin to express these newfound feelings, and so you bent forward and claimed her lips in yours, tasting some of the vanilla tea that still lingered on her soft mouth, her laughter cut short by the kiss, though she wasn’t going to complain. Your mouth fitted perfectly against hers, a quiet whimper passing from her throat to yours before you remembered where you were, and much to your dismay, you were forced to part, drinking in the sparkles that danced through her perfect eyes. Looking over your shoulder Lilia called for Jen, your body stepping to the side, never breaking your hold on Lilai’s hand, as the other woman crossed the room and came to stand at the foot of the bed.

-Everything okay?

-Yes. Thank you for giving us a moment.

-First time parents usually need it Y/N, it was no trouble. Now, everything’s looking marvellous. Baby’s the perfect size for 8 weeks, and its heartrate is at 152, which is within range. With the baby’s height and width, I would say that your due date should be around November, the 21st to be specific. Mind you these dates are never a hundred percent accurate, and Baby could come a little earlier or a bit later; as long as you are past 39 weeks, any day is good. You could have a Thanksgiving baby, Lilia.

-Wouldn’t that be a laugh? Can you imagine it, honey? Agatha begging us to let her dress our baby as a little turkey.

-It would be the cutest turkey in the world.

-Well, I hope you don’t allow her to, Y/N. She’ll think she can kidnap your child whenever she wants for whatever shenanigans will cross through that depraved mind of hers.

-And what if Alice asked instead? - Now, she would not dignify your question with an answer, but a small smile did creep up on the corner of her lips as she cleaned up the gel and removed the blanket and paper cover before pushing the machine away. With your hands still in hers you pulled gently until she was sitting on the stretcher, letting go so she could hop onto the floor and make sure her dress fell back around her legs properly. Jen had walked back to her desk and was scribbling something on a piece of paper which she kindly handed to you after a moment, resting her back on the edge of the table while crossing her arms.

-Those are the prenatal vitamins that I usually recommend. You can get them at Target, but I would buy them at Walmart, they are cheaper there. For now, I think we are done. I’ll come by your place early tomorrow to get a blood sample and give you a list of what to eat, what’s forbidden, things that you’ll have to look out for like blood pressure or signs of gestational diabetes, you know…

-Boring stuff. – the words came out of you both in unison, a cackle sliding from Lilia’s mouth, her hands wrapped around your upper arm.

-Yes. All I have left to say is, congratulations, to the both of you, and, I hope you consider me as for a Godmother.

-We will, don’t worry. Thank you, I don’t think I would have had the strength to face a random doctor.

-You won’t have to now. I’ll be there until the very end. Here, the pictures of your baby. – in a small white folder there were about four copies of the ultrasound, your little bean perfectly nestled against its mom, the sight warming your heart even further. You could not wait until your arms cradled it against your chest. - On the next appointment I can try and record the heartbeat so you can listen to it whenever you want, but I can’t promise it. I’ve never done it. Now, go home and let it all sink in, I need to finish with your profile.

-You won’t tell the Coven, will you? – there was a tinge of worry in her voice, and you knew perfectly why. As much as you knew Agatha would be great with the baby once it was born you were unsure how she would react to this whole thing and Lilia didn’t want to have to deal with all that but also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Agatha might be a lot of things, but deep down she was a kid that needed a mom, and Lilia had taken it upon herself to be that maternal figure for her. She didn’t want her to feel displaced or to remember Nicky every time she laid eyes on the older witch.

-Not unless you want me to Lilia. This news is yours to share whenever you decide. I’ll keep the secret.

-Thank you, for everything. We’ll see you tomorrow.

-At eight sharp. Don’t have anything to eat before that time.

With a swift nod that made her peppery curls bounce Lilia wrapped up the consultation. Jen acknowledged your wave, which she returned with a smirk before she returned to her computer and your girlfriend pulled out into the corridor. You hadn’t discussed payments you realised when you were both halfway down the hallway, but it seemed rude to leave Lilia standing there under the bright white lights and antiseptic atmosphere to find out if this appointment could be paid with cash or card, you would simply wait for the billing department to slam their crazy prices on a letter and curse them as you said goodbye to your savings. Anything for your child and Lilia, you thought. But even with those financial questions in your mind, your feet carried you as if you were weightless, skipping until you stood before the lift. You felt high on life, and looking over to your left you saw that Lilia was the same, a foolish smile on her lips that wouldn’t fall, her fingers caressing the envelope as if it held the most precious information the world had ever seen. You were both drunk with love and joy. Stepping out of the lift and into the parking lot you opened the car, the silence inside the vehicle deafening as soon as Lilia was sitting beside you, her door closing with a quiet slam.

-And it all started because you wanted some Doritos.

-Yeah. Who would have thought?

-Not me, but I can’t say that I’m not grateful for buying those tests and making you do something stupid with me.

-Which turned out to be not so stupid.

-Let’s celebrate our baby.

-I can’t drink, Y/N

-I know, but we don’t need alcohol. What do say that we go down to Raising Cane’s and have a nice date at home?

-No, let’s go to Zaxby’s and then we can have a nice date at home. I’m fancying one of their Cobb salads and their cheddar bites.

-Whatever the mother of my child desires.

-The mother of your child? – you melted under her tender gaze, eyebrows raised at your statement even though her eyes were sparkling, like oaks that burned slowly in a chimney on a cold winter evening as snow falls in small flakes around the lampposts outside. It was impossible to not cradle her face between your hands, her warm skin on the tips of your fingertips and on your palms, bringing her closer and closer until it was just her lips on yours, no Jen inside this car, not even a security guard making rounds. Her mouth parted gladly to let you push your tongue in, battling lazily with hers as if there was no rush, no clocks ticking for once, letting her trace the shape of your lower lip as her hands came to rest around your waist, your heat mingling with hers over your shirt. Your lungs were screaming for air after a few seconds, but you didn’t wish to separate, hoping that you would be able to crawl under her skin and hold her with the strength of your body and mind so she would not have to overexert herself, the weight of the world over your back as you sheltered her. She was the first to part, her hot breath tickling your nose as your forehead pressed against hers.

-The love of my life and the mother of our child.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

CONSTELLATIONS OF VITAL PHENOMENA.

PAIRING — bucky barnes x f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; fluff; angst; greek mythology elements (i took so many liberties with this so pls don’t come at me with your notes ☝🏻🤓 okay?); first-person narration/told from Eros’s pov; kind of a valentine’s day special but also not really? idk.

SUMMARY — For the first time ever, Eros’s arrow strikes the wrong target. And now, the god of love is faced with the task of unravelling the newly formed bond between Bucky Barnes and a woman the Fates have decided is not his soulmate—and yet.

WORD COUNT — ~3.7k

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

I like to check up on you all every now and then. It’s how I learn, and there is still much to know about you mortals, even after all this time. 

And there’s just something extremely unsatisfying about leaving a story unread, isn’t there? Especially if it is a tale I helped set in motion. 

Cinque Terre is a lovely chaos of patterns and vivid colours, and under the azure sky with a cup of gelato in hand, I adjust my hat and pretend to be preoccupied with the sight of the sparkling sea, smiling to myself as I observe a pair of lovers standing nearby. 

The cheeky little things are supposed to be wrapping up a work trip, but before they leave this little slice of Mediterranean paradise, they pretend for a moment that they’re on a romantic getaway. 

They hold each other by the waist as they breathe in air rich with the mingling aromas of freshly baked focaccia and the briny sea, and anyone who looks upon them will know they are in love. 

I even check on the stories I know are doomed. Fret not, my human friend. Stories end, my dear, but love never does. It lingers, do you know that? 

Maybe you decide to keep it, perhaps you feel stronger that way, looking back on a tale cut short and choosing to carry it with you. 

Maybe you end up letting it go, maybe—though beautiful while it lasted—it’s holding you back from an even brighter future. It remains regardless. It settles back into the earth, floats into the sky, clings to the stars—sparkles almost like fairy dust in the sunlight. 

Shall I tell you about the first time I ever had to bring about an ending? 

It all began with that oblivious couple standing right over there, still holding each other as the beating heart of the Italian Riviera works its subtle magic on them. 

You and Bucky turn to each other and share a smile, sharing a tender kiss under the creamy orange light of the rapidly setting sun. 

It all began with a mistake, you see, because I never miss. 

It was a harsh lesson to learn, that even us gods aren’t infallible, but sometimes, mistakes are good. 

That’s what I like very much about you mortals. 

“I love you, Bucky.” 

The words were released upon a single shaky breath, as though you’d been holding them back for aeons. You stared up at him with watery eyes, looking both relieved of some immense burden and terrified at the same time. 

“I always have,” you admitted almost sheepishly, hopefully. 

And Bucky swore it was like he’d been shot through the heart, but instead of doubling over in pain, he couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at his lips. His shoulders lifted as he breathed in, like he was inhaling fresh air for the very first time. 

His cheeks were tinged pink in the chilly late winter air, but he didn’t even so much as shiver. In fact, he was warm right down to the tips of his fingers. 

Bucky had absolutely no choice but to say it back, because of course he did, and you smiled at him brighter than the sun. He decided right then and there that he would gladly blind himself in your light. 

His heart stuttered when you rushed forward to wrap your arms around him, and it didn’t take very long at all for his lips to find their way to yours. 

But unfortunately, heartache always began with apparent joy. 

Because something shifted in the atmosphere. A hush seemed to fall over New York as the first nearly frozen raindrop splashed onto the sidewalk. Another followed, then another, and then another, until the silence was soon filled with the staccato beat of impending rain. 

You and Bucky didn’t seem to care, however, still holding each other in a tight embrace, exchanging warm breaths and whispering love against touching lips. 

I, on the other hand, cast a wary glance up at the darkening heavens. A sense of urgency unfurled within me as the once-clear sky morphed into a brooding tapestry of greys and blacks, transforming the city streets into a mosaic of shimmering puddles. 

At first glance, it might have seemed like an ordinary downpour to anyone but the most discerning eye, but to me? 

I knew immediately that Zeus was angry. The sky momentarily brightened with a flash of lightning, a clap of thunder boomed loud enough to make even Barnes flinch. 

It could only mean one thing: I had just made a mistake of cosmic proportions. 

The nock of my arrow was still inexplicably sticking out of your chest (well, don’t worry, no one else could see it… wouldn’t that be morbid?), even though that arrow was most certainly not meant for you. 

But as Bucky cradled your face in his hands, touching his nose to yours, making you laugh despite being drenched in freezing rain, I found a stillness. A momentary peace. 

Because how could a love like that, so palpable to anyone with a heart and a soul, possibly be a mistake? 

“No, Eros,” Clotho murmured with finality when I arrived back in Olympus in a frenzy, not even looking up from her distaff and spindle. Her two sisters, Lachesis and Atropos, cackled amongst each other, completely unashamed that the subject of their mockery—spoiler alert, it was me—was still well within earshot. 

“You didn’t even take a moment to consider it!” I complained, but of course they wouldn’t. 

They already believed me to be an immature and naive god in comparison, and this proposal of mine—and the fact that my arrow was currently burrowed into the heart of the wrong person—only proved them right in their eyes. 

“Measures such as the one you’re suggesting—” Atropos, the eldest of the Fates, cut in. Her youngest sister was now once again far too busy with her life’s work, weaving the countless threads of life and death to pay any more attention to my concerns. “—must only be taken in the most dire of circumstances.” 

“The balance of the cosmos has already been upset, what circumstances could possibly be more dire?” I demanded.  

One side of the Earth was under a torrential rainstorm, and the other side was being ravaged by wildfires. Conflicts were breaking out in areas of longtime peace, and humanity was beginning to lose faith in itself. 

I wanted to scoff, to roll my eyes so hard they might as well have fallen right out of my skull, even as Atropos waved her abhorred shears so manically in my face. 

In reality, I knew their refusal was because the Fates were considered above us all as enforcers of the universe’s will. Who would dare be arrogant enough to question their judgment? Not even Zeus himself. 

“You already know all this, Eros,” Lachesis, the middle sister, whacked me on the head with one end of her measuring rod, making me flinch before she batted away Atropos’s menacing hand. “You are embarking on a fool’s errand. Once the Moirai have decided, you cannot change our minds.” 

“I see the business of love has made you soft, boy,” Atropos sneered, putting down her scissors and looping a thread of life around one of her bony witch-like fingers. She toyed and tugged at it carelessly, despite the small noise of dissent from a concentrating Clotho, as though it wasn’t the literal lifeline of an actual living, breathing creature. 

“And I see the business of death has inevitably made you more ghoul than goddess,” I snapped back, beyond indignant, momentarily forgetting that my mission was to convince the sisters, not anger them. Atropos did snarl at me in response, but she ultimately did not refute my statement. 

Because Hades, despite being the ruler of the dead, remained one of a kind. Despite the fact that he rarely ever saw the sun, surrounded by all that death and anguish, he remained ethereal and compassionate.

You humans sometimes think the devil of him, but you have been very misinformed. Most of his wrath is exclusively reserved for those who try to cheat death, and that’s where the difference lies. 

James Barnes never actively tries to cheat death, he just somehow does.

Many times, the underworld scrambled to prepare for his arrival. Finally! they'd exclaim, the Furies rubbing their hands together in barely contained glee, satisfied that even the infamous Winter Soldier couldn’t outrun his destiny for that much longer. 

And so many times, Hades seemed almost unbothered, maybe even content despite the chorus of disappointment that sounded around him, as the human known as Barnes once again prevailed. 

Once again, he lived—despite all the odds.  

I firmly believe that’s why the Fates loathed him so, and refused to even entertain my request; this mere mortal was always managing to twist up their carefully laid plans, taking their interpretation of nature’s law and throwing it back into their faces, proving them wrong time and time again. 

It seemed, however, that was precisely the way it was supposed to be. The sisters would watch as the stars realigned themselves, the state of the cosmos resetting, and they would just sigh and… start over. 

I’d never seen anything quite like it in all my years, and even though the Fates still treat me like a child, by your standards I have been around too many to count. 

But that’s why it was all the more frustrating to me that they wouldn’t simply… do it all again. They had already been wrong about his destiny so many times, what was one more? 

“You were given three fine choices, Eros,” Clotho clicked her tongue in displeasure at my reluctance, her brows furrowing when her threads began to knot together. She put down her spindle, trying to unravel them but to no avail. She could not weave any further. “Fix your foolish mistake. And make haste before your trepidation upsets the cosmos, and Zeus, any further.” 

Fine choices. As if that was at all adequate when it came to matters of the heart. Still, I turned away to leave them, to follow their orders as woven, silently fuming and resentful. 

If they were willing and able to rewrite one’s life and death with but a flick of their wrists because it was “meant to be”, then why not love? 

It loomed just as large, if you asked me, if not larger than all else. And just as life and death were inevitabilities for all creatures, divine or mortal, so am I. 

So is love. 

Despite his almost celebrity status back on Mount Olympus, up close and personal James Barnes seemed… quite ordinary. Just like every other mortal, he had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Nothing extraordinary there. 

I suppose the crop of short brown hair and the days old stubble growing along a sharp jaw did something for him, and those insanely blue eyes certainly weren’t terrible to look at— 

“So… she doesn’t actually love me, is what you’re saying?” Barnes glanced up at me, brows drawn together in displeasure and confusion, still digesting what I’d just told him. 

The woman he loved—a tenacious and adorably stubborn colleague turned confidante turned into something so much more—was accidentally made to fall in love. 

Unfortunately for him, while his love for you was true, you were never prophesied to love him back. 

“Well…” I faltered, suddenly realizing how harsh it all sounded, especially with you sitting right next to him in the dim light of his Brooklyn apartment. 

Listen, despite how I was treated back in Olympus, I’d been doing this a very long time. I’d learned, for the most part, that despite the resilience of you mortals, the lot of you still prefer to be spoken to with the utmost delicacy and consideration. 

It was why I decided to tell you both before pulling the arrow out of your chest and taking back the love you’d so passionately professed to him just days earlier. 

I thought it would have been kinder this way. 

But as I considered the look of undisguised anguish on both your faces, I came to the inevitable conclusion that I still had much to learn. 

“That is not true,” you protested, grasping at Bucky’s hand and tugging at his arm so he’d look at you. Your eyes were full of pleading, and he didn’t pull away although his fingers remained slack next to yours. “I loved you way before he came around! I just never had the courage to say anything.” 

Despite the very devastating nature of the situation, I couldn’t help asking. “Are you two not at all surprised by my existence?” 

“I’m a hundred and seven years old,” Bucky grumbled, as if that figure was somehow impressive. “I’ve seen more than my fair share of stranger things.”

“And you’re not the first god we’ve ever met,” you offered carefully. 

Preposterous, I wanted to scoff. As if Thor could ever compare. Instead, I swallowed my biting retort and returned to the subject at hand, “You may be right. My arrows, as powerful as they are, cannot create something that isn’t already there.” 

Love cannot be manifested; it cannot be borne out of absolutely nothing. It is borne out of two hearts beating as one, something of a higher power that I cannot adequately explain even as the god of love. 

“Then—” you began hopefully, but I put up a reluctant hand to silence you. 

“It does not change the fact that you… well, I’m sorry, but you are not James’s soulmate.” It was written in your destinies to remain apart, and there was nothing I could do to change it. 

To this day, that felt very wrong to say. I wholeheartedly believed my arrow was precisely where it was supposed to be, but the Fates didn’t respect me let alone trust me. How could I, a brash and comparatively inexperienced young god, possibly know better than nature itself? 

No one was going to rewrite fate just on my word alone. 

And Clotho was right; she had offered three fine choices. I had an absolute spread of not one, not two, but three potential soulmates for Bucky to choose from. 

The first, I must admit, they got off to a rocky start. But between you and me, the most fun love stories do. The barbs exchanged between Samuel Wilson and James Barnes were always sharp, but the underlying tones of affection were always there. Sam is everything Bucky deserves in a future, a symbol of hope in more ways than one. 

The second could be an achingly beautiful story. Love finds its way back to two people who thought it had abandoned them; sorrow gives way to light, and that light illuminates something that’s lain dormant for years. The colour red, something Natasha Romanoff had always associated with misery and guilt, can then mean something new. 

And for the third and most obvious, love was already so intricately woven into their destinies, it was impossible to separate them. Remember when I said love lingers? Even now, after so many years apart, and even during those years apart, Steve and James love fiercely. It was simply not in their nature to do otherwise, and the strike of my arrow would ultimately not change very much. 

I could pick any one of them and it would not matter. All of them made perfect sense. In every single case, I knew he would end up happy. 

And yet. How terrible was it that said happiness was destined to come at a cost? 

“What will happen if you remove it?” Bucky asked, finally closing his fingers around yours. You moved to lean your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes to hide the shimmer of tears. 

“Removing it could mean any number of things,” I told him honestly, and it wasn’t exactly anything that had ever happened before. I had no past experience to draw from. “But I do know what it wouldn’t mean. It wouldn’t mean she never loved you at all.” 

It didn’t seem to reassure either of you, wasn’t the balm against the ache I hoped it would be.

I did not want to do it, especially not when I saw you steel yourself against the pain, but the balance of the universe was at stake. You might not have called yourself an Avenger, but you were every bit one of Earth’s mightiest heroes as you prepared to shatter your own dreams to save a world that would never know of your sacrifice. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, seemingly unaware that your tears had made it past your lashes and began trailing down your cheeks. You turned and grasped the sides of his face, looking him right in the eye. “Even if I’m not your soulmate, even if we don’t end up together, I will be so happy for you.” 

Because Barnes would continue to love and receive it in return. In that case, what was there to really lament, other than your own heartache?

“I… sweetheart, please.” His forehead fell against yours. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

“It’s okay, Buck, because I love you,” you tried to smile, to be strong, but it twisted and mangled into something less sweet and more crushing. “I don’t care what happens after this, I will always love you. Okay?” 

“Please…” He pleaded again, voice so small yet thick with emotion I had to look away. “I love you too. So damn much. I can’t—” 

“Okay?” You stressed once more, thumbs gently caressing the apples of his cheeks. “Tell me you understand.” 

He shook his head. “I just found you. I can’t lose you now.” 

“You will never lose me.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Barnes didn’t seem to care he had an audience as he wept into your shoulder. 

I did what I had to do, despite how much I hated it. I reached forward and grasped the nock of that blasted arrow, and pulled it free. It disintegrated in my hands, dissipating like the light of an extinguishing star. 

The two of you held each other tight, and I could not bear to watch any further as I left you to finish your goodbyes. I returned to Olympus utterly dejected, my own grief as plain as day. 

After days of moping, Aphrodite halfheartedly tried to reassure me that things would work out; all I had to do was try again with a new arrow meant for the right person this time. 

“Hurry up already,” she said when she’d finally had enough, shaking her head with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The cosmos needs rebalancing, like, yesterday.” 

But she did not understand. I grieved for all true love lost, no matter how short-lived or star-crossed. 

And when I’d finally finished licking my wounds, I was about to embark for Earth once more, prepared to set Clotho’s prophecy and nature’s will in motion, my quiver secured over my shoulder. 

Until I was summoned. The Fates were calling for me, and it was the youngest of the Moirai who greeted me when I arrived. Her expression was grim and her shoulders squared in what I believed was preparation for another round of criticism. 

Lachesis and Atropos were lounging in their own chaises, refusing to make eye contact and mumbling angrily under their breaths. Clotho beckoned me closer to her loom, her strings now neat and free from their tangles, and I peered down at the thread of fate I had supposedly severed just days earlier. 

“I don’t understand,” I told her, staring incredulously at what I recognized to be your thread of life. It was now tightly woven together with Barnes’s. 

I put down my quiver, and almost immediately, the storm clouds over the planet cleared, the rumbling at the centre of the earth stopped, and the tension in the heavens finally began to abate. 

Clotho sighed, suspicions confirmed, the words coming out reluctantly through a tightly clenched jaw. “You were right.” 

It took a moment to sink in. 

The event that upset the universe wasn’t that my arrow had struck you by supposed mistake, or that you had declared a love for James Barnes that was never supposed to be returned. 

It was that we were about to chose the wrong soulmate after all, despite how perfect they’d all appeared on paper—er, thread. 

I laughed, I rejoiced, I celebrated. Even Atropos ended up cracking a smile in the end. 

“Well, what do you know?” She said, joining me as we watched Clotho weave the rest of your story.

Despite the lack of an arrow, love—as always—remained. 

Earth is stained in pretty hues of pink and red today. Normally, I find the whole display a little much. 

Love is meant to be lived every single day—boldly, shamelessly, proudly—not left to be openly expressed just once a year. 

But rest assured, some of you do it right. 

“Mi scusi, quanto costa?” I hear a voice, turning my head to see you and Bucky staring right at me. I break into a wide smile, disguised as a stranger and putting on my best accent—neither of you recognize me. 

“Per la bellissima coppia? Ottanta euro,” I tell him, even though it’s well past the evening rush. Bucky grins as he hands over the notes, taking your hand and tugging you along until you’re both stepping safely into the gondola. 

“Bucky,” you scold gently, voice lowered to a whisper, but you’re smiling just as wide as he is. “We’re going to miss the extraction point—!” 

But then you’re falling into his arms as he pulls you closer by the waist, laughing when he leans down for a kiss, lips missing your cheek and landing on your nose instead. 

“Just for a little longer, sweetheart,” he implores, blue eyes earnest and impossible to resist. “Just you and me.” 

You relent, utterly helpless, and whisper, “Say something else in Italian.” 

“Ah, si?” He laughs, a sound as rare as the man himself. “Sai che ti amo?” 

You hum appreciatively, leaning against his shoulder, “I don’t think I’ll need a translator for that one.” 

I turn away as I row down the canal to give you some semblance of privacy, singing a love song towards the moon you no doubt aren’t even listening to. You’re too busy continuing to defy all expectations as you fall deeper in love to even notice, and I tilt my head up towards the sky. 

How satisfying, no? I want to laugh. The stars wink back at me mischievously, as if telling me not to push my luck. 

You share a sweet kiss under the stars, and I take a moment to bask in the rightness of it all. I must admit, I can’t help but feel a little smug. 

Because sometimes, mistakes are good. Sometimes, mistakes are the best beginning. And sometimes, perfectly, they turn out not to be mistakes at all. 

After all, didn’t I already tell you? 

My dears, I never miss. 

fin.

NOTES — it has been A MINUTE since i wrote for bucky and i lowkey hate how this turned out but you know what, i need to stop obsessing! even if i was very unserious about the greek mythology stuff lmao. anyway, happy valentine’s day my lovelies! i hope you are feeling loved today, because i love you 🥰💕

also, the title of this fic was inspired from a book that has nothing to do with anything lol… but go read said book by anthony marra and prepare to cry your eyes out. you’re welcome.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[snoopyhq]

i literally love your writing sm omg,,

i was wondering if you could write viktor helping reader get over a bad breakup?

sorry if that's a little vague-

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ me and my head high, and my tears dry, get on without my my guy

type: viktor x reader (slight jayvik x reader if you want to squint, but this one is viktor centric 🐺)

summary: fic of viktor comforting reader after a bad breakup

word count: 1527

a/n: guys, you know what's crazy? i LITERALLY broke up with my ex recently, wow. this ask and my response is going to be bit personal to be quite honest with you guys 😭 i'm much better off, trust, but damn, it's still awful. i hope you're feeling better and finding all the little joys you deserve, tumblrina

Skip. Skip again. [2 seconds. no. skip]. Skip skip skipskipskip

Your finger mindlessly hit the button. No matter what song it was, your mind simply didn't care for it. Even if it was your carefully curated masterpiece of breakup songs-made just for the occasion-your heart just couldn't muster the energy. You were usually able to lose yourself in song. To ease your emotions into the carefully crafted motifs made through measures and lines.

Not today though.

When you think about Before, all you could feel was, well... nothing. There wasn't an ounce of sadness you could summon. That emptiness welling up inside you felt crushing, like being held beneath water and pushed further and further down at an agonizing pace.

The heaviness took its toll.

You had promised yourself that what happened that fateful day stayed between you two, and the ever faithful pages of your well-loved journal. No one else would be privy to the way your heart found a way to break into a million new fragments.

So far, it's worked.

You kept to your usual routine. You interacted with your friends, you kept up appearances, and made an effort to at least look like your life wasn't slowly losing color day by day. That didn't mean everyone was immune to the walls you were so good at putting up.

Jayce had been the first one to voice his suspicions out loud, to Viktor of course. He had expressed his concern for your wellbeing after you had spent an entire afternoon hardly responding, and only after multiple repeats of your name did you focus on any conversation directed at you. Viktor agreed, having observed that too.

You had unconsciously begun gravitating towards larger groups. You didn't give yourself moments alone with anyone. That would make it harder to pretend you were fully ok.

Jayce began giving you extra attention after he and Viktor reached the same consensus. Giving you more desk space, inviting you to sit with him, and bringing you food without you having asked. You were grateful, and made sure to tell him for every deed. Viktor was more subtle in his care, but his calming presence was there.

Waiting to walk with you out of the lab so you wouldn't be alone. Deliberately changing the music he usually played to songs he knew you liked. Leaving small, unsigned notes of encouragement around for you to find.

Everyone was so sweet, and you couldn't help but feel worse.

You weren't stupid. You figured out that they had figured out that there was something deeply wrong. You just didn't want them to ask. So, with that worry now in mind, you doubled your efforts to pass off as A-OK. You started joking around with Jayce more, and hovering over Viktor's shoulder to pester him while he worked on recording his notes for the day. He would grumble and bat at you, but it was half-hearted at best.

Viktor and Jayce would exchange small glances, subtle nods. They were both glad you were back.

Except you weren't.

You hadn't expected the radio to switch to Your Song. As the familiar chords progressed and the romantic lyrics played, everything you repressed for weeks finally came to the surface, gasping and clawing at your throat for air. You broke down completely, your body wracked with grief.

Your head fell forward on the wheel, and you had to resist the urge to scream until your throat and lungs collapsed.

Why did it, what went wrong, blame him, blame you, blame whoever and whatever, it happened anyways and there was nothing to be done now, it's OVER so why?

The parking lot was empty. That was the only tangible thought you could form, the truth a small comfort.

Except it wasn't.

The universe really thinks it's got jokes, huh?

His amber eyes were fixated on your vulnerable form. His brows furrowed, his mind already racing to figure out everything in front of him. There was no way this was a new, sudden bout of sorrow.

With his shoulders set, he picked up his brisk pace, not stopping until he was beside your car. He rapped on the window with his hands, startling you out of your misery.

At first, all you could do was stare. Curse your luck. Viktor was witnessing your breakdown in Real Time. Your face was streaked with tears and snot and probably some unholy mix of eyeliner and whatever remained of your carefully constructed look for the day. You rolled down the window.

"... 'Sup?" you croaked. It sounded just as pathetic as it felt.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

You unlocked the passenger door.

For a moment, there was only a long, tense silence. Finally, he broke it with a wordless hug. And gods above, did you need that. You knew he wasn't someone who freely gave away his touch, so you made sur to cherish this.

Wiping your eyes, you reached over and changed the music, raising the volume up until it was enough to shake your poor car. You didn't care.

Neither did Viktor. He would wait for you, until you were ready to say what you need.

"It's over," you finally blurted out, barely audible.

Viktor sighed, and lowered the music.

"We broke up," you said again.

Ah.

"I don't know. I think deep down, we always knew it was inevitable. I think I did, at least. Our goals were never going to align. I don't think he saw a future where I could fit, despite all the compromises I've made for him. Why did I let myself do that? For love?"

You laughed at that. It sounded so ridiculous when you voiced it plainly. No more justifying it to yourself for hours on end. Just you and Viktor, in the safety net of darkness your car provided, the treeline the audience to your eyes.

"Don't get me wrong. I did some damn awful things too. I let things drag on for much longer than they should've gone. I held out for nothing and all that did was make it worse. How could I have been so foolish? I used to think I was somehow above the petty strains of heartbreak. I mean! I read the books. I watched the shows. I observed and I listened and I took every damn precaution at every turn, and it still ended like that."

You took in a shuddering breath.

"In all my obsession with being prepared, I forgot to pay attention to the aftermath. I don't know how to heal. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I have tried so, so hard to find myself again after everything. And I'm reasoning it with the fact that my dopamine neurotransmitters have conditioned me to feel the motivation and reap the rewards that love offered, making the sudden loss of a romantic relationship so terribly hard to adjust to. But that's not enough, Viktor. I can't comfort myself with a bullet point list. What is wrong with me?"

Viktor let you talk. He listened, taking it all in and turning it over carefully in his head. When there was a lull in your confessions, he spoke, carefully choosing his words.

"I believe a good start would be to find your support system, and to let us in, even if only a little bit. You have Jayce. You have me. Let us remind you that you aren't alone," he said gently.

"And another thing. You are correct with your statements. This grief and inability to cope with loss can be reasoned with psychology. You can acknowledge that both of you did awful things. You can say and do all you want to remain as impartial as you can, so you don't end up worse for wear, but it is ok to also acknowledge you were hurt."

"Not everyone you love or have loved treated you like they should have. And I believe letting that truth overshadow your neutral acknowledgement will help you heal. Your self worth is in shambles. That is heartbreaking. You are a brilliant aspect to so many lives. Never doubt that, and never diminish that."

He somehow knew all the right things to say. Sweet, brilliant Viktor. You could feel your eyes welling back up with tears.

"Thank you. You're right. Finally telling someone has made me feel lighter. I do feel better. You're a wonderful friend to me Viktor. I can never thank you enough," you whispered, your voice breaking as it trembled.

"No need to thank me," his hand found yours, giving it a grounding squeeze. "When you're ready to talk about it some more, I will be there. If you choose to never think of that terrible time again, then that is ok too. Whatever you choose to do, know you are supported. You are loved, and not just for circumstance."

With that, it was like the clouds could finally begin dissipating. Your music slowly cranked back up. You start the engine again, your drive back to the dorms no longer blurred by tears. For the first time since it happened, you felt like you could finally see again.

[sergentreckless]

Jake Seresin Princess AU

Author's Note: Hello my little chili babies, I cranked this one out a while ago and I'm posting it right before going to a class, woohoo. It is the first thing I've written in this form, so don't be too mean please. I hope you like it!

Edit: I did not proof read this

Kisses,

Reckless

Warnings: It's pretty tame, AU, implied stuff? Let me know if I missed any please, love you

WC: 736 (super short)

Summary: You're a princess and Jake is your devoted Knight

Jake is your personal Knight

It is his job to protect you, to make sure you’re safe

And oh boy… did he love his job

Your curly hair bouncing off your shoulders as you frolic through the palace gardens. Running through rows of daisies and tulips, he can’t help but stare wondrously at your gorgeous smile. She looks so happy, he thinks, watching you.

As you continue to explore the grounds at your second home, only reserved for spring, your loyal knight will follow you everywhere. He is quite stoic, not talking much, but always observing. After all, it is his job to make sure you are safe; he certainly wouldn’t do it for any other reason. Not because he had fallen in love with you since he’d become your guard.

Your glowing personality drew him to you, and he had never been happier for a job placement in his life.

He had become an extremely respected and trusted knight after being a major lead in securing your countries victory in a war that seemed hopeless. He had been promoted to be the princess’ personal knight

Though he had never met you, he heard stories of your beauty. From the other knights that had protected the balls and parties your kingdom threw; he had been told all about the princess who glided effortlessly along the ballroom floor

How her hair fell loose on her shoulder

How she looked so natural and it was no wonder she was the kingdom’s pride and joy

After he had gotten called in by your father and appointed to be your knight, he could not wipe the smile off his face

And you…

Well, you were mighty suspicious of this new guard of yours

He is so pretty, too pretty… what brought a man like him into knighthood? Maybe he had an unstoppable dedication to protect his kingdom

As you get to know him, you learn to trust him more

You come to terms with the fact that he will be with you everywhere

You talk to him and joke with him, getting to know him more and more everyday

And he falls in love with you more and more every day

As you run through the fields of flowers, you dash towards your knight, grabbing his hand and dragging him along with you

He picks up his feet and follows along the pace you set, running behind you, desperate to keep up

He cannot lose you, but more than that, he does not want to be away from you, to lose the feeling of your touch

The cold gloves of his armor ward off the normal heat of the world, but your hand wrapped around his warms his soul

As you drag him through the grass and flowers, he recognizes just how far you are getting from the palace grounds

And as he opens his mouth to protest, you bring your lips to his unexpecting ones, still agape from the words stuck on his tongue, starting to process the new warm feeling you introduced

His princess was kissing him

He shouldn’t do this, this is inappropriate, this is wrong, he could be demoted, or hanged

But nothing he could do, no thought he could legitimately fathom, ever included him rejecting your kiss

It’s so warm, so inviting, so… everything he has thought of since he met you

He returns your kiss with little hesitation, so little so that you know he has never thought of truly rejecting you

After all, it is his job to listen to you and follow your orders, whether spoken or not

As you pull away, he can’t help but reach for more, a gesture that only gets met with soft giggles

Your foreheads rest against each other’s as he catches his breath from the intense grasp you held him in

“Sir Seresin, I desperately need your help with a problem I have been facing” you whisper into his ears, leaving him with goosebumps

As you bring yourself to lay in the thick grass covering the plains near your palace, you grab Jake’s hand, guiding his form on top of yours

He lets you bring him to the ground, gently pressing his weight on top of yours

Beautiful green eyes peering into your own, you bring your hand to his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, giving him goosebumps

“What can I do for you, Princess?”

[natalyarose]

𝓈𝒶𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 (𝓋𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜) ♡

My little sister introduced me to Sabrina Carpenter and I gotta say I loove her!! Not necessarily my type of music, but the older I get, the more I realise how every genre has something so beautiful to offer and it just makes me so happy to see ART and joy in this world of any kind :')

My first thought is she's gottaaa be Sun influenced- the pastel, literally sunny visuals, the bubbly smile & attitude, the 'lightness'. I find Solar women possibly the easiest to spot- even Sun women I've met who have 'darker' personalities & aesthetics still offer this light energy. I checked, and she is Krittika Sun! (I know she's getting very popular now so this is all probably old news to a lot of people lol but just thought I'd share).

ALSO, I've noticed people remarking on how she is bringing the element of dance and full 'performance style' back into music. Krittika is intimately connected to the art of dance.

Then she has Moon conjunct ascendant in Purvabhadrapada, in the 1st house! Classic Jupiterian sass & vocals (Jupiterians often have gorgeous and or very powerful voices since Jupiter traditionally rules the throat) + Purvabhadrapadas position as the archetypal 'femme fatale' is referenced in her song 'Feather'. Religious imagery is common to see with Purvabhadrapda natives too given the bhadrapada Nakshatras relation to sacrifice.

Since she has Purvabhadrapada Moon; this makes her yoni animal the lion- glamorous, proud, strong.

I noticed someone comparing her energy/demeanour/look in her music video for her song 'Espresso' to Sharpay in Highschool Musical, who is played by Krittika Ascendant, Ashley Tidsdale. Definitely a nice depiction of Krittika energy- being in Taurus, we see Venus (beauty, pleasure, luxury, art) combined with Sun (joy, warmth, self love, authority). Edit - y'all I think I got confused between different birth time sources, but Ashley is in fact mostly Bharani ascendant HOWEVER, with Venus in Krittika ruling her chart.

As well as Sun & Jupiter Nakshatras' abundant qualities, I think Sabrina having Moon in the 1st definitely helps to garner likability & widespread appeal. Moon reflects whatever is around it, so she's going to be somebody who as an artist, is naturally attuned to public opinion. Moon in the 1st can have a knack for identifying what is popular, and reflecting it back through their persona or art in their own way.

With Sabrina's Sun, Moon & Asc consisting entirely of Purvabhadrapada & Krittika, this makes the energies of the 'brahmin caste' extremely relevant to her. Brahmin Nakshatras tend to be associated with spirituality, knowledge, education, prestige or a 'priestly' quality. Of course, not always especially since the ways in which each Nakshatra works is very unique; but heavily Brahmin influenced people tend to find themselves in very privileged positions in life- even if they're in a rough spot, they carry themselves with an aura of importance and therefore tend to easily attract what they desire.

As I talked about in my Vishakha women post, especially Vishakha but honestly strong Jupiter influence in general is often somewhere in the charts of those who have the type of fame where they are ever expanding & deeply influencing the masses.

Anyway, I'm eating up her music videos lol, the solar energy is so uplifting- sorta makes me nostalgic for the 2010s, when mainstream music & trends was a lot more solar inclined in that way. Some may have considered it shallow (my edgy 12 year old self sure did lmao) but honestly I think there can be something very spiritual about artists making music that's just fun, joyful and silly.

Thankyou for reading & I definitely want to do more small observational/analysis posts like this! ♡

[popcornforone]

A Sky For Us

A Javi Gutierrez Fan Fic

It’s time for some sunshine. I need some soft Javi G & I think you all need it too.

Synopsis:- Your life is turned upside down when Javi Gutierrez walks into the Art Gallery you curate.

Word Count:-8500

Warnings:-unprotected PIV sex is implied to have happened or about to happen, alcohol, powers play, mention of the mafia & uncomfortable past, swearing, mild stalking. It’s mainly all soft & vulnerable.

Thanks as always for reading peoples

There you sat watching everyone. Contemplating deeper meaning, trying to visualise what everything meant. 6 years studying art had lead you to do one of your favourite things in the world. People watching. Almost an art in itself. Almost as clear & for-filling as a smog free day in London. Yes it was now summer but through the busy city & all its grey you could look up every now & then & see a small patch of blue sky. The sun trying to bring you joy & vitamin D. At night the stars when you go to the park are bright, you just wish to observe them for hours. But you know that’s not possible.

You were fascinated by what made people tick. Especially with art. So many different opinions, there was always a conversation to be had. Be it just the words intriguing or complex. You get like in the few minutes these strangers were in the gallery you had curated that you knew them better than any lover. You felt at one, at peace with the art & the clientele. Some people may go this isn’t a job but for you it’s more a way of life.

The bell above the gallery door chimed softly, signaling the entrance of a new visitor. You glanced up from your chair, ready to greet yet another potential buyer, but the man who stepped inside was… different. Tall, sun kissed curls just slightly tousled, an expensive but slightly rumpled linen suit clinging to broad shoulders. A scarf, why did he need a scarf? It was the middle of June. But what struck you most weren’t the clothes, nor even the slight hesitation in his step, but the way his eyes moved across the room, wide with awe. You knew that look. The look of someone who actually loved art. It’s the look you often see in yourself reflecting back from a frame. Well, that, or a man who wanted you to think he loved art just long enough to haggle over prices. Still, you mustered a polite smile as he approached.

“Welcome.” You walked across to go & meet this captivating stranger & said your name “Can I help you find something?”

His gaze finally landed on you, & for a moment, he just… stared. Then, with the most dramatic sincerity you’d ever heard, he exhaled,

“Hermosa.”

Your brows lifted.

“Excuse me?” You don’t speak to much Spanish but you caught that.

The man blinked, realizing what he’d just said.

“Ah! I mean, the… erm its… the gallery. It is beautiful.” He cleared his throat, smiling in a way that was both endearing &a little too charming. “As are you.” He’s flustering as he adjusts his scarf. Clearly he’s uncomfortable now for lots of reasons.

You had to bite back a laugh. So, he was one of those collectors. Still, there was something disarming about him, something almost earnest beneath the obvious flirtation. You folded your arms, tilting your head slightly.

“Are you looking for a particular piece, or do you just make a habit of complimenting curators?”

The man’s smile turned sheepish, but he recovered quickly. “Ah, well, I am always looking for inspiration. Something to move me. To speak to my soul.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Rich, upertys & their dramatics.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” you said, gesturing toward the room. “We have a wonderful selection of contemporary & classic pieces. Do you collect often?” He clasped his hands behind his back, nodding.

“Yes. I am very passionate about art. The emotions, the stories, the…”he waved a hand dramatically at a nearby painting, “…way it transports us!” He clearly wanted to gush more but stopped himself. You followed his gaze to the piece in question, a minimalist painting consisting of three blue squares of different shades & textures on a white background. You smirked.

“& what is this one saying to you?”

He hesitated in his reply. Clearly he was having a philosophical moment looking at this work of art.Then, with complete conviction,

“It is saying… that I should buy you dinner.”

Your smirk deepened. Oh, this was going to be fun. You gave him a knowing look, arms still folded. Ah. So that’s his angle. It wasn’t uncommon. Wealthy collectors, especially the charming ones who loved that it was all about them & got attention before a grand purchase, loved to play the game. Compliment the art, flatter the curator, act as though they were moved beyond words. & then, at just the right moment, they’d steer the conversation toward price negotiations, hoping their charm would knock a few digits off the tag. You’d seen it all before & you will see it all again. So, you kept your expression perfectly neutral & offered him a polite but practiced smile.

“I’m afraid dinner isn’t part of the sale.” You said politely not wanting to hurt the handsome gentleman’s feelings.

He brow furrowed slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that response.

“Oh, no, I…” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “That was not, well, yes, I would love to take you to dinner, but I did not mean it as…

Oooh I’m in trouble” He gestured vaguely between you & the painting, his usual eloquence momentarily failing him.

You just arched a brow. “Mhm.” His hands lifted in surrender, his smile a little desperate now.

“I swear to you, I am not trying to negotiate. I will pay full price! No, double price! If that proves to you that my intentions are pure, then I will do it.” He has the most adorable big brown eyes pleasing trying to prove that he just wants some art not you. It makes him even more endearing. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Ah, so you will have dinner with me?” He beamed back clearly mistaking all of this for progress or an eventual date. You sighed, stepping toward a nearby painting and pretending to adjust the label.

“Señor…?”

“Gutiérrez. Javi Gutiérrez.”

“Señor Gutiérrez,” you continued smoothly, liking the way the name Gutierrez sounded on your lips. “if you’re interested in a particular piece, I’d be happy to discuss its history & significance. But if you’re only here to flirt in hopes of getting a better deal…” Javi looked genuinely wounded. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, his hands pressing dramatically over his heart.

“Dios mío, do you think that is why I am here?”You turned back to face him, arms crossed again.

“Isn’t it?”

His eyes were wide, almost devastated. “No! No, no, no! I do not care about the prices! I care about you!”

You blinked. He froze.

The words just hung there between you, & you could see the exact moment Javi realized what he had just said. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to take it back, but it was far too late for that.

Slowly, you tilted your head. “You… care about me?” You’re wondering if you dreamed this up. A handsome Spanish man is telling you he cares for you. A man you’ve only known for 5 minutes. What have you done in any life to deserve something so wonderful. This doesn’t happen to people in real life, only in movies but you can feel the blood pump through your veins, all your hairs standing up on end at this prospect.

Javi swallowed hard, then, with a resigned little nod, lifted his chin. “Yes.” There was something so sincere in his eyes, so absolutely earnest, that for a split second, doubt flickered in your mind. Could it be possible that you’d misjudged him?

You stared at him, waiting for him to backtrack, to turn it into some exaggerated joke. But Javi Gutiérrez didn’t waver. If anything, he straightened his spine, as if fully committing to his confession.

Then, with a deep breath, he said, “I was in London a month ago. With Nicolas.” You blinked, momentarily thrown by the casual name-drop. Nicolas? “As in… Nicolas Cage”Javi continued as if this were completely normal. “He was filming something. I was visiting. & one after afternoon we walked down this street…” His hand gestured toward the front window as if retracing his own footsteps. “I was in the middle of telling him something very important, & then I saw you. Through this very window.” Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Javi continued, his voice softening. “I stopped in my tracks. Right here. Because for a moment, I thought I had seen a painting come to life.”

Oh, wow. Your heart did an embarrassing little flutter, but your brain, your rational logical brain, quickly shut it down, from either things being too good to be true or from being excited that a man this hand some & rich would be awe struck by you . You had to remind yourself that this was just a customer, who must be wealthy, yet somehow knows Hollywood elite & is also a professional flatterer. This was what he did. His confidence & charisma opened doors for him. He got what he wanted.

So, you folded your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “You expect me to believe that?”

Javi placed a hand over his heart as if wounded by your doubt. “Sí! Ask Nicolas if you do not believe me! He will tell you! I stood outside, staring like a fool, he had to drag me away.” He grabs his phone from his pocket “we can even call him.” Despite yourself, an amused smile tugged at your lips. The mental image of Nicolas Cage rolling his eyes & physically pulling Javi away from your gallery was… strangely believable. He a little goofball but an adorable yet handsome one.

Still, you tilted your head, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily.

“& yet, you didn’t come inside.” Javi exhaled, running a hand through his curls. God those curls look luscious

“Because I was afraid.” You blinked again, caught off guard.

“Afraid?” He nodded earnestly.

“Afraid that if I stepped inside, I would never want to leave.” & damn it, that one got you. You swallowed, looking away for a brief second to collect yourself. Professionalism. Maintain professionalism. Finally, you cleared your throat, meeting his gaze once more.

“Well… you certainly have a way with words, Señor Gutiérrez.” Javi smiled, hopeful at your response.

“Then you will have dinner with me?” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head.

“I still think you’re just trying to charm me into a deal.” Your heart is beating so fast though screaming at your rational head that this man wants to take you out for a meal. Yet Javi let out a dramatic groan, throwing his hands up.

“Why must you keep saying this? You are breaking my heart, mi amor.” You raised an eyebrow at the endearment, & he quickly corrected himself, “Not mi amor…I mean, not yet, but perhaps someday…” his face turning red. You held up a hand.

“Tell you what Javi, If you’re serious about this, you’ll have to prove it.”

Javi’s eyes lit up.

“Anything. I will do anything.”You smirked.

“Then come back tomorrow. No buying anything, no grand gestures, just you. & we’ll see if you’re really here for the art… or for me.” Javi pressed a hand to his heart, nodding solemnly.

“I accept your challenge.” He winked, looked at the painting with the squares one more time & then with a turn on his heel, walking toward the door with purpose, he headed to leave. He only stopped , turned back to ask , “But if I wanted to buy something later, that would still be allowed, yes?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Javi.”

His grin was pure delight as he backed toward the door. “Until tomorrow, hermosa.” & just like that, he was gone. Whisked away by a security guard you hadn’t noticed into a black Mercedes. You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair.

What the hell just happened? & why was this man now the only thing on your mind for the rest of your day at work. Those eyes imprinted into your mind. Such beauty in a glance.

The moment you got home, you kicked off your shoes, poured yourself a glass of wine, & sat down with your laptop. You weren’t usually one to google your customers, but something about Javi Gutiérrez nagged at you. He wasn’t just some wealthy collector, there was something oddly familiar about his name, something that tickled the edge of your memory. & the way he’d spoken, so sincere, so earnest, it was either the best act you’d ever seen or… something else entirely. You try to dismiss fancying him but the butterfly’s in your tummy tell you otherwise. You typed his name into the search bar & hit enter. Immediately, dozens of results popped up. News articles. Paparazzi photos. Fan pages. Your brows lifted. Okay, wow. He’s actually famous. You clicked the first article.

Javi Gutiérrez: From Crime Lord to Cinema’s Most Wholesome Superfan & screen writer.

Your mouth fell open. Crime lord?! You skimmed the article, your eyes darting over phrases like wealthy arms-dealing family, wrongly accused, exonerated, & friend of Nicolas Cage. There was even a photo of Javi and Cage at some film festival, laughing over drinks. You sat back in your chair, stunned. He hadn’t been lying this really was who he was. He was not putting on an act. he wasn’t just some rich art collector. He was Javi Gutiérrez, former suspected criminal, eccentric billionaire, & apparently, a man with an obsessive love of movies. You smile at this. Someone else for you to talk movies with.

You glanced at the next article.

Javi Gutiérrez Buys Rare Film Memorabilia at Auction for $2.5 Million—Just to Display It in His Home Theater

You snorted. Yeah, that tracks. But as you scrolled further, something became very clear: there was no mention of illicit scandals. No dating rumors. No stories of him sweet-talking women for deals or using his money to manipulate people. If anything, every interview described him as kind, dramatic, & almost painfully sincere. You chewed your lip, your fingers tapping against the desk. Falling for the man more as you continued to scroll j tk his past.

Meanwhile, across the city, Javi was pacing his luxurious suit he had at a fancy London hotel, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other pressed dramatically over his heart.

“She is magnificent,” he murmured to himself, staring out over the London skyline. “A vision. A masterpiece more stunning than any painting.” He turned abruptly, startling his security guard, Carlo, who had been standing near the door, stone-faced as always.”Carlo.” Javi pointed at him. “Did you see her?”

“No, Señor.”

Javi sighed wistfully, collapsing onto the couch remember every detail about you. “Her voice… like music. Her eyes… like the finest sapphires.” He took a sip of whiskey, then immediately set it down as if too consumed by emotions to drink. “& yet… she does not trust me.” Carlo remained silent. This was not the first time Javi had fallen into romantic despair over a woman he had just met. He rolled his eyes glad the Javi was so consumed in his affection that he couldn’t see it. “She thinks I only want a discount.” Javi let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back. “A discount, Carlo! As if I would insult her, insult art like that.”

Carlo finally spoke, voice dry. “& what do you plan to do about it?” Javi sat up suddenly, his expression shifting from despair to determination.

“I will prove myself. I will go back tomorrow, as she commanded. No purchases. No gifts. Just me.”He nodded to himself, as if steeling his resolve. “By this time tomorrow, she will know the truth.”

Carlo arched a brow. “Which is?”

Javi pressed a hand to his chest, eyes full of passion.

“That I am already in love with her.”

You barely slept, your mind consumed by Javi his charm his looks & his reputation. When you did stir from your slumber you suddenly remember what you had asked him & became a bag of nerves.

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. That’s what you told yourself as you opened the gallery for the day. You had spoken to clients & the owner & an artist yet your head was still thinking what if he doesn’t come. The fact that you’d been pacing up & down the gallery for the last twenty minutes when it had quietened down was Completely unrelated. The way you kept glancing toward the door every time the bell chimed, that was also just a Coincidence. The way your heart did a ridiculous little jump every time a tall man walked past the window? Well… that was just your body betraying you.

You had googled him last night. You knew who he was now. He wasn’t just some eccentric rich collector, he was Javi Gutiérrez. A man who had been accused of being a criminal, then cleared of it, & now spent his time collecting film memorabilia, gushing about art, & apparently, falling head over heels for you after one interaction.Which was insane. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you got your steps in.

“Are you expecting someone?” You snapped out of your thoughts, turning to see one of your colleagues, Sophie, giving you a knowing smirk.

“What? No.” You crossed your arms, clearing your throat. “I’m just, thinking.” You rub the back of your neck a nervous tick you have.

“Right.” Sophie said rolling her eyes. You caught that glance but Before you could call her out the door chimed behind you.

You could smell him. You’re never going to forget his musk. It was intoxicating. You didn’t turn around immediately. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You’d keep it cool, calm, professional. But then you voice betrays you.

“You came!”

You had turned without thinking, the words spilling out before you could stop them, & now Javi stood in the doorway, smiling softly, as if he’d been hoping to hear those exact words.

“Of course,” he said simply, as if there had never been any doubt. His grin infectious, damn it, that did something to you. You beamed bag your eyes looking like him like he was a new born puppy.

You quickly composed yourself, clearing your throat. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you actually would.” Javi placed a hand over his heart, tilting his head.

“Hermosa, when a woman as radiant as you tells me to be somewhere, I will be there.” Sophie let out a quiet snort behind you. You ignored her. This made Javi chuckle, clearly you’re both crap at hiding your feelings for each other.

“Well,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered, “you remember the rules? No purchases, no grand gestures?”

Javi nodded solemnly. “Just me.” You studied him for a moment, trying to figure him out. Was he truly this sincere, or was he just very good at playing the part? Either way, he was here. You exhaled, forcing yourself to remain professional.

“Alright, then. Let’s see what you think of art when you’re not trying to buy it.”

Javi grinned. “I have been waiting for this moment my whole life.” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite hide your smile. This was going to be interesting. Could he bluff his way through this or would he crumble or did he actually know what he was talking about.

Javi followed you through the gallery, hands clasped behind his back, eyes wide with appreciation. It was almost endearing, the way he took everything in so seriously, nodding to himself like he was mentally taking notes. For a while, he was quiet, only murmuring the occasional “Hermoso” or “Intriguing” as he studied the paintings. But then, he stopped in front of one. Your eyes couldn’t believe where he had focused his attention.

It was Your favorite piece. You practically begged the artist to have this in the Gallery. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t the kind of painting that screamed for attention. But something about the colors, the quiet brushstrokes, the subtle depth in its simplicity, it always pulled you in. It was of the most peaceful night sky you could imagine. Javi tilted his head, studying it. Then, after a long pause, he sighed dramatically.

“Ay, this one… no imagination.” You blinked. Shocked at his words.

“Excuse me?”Javi gestured vaguely at the painting.

“It is… fine. But it does not move me. It does not tell a story. It is just…” He made a small, unimpressed motion with his hands. “There.”

You stared at him, a flicker of irritation sparking in your chest.

“So, what, you think art has to be loud and obvious to be good?” Javi turned to you, eyebrows lifting slightly at your sharp tone. Then, to your absolute frustration, he grinned. Oh, he liked this. He liked the fact he had someone to question him. With his wealth & reputation not many people ever did. They all very much wanted to make him happy & say yes, no matter what the cost to them. You, you were different, in the best way possible. You weren’t afraid to say what you thought.

“I am only saying,” he said smoothly, “that it does not challenge the viewer. It does not demand attention.”

You folded your arms, you wanted to gush about this painting but that’s not the point of it so you prove a point about it.

“Maybe it doesn’t need to demand attention. Maybe the beauty is in its subtlety.” Javi hummed, amused.

“You like this one?” He smiling.

It catches you off guard

“I—” You hesitated, realizing too late that you’d just exposed yourself. “That’s not the point.” Javi turned fully to you now, hands on his hips, looking far too pleased with himself.

“No, no, this is good! This is what art is for, to start a conversation.” He gestured between the two of you. “Look at us! We are engaged! We are passionate! It is just like a dinner.” You narrowed your eyes. He’s a very clever man.

“How, exactly, is this like a dinner?”

Javi’s smile turned devastatingly charming. “Ah, well, a good dinner is not just about the food, it is about the company, the conversation. Sometimes, you agree. Sometimes, you challenge each other.” He stepped just a little closer, lowering his voice. “& that is what makes it exciting.”

Your breath caught for half a second. Damn him.You forced yourself to scoff, shaking your head. But secretly you were very impressed with him.

“So, what, you’re saying we’re having a dinner right now?”

Javi gave a small shrug.

“A verbal one, yes. But I still hope to have the real thing.” You exhaled sharply, turning back to the painting just so you wouldn’t have to look at his ridiculously earnest face. Also you could feel your face turning red.

“I still think you’re wrong about this piece,” you muttered after a small silence.

“Then, by all means, prove me wrong.” He said boldly. You inhaled slowly, eyes flickering back to the painting. This was your moment to prove your worth. He was going to be dumbfounded with your opinion on it.

“The sky,” you said quietly. “That’s what I love most about it.” Starting off being subtle, to see how he responds.

Javi tilted his head, following your gaze. “The sky?” He looks back at the painting but then his eyes never leave you. Admiring your passion for something so simple.

“It The way the purple fades into the deep blue, just before night fully takes over. It reminds me of being under the stars, somewhere far from the city. Somewhere quiet.” You traced the air in front of the canvas with your fingertips, as if following the brushstrokes. “It’s like an escape. A simple one. Just… looking up & letting yourself breathe.” Javi didn’t say anything right away.You could feel him watching you, but for once, he wasn’t grinning or teasing. He was just… listening.

After a moment, he exhaled, stepping a little closer. “I see it now,” he murmured. “It is not just a sky, it is a feeling, a moment…”

You glanced at him, surprised but glad he understood your take on it. “Exactly.”

His eyes flickered to your lips for half a second, but then he did something that caught you completely off guard. He reached out & took your hand. Gently. Softly. Just enough for his fingers to brush against yours before curling around them. Like he was handling priceless art afraid to break it. But you were his own masterpiece. Your breath hitched.

“Have dinner with me under the stars tonight,” he said. Not a question,a promise, a moment. Your heart thudded against your ribs. You should have hesitated. Should have pulled away, should have said you weren’t sure about him yet. But standing there, feeling the warmth of his touch, seeing the pure, unshaken sincerity in his eyes…You nodded. Your impish smile making your eyes dance.

“Okay.” You said simply & softly. Javi’s face lit up, his fingers tightening around yours like he needed to hold on to this moment.

“Okay?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His own voice hushed. A small smile tugged at your lips.

“Okay.”

Javi inhaled sharply, grinning so brightly that you were pretty sure he could power the entire gallery.

“You will not regret this, hermosa,” he said, lifting your hand and pressing a quick, feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “Tonight, I will show you the most beautiful sky you have ever seen.” & for the first time since meeting him, You believed him. He wasn’t playing games with you. The man was genuine & a gentleman.

The evening had arrived. You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your dress, exhaling slowly as you stepped out of the cab. This was not a date. Not really. That was what you kept telling yourself anyhow. It was just a very handsome rich man who you felt connected with having dinner, nothing else. Yes, you’d put on your best green dress, the one that always made you feel effortlessly elegant. Yes, you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time debating which earrings to wear. & yes, your stomach was doing a ridiculous little flutter as you walked through the lobby of Javi’s very expensive hotel. But that didn’t mean anything. You were just… curious. That was all.

A hotel staff member greeted you warmly before leading you up to the rooftop. The moment you stepped outside, you felt your breath catch. The rooftop was stunning. Strings of fairy lights hung overhead, casting a warm golden glow. A low table sat in the center, adorned with candles & a bottle of wine. & beyond it, stretching endlessly, was the London skyline, softly illuminated under a velvet-dark sky filled with stars. Just like the painting. Was this a dream? But your breath is caught for other reasons. There he was. Javi stood near the table, hands clasped in front of him, his face lighting up the second he saw you.

“Dios mío.” His voice was barely above a whisper, like the sight of you had physically staggered him. “You look…” He exhaled, pressing a hand to his heart. “Like a dream.” You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it with a smirk.

“I see you went all out for this dinner.” Javi beamed, stepping aside to reveal the most unexpected part of the setup, Take away Pizza. Two perfectly made pizzas, still warm, sitting in open boxes on the table. You blinked. Amazed that a man of such money just wanted Pizza. “Wait. You’re telling me that you, Javi Gutiérrez, could have ordered anything in the world, & you chose pizza?”

“Of course! Pizza is the perfect meal. Casual, comforting, best enjoyed under the stars. Just like art, just like dinner, it is meant to be shared.”

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Javi pulled out a chair for you, his eyes twinkling. “For you, always.”You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you sat down. He is such a gentleman. As Javi poured the wine, you glanced up at the sky, at the soft glow of the fairy lights, at the ridiculous man in front of you who had somehow managed to make you say yes to this & for the first time in a long time, You felt like you didn’t need to escape a man or your emotions.

The night stretched on in a warm haze of wine, laughter, & stolen glances. You had to admit, Javi was good company. The perfect man. He wasn’t just charming; he was genuine. He talked with his whole heart, every word filled with enthusiasm, whether he was rambling about cinema or asking you questions with such sincere interest that you almost forgot to keep your walls up & yet, even with all his larger-than-life theatrics, there was something quiet about this moment. Something honest.Something real.

You leaned back in your chair, swirling your wine glass between your fingers. “So, tell me, Javi… why this?”

Javi tilted his head. “Why what?”

You gestured around you. “Why the fairy lights? The pizza? The whole ‘dinner under the stars’ thing?”

Javi smiled softly. “Because you deserved something real, something special.”

You arched a brow. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to,” he said simply. Something in your chest tightened. Javi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. For once, there was no teasing in his expression, just quiet sincerity. “The truth is… I saw you before I ever walked into your gallery.”

You blinked. “What?”

Javi let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I wasn’t lying before, you have captured my heart just from me walking past the gallery, minding my own business with Nicholas, then I stopped. Right there, in the middle of the street, because I saw you inside.”

You felt your breath hitch. “Javi…” you feel the air leave your lungs.

He smiled wistfully. “You were looking at a painting. You had this little crease between your brows, like you were lost in it. I remember thinking, she sees the world differently.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I wanted to go in. To say something. But I didn’t.” Your heart was pounding. Javi gave a small shrug. “& then, fate brought me back to you if that’s what you wanna call it. “You had no idea what to say to that. Your walls, your carefully built skepticism, were cracking & crumbling as honest word escaped the most wholesome lips.Javi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You probably think I’m ridiculous.”

For once, you didn’t. Not even a little. You stared at him, at the way the candlelight flickered against his face, at the way his hands fidgeted slightly like he was nervous. You hadn’t seen that before. You hadn’t realized, until now, that beneath all his grand gestures & dramatic words…He meant it.

Without thinking, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing over his. Javi stilled. His breath caught, just for a moment, but then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours. The air between you shifted. His eyes flickered to your lips. Just for a second. Just long enough for you to realize what was about to happen. You let it, because you wanted it.

Javi leaned in, so softly, so slowly, as if afraid to break the moment. His lips barely ghosted over yours, just the lightest, most delicate press. Warm, hesitant, almost as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. that single, stolen kiss sent a shiver down your spine.When he pulled back, he searched your face, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Such a telling touch.

“Hermosa,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Tell me to stop, & I will.”

You swallowed, heart racing. But you didn’t tell him to stop. The kiss lingered in the air between you, warm & unfinished. You could still feel the ghost of his lips against yours, still feel the way his fingers had tightened around your hand, like he was waiting. Your heart & pounding & you wanted to close the space again. But instead, you hesitated.Javi noticed immediately. His brows furrowed just slightly, his grip loosening. “Hermosa?” He concerned he’s done something wrong.

You exhaled, pulling back just enough to steady yourself. “I googled you.”

Javi blinked, startled. “Oh.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I know who you are. What people say about you.” Javi’s expression changed in an instant. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something quieter. He sat back slightly, letting go of your hand.

“I see,” he murmured. He felt that he was about to lose something he never had. You hated the way he closed off like that. How the man who had been so open, so vulnerable, now looked like he was bracing himself for you to walk away.

You swallowed. “They call you dangerous.”

Javi gave a small, humorless chuckle, looking down at the table. “Yes.”

“They say you have fire in your veins,” you continued, watching him carefully. “That you’re reckless. Your past, your reputation, it’s all very cloak & dagger” Javi inhaled sharply but didn’t interrupt. You took a breath. “& I think they’re right.” You say almost Hilton your breath.

Javi’s jaw tensed. He nodded slowly, as if preparing for the inevitable. “I understand.” You stared at him, at the sadness settling in his eyes. & something inside you twisted. Because the thing was, You didn’t mind the fire. Javi was warmth & intensity & unfiltered passion. He wasn’t just some rich collector trying to get his way, he also want just part of a crime family, he was real, he was a man who hadn’t just made excuses for who he was. He felt everything deeply, & he wasn’t afraid to show it. & maybe that was dangerous. But you had never wanted something safe.

So, before he could retreat any further, you reached for him again. Your tiny delicate hand clutch his.His eyes snapped to yours, confusion flickering across his face as your fingers brushed over his.

You exhaled. “I don’t mind getting burnt.” Javi froze. For a single, charged second, he just stared at you, searching, waiting, making sure he had heard you right.

He moved.Javi surged forward, cupping your face in both hands, & kissed you fully. This man was not wasting time. This wasn’t the soft, tentative kiss from before. This was heat, passion, intention, desire. This was the slow burn finally igniting. You gasped against his lips, but then you were kissing him back just as deeply, your fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. He groaned softly into your mouth, his thumbs stroking your cheek, as if memorizing every inch of you. The world around you blurred, the fairy lights, the stars, the city skyline, none of it mattered. Something not to be shouted about & over the top like that painting.Just this. Just him.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, Javi rested his forehead against yours. His eyes were bright, his smile soft.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “You are going to be the death of me.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh. “I thought you liked a little danger.”

Javi grinned. “With you? Always.” he kissed you again. Javi’s lips moved against yours like he was starving for you.Not rushed. Not desperate. But deep. Slow. Deliberate. A need. A want. Like he had all the time in the world to kiss you like this. His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing along your jaw, while your own fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself. The heat between you was dizzying, each kiss pulling you deeper, stealing the breath from your lungs. When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered over yours, his breath warm. His fingers traced along your cheek, reverent, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

“Hermosa,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You are…” He exhaled, shaking his head with a small, helpless smile. “There are no words.”Your heart melted. Javi Gutiérrez, the man who could talk endlessly about anything, was speechless. You ran a hand through his hair, letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. He shivered, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was everything. You just sat there, fingers tangled in each other’s clothes, foreheads resting together, breathing in the moment.

“Look,” Javi whispered suddenly, glancing toward the sky. “A shooting star.” You followed his gaze, your lips twitching the second you spotted it. A small smirk forming.

“Javi,” you murmured, trying so hard not to laugh. “That’s not a shooting star. That’s a plane.”

Javi turned to you with wide, betrayed eyes. “No.”

“Yes.” He blinked. Then squinted back up at the sky.

“No.” You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’re near the airport, Javi. It’s a plane.”

He groaned dramatically, flopping back against the chair. “You have ruined the moment.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Have I?” Javi immediately sat back up, eyes locking onto yours, dark & hungry again.Ready to claim your lips once more

“…No,” he admitted, voice dropping. “You could never ruin anything.”Your breath hitched. A small sigh has enough time to escape before his lips were on yours again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. Javi kissed you like he needed you. Like he had been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. One hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing firmly against the fabric of your dress, while the other stayed cradling your face, keeping you right there & by god, you let him. Because if Javi Gutiérrez was fire, you were ready to burn.

The evening was naturally ending, pizza was mostly gone, the candles had burned lower, & the wine bottle sat empty between you. The night had been perfect, full of laughter, deep conversation, & stolen kisses that still tingled against your lips. This wasn’t a date, oooh not it was more.

When Javi kissed you again, his hands warm against your waist, you felt that familiar pull. The unspoken question lingering between you. You wanted him. You needed him. But not tonight.

You broke the kiss slowly, letting your forehead rest against his. Your fingers traced the edge of his collar, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. Javi let out a soft hum, his nose brushing against yours.

“Hermosa…”

You swallowed, closing your eyes for a second before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Not tonight.”

The words were quiet but firm.Javi blinked. Then, without hesitation, he nodded.

“Okay.” No protest. No disappointment. Just pure understanding. Your chest ached at how easy he made it. A man who understood consent & that no means no.You smiled softly, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

“Thank you.”

Javi exhaled, running a hand through his hair before flashing you a heart-melting smile. “You do not have to thank me, mi amor.” He stood, offering you his hand. “Come, let me at least make sure you sleep somewhere comfortable.”

You looked at him wondering where he was going to take you, he answered before you could ask. “I am simply ensuring you do not have to stumble home in those beautiful shoes of yours.” You laughed softly but didn’t argue as he led you to his suite. of course, it was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a sprawling living area, a bedroom that was definitely bigger than your entire apartment. Javi gestured toward a set of double doors.

“There is a guest room,” he said gently. “It is yours for the night.” You stared at him for a moment, taking in the way his usual dramatics had softened into something genuine.You stepped forward, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

He melted instantly.”Buenas noches, hermosa,” he murmured, watching as you disappeared into the guest room.As you closed the door behind you, you let out a slow breath. He really was different to any other man you had dated.

The early morning light streamed through the curtains as you slipped on your shoes as quietly as possible. You weren’t sneaking out, exactly. You just… didn’t want to make a big thing out of it. This wasn’t even a walk of shame. Last night had been perfect, warm, electric, something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time. & you wanted Javi. More than you cared to admit. But that was precisely why you needed to leave before things got too comfortable.

You reached for the door handle & you heard the noise. You froze. Turning slowly, you peered toward the kitchen area of the suite. Stood there was Javi, a ray of pure sunshine, barefoot, tousled hair an absolute mess, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Making coffee. You stared. How could you not.He glanced up, spotted you immediately, and grinned.

“Buenos días, hermosa.”

You quickly dragged your gaze away from the distracting sight of his entire body. “You, why are you awake?”

Javi chuckled, pouring coffee into two flasks. “You are not the only one who wakes up early, mi amor.” He smirked. “Though I did suspect you might try to escape.”

You folded your arms. “I wasn’t escaping.”

Javi raised a brow. “Mm. Of course not.” He slid a a flask toward you. “I’d ask you to stay for breakfast but I’m guessing that’s a no”. Javi watched you carefully, then softened. “I also wanted to say…” He ran a hand through his messy curls. “I know you have your own life. Your own way of doing things. But,” He inhaled deeply. “My security team can be available to you. If you ever need them.”

Your brows furrowed. “Javi…”

He shrugged, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself. “I just, I have the means to keep you safe, & I want to. No expectations. No obligations.” His voice dipped into something quieter. “Just… peace of mind.” Your heart ached, Because God, he really meant it. You stepped forward, reaching up to cup his jaw. Javi stilled immediately, lips parting slightly, as if shocked by your touch. Then, before you could overthink it, You kissed him.

It was slow, lingering, filled with unspoken words. Javi melted into it, one hand settling lightly on your waist, thumb grazing over your ribs like he needed to touch you.When you finally pulled back, his eyes were soft.

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

Javi exhaled, grinning. “That’s all I ask.”

You grabbed your coffee, taking a sip before stepping back toward the door. “I’ll see you soon, Javi.”

Javi leaned against the counter, completely unbothered by the fact that he had been chatting to you in just his boxers. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you walked out the door. He ached inside as he watched you go with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Three days had passed since that morning in Javi’s hotel suite. Three days of trying to focus on work, on normalcy, on anything that wasn’t the way Javi had looked at you over coffee. Or the way his lips had lingered on yours when you kissed him goodbye.

So when you walked into the gallery that morning, you needed a distraction. But instead, you stopped dead in your tracks.

The small white placard next to your favorite painting now read: SOLD.

Your stomach dropped. You had known it would happen eventually. The gallery wasn’t yours,the artwork wasn’t yours to keep you ere just a curator . But still, that piece had always felt different. Your own little escape. A deep purple sky, flecked with stars, brush strokes so delicate yet bold, like they had been painted with feeling. It now meant so much more after your own night with Javi, now it was gone. You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together, trying to shake off the disappointment.

As you eventually regained focus thefront doors swung open. The bell rang, in walked Javi. Grinning, eyes bright, moving with the confidence of a man who had made up his mind.

Your pulse skipped. “Javi—?”

Before you could say anything else, he declared,loudly, passionately, right in the middle of the gallery:

“I bought it for you.”

You blinked. “What?”

Javi gestured toward the painting. “The stars, hermosa! Your stars! I could not let anyone else have them.” His voice softened, his gaze locking onto yours. “Not when I knew where they truly belonged.”

Your breath hitched. “Javi…”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just slightly. “I remember the way you spoke about it. About the way the sky made you feel… & after our night… I wanted you to have it. Your own purple night sky.” Your heart ached in the best way. You should have been annoyed, should have told him that he couldn’t just buy things for you. But the way he was looking at you…Like he had never wanted anything more in his life. Like you were the masterpiece. You were his own art that made his heart dance.

You swallowed, searching his face. “Javi, you didn’t have to do that.”

His lips quirked up. “I know.” His voice was softer now, earnest. “But I wanted to.”You exhaled sharply, trying so hard to fight the warmth creeping up your spine.Javi tilted his head, studying you for a moment before smiling.

“I am in love with you.”

Your brain short-circuited. A short & simple declaration falling from His mouth. You were speechless.Javi laughed, delighted at your stunned silence. “Oh,” he teased, reaching for your hands. “You did not see that coming?”

You tried to breathe. “You…you just…”

“Yes, mi amor, I just declared my love in the middle of your gallery.” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, voice dropping to something gentler. “Because it is true.” Your chest felt tight. Deep down you felt it, too.

Slowly, cautiously, you stepped forward. “Javi.” He stilled, watching you like you were something fragile, like a statue in a gallery ready to shatter.But instead, you cupped his face, fingers threading into his curls.

“You are impossible,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Javi grinned. “But you love me for it?” You huffed, but then, before he could get too smug, you kissed him.Right there. In the middle of the gallery.this kiss was different. Not a hesitant first kiss. Not a stolen moment under the stars. This was a promise. When you finally pulled away, Javi was beaming.

“Does this mean I can keep buying you art?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Javi—”

“I promise I will try to be reasonable,” he said, still grinning. “But no guarantees.”

You laughed softly, pressing your forehead to his. Javi hummed, kissing you one more time. “As long as I get to keep you, mi amor, I will agree to anything.”

Your apartment was quiet. Soft moonlight poured through the window, casting a glow over the deep purples & blues of the painting now hanging above your dresser. You stood there, wrapped in nothing but his shirt, bare legs warm from the heat still lingering in the sheets. Filled with his seed, still sweaty from the love making, you feel tender but so admired & loved.

Javi had insisted on hanging it himself, positioning it just right, grinning the whole time like it was the greatest thing he’d ever done. Clearly a man who doesn’t usually do this kind of stuff. That was almost a bigger declaration of love than anything else he had done in the last 2 weeks. Now, days later, after everything, you finally let yourself breathe it in. The stars. The sky. The feeling it gave you. The same feeling Javi gave you. The warmth of his arms around you after passion which you had experienced each night since that grand declaration.

A soft hum broke your thoughts. Then warmth. Javi pressed himself against your back, his naked body molding to yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. His lips found the curve of your neck, leaving slow, lazy kisses along your skin.You shivered.

He smirked. “You got out of bed, mi amor.” His voice was low, thick with sleep, rasping against your ear like a secret. “I was devastated.”

You huffed a small laugh, leaning into him. “You were asleep.”

Javi nuzzled into your shoulder. “Mmm, yes. But then I woke up, & you were gone.” He squeezed your waist, his hands sliding over the fabric of his shirt on your body. “A tragedy, really.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at his word. “I only moved a couple of meters it’s not like I ran away”

Javi followed your gaze toward the painting, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Do you love it?”

You inhaled, letting your fingers trail over the edge of the frame.” Yes.”

Javi smiled against your skin, pressing another kiss to your neck. “Good. I never want you to be without the stars.”

You turned in his arms, tilting your head. “You’re very sentimental for a man who’s completely naked right now.” He’s semi hard.

Javi grinned. “You are wearing my shirt. I think I am allowed to be sentimental.” You laughed softly, reaching up to brush a hand through his messy curls. You sniffed him. When Javi smells of sex he smells good. Javi sighed into your touch, melting instantly, looking at you like you had just hung the stars in the sky yourself.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured.

You sigh & then the words escape your lips with no prompt. No over thinking.

“I love you.” It’s a whisper. Javi froze. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist. Slowly, slowly, his eyes searched yours, like he needed to make sure he heard you right. You beamed at him a slow, radiant smile. Javi surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep, so achingly tender, that you felt his love in every movement.Like he wanted to memorize you. Like he wanted to keep this moment forever. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “How long I have waited to hear you say that.”Your chest tightened. So you kissed him again. His hands slipped under your shirt around your back to gently squeeze your bum. You moan softly.

“Come back to bed Mi amor” he whimpered. You turn your head & look at the painting once more before you both crawl onto the bed & Javi take his shirt off you. Your bodies so familiar with each other already that it just works.

“Take me to the stars Javi”

[theunsinkableship1]

This is no ordinary LOVE.

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended

Amidst recent events and news, many in the Lukola fandom have started to reconsider their stance on this ship. While I understand the confusion these events have caused, I want to share why I still ship them and why I remain aboard.

Firstly, this is my first and only ship, and it will likely be the last one. I’ve witnessed many relationships unfold, I’ve been in relationships, attended beautiful weddings, and seen happy, healthy marriages and relationships endure the test of time. I’ve observed deep connections between people, but I’ve never seen anything quite like this. It might sound silly or even a bit offensive to the people in my life, but I’ve never seen love like what I see in Lukola, and I’ve fallen deeply for them.

Like many of us, I discovered Polin during the confinement days. I instantly loved their cute chemistry, as the friends-to-lovers trope is my favorite. I fell for Polin first, read the book, and was eager for their season. After the first season of Bridgerton, I started following  only Nicola, my favorite from the Derry Girls cast also. Then came Season 2, and I really liked Luke and the unique chemistry he and Nicola shared. There was something different about it, and I found myself watching their interviews. They were so adorable in "Amours ou Petits Fours" that I started following Luke Newton too.

I wasn’t shipping them yet because Luke was in a serious, real relationship at the time, one that was also worth rooting for. But when that ended, the idea of Nicola and Luke together began to grow in my heart. Their interactions were sweet, and their evident chemistry bled into everything they did together. I was a casual shipper until that photo of them after his play made me truly invested and hopeful. Then came the press tour in January, every interview, every interaction between them only strengthened what I was feeling. I fell for Lukola even harder.

What I saw, I can’t unsee. This has taken up a significant and unexpected place in my life. It feels different from anything else; I don’t usually follow celebrities this closely. I have always maintained a respectful distance and never invested myself like this. I’m not sure how I got here, but I know it’s not meaningless. There’s a reason for this pull, and while I don’t know exactly what that reason is, I believe it’s because I sense the love between them, it transcends the screen and radiates in my heart, deep and intensely beautiful.

I consciously joined the fandom to see if I was the only one feeling this way, and it’s clear I’m not. My perception of the reality might be altered, but I believe in what I see. Even if they choose to identify as friends, I believe that what they have is love.

Real, pure, and rare love, a powerful force that transcends time and circumstances. It isn’t rushed or forced; instead, it unfolds naturally, growing deeper as both people learn and grow together. This kind of love is built on genuine connection, mutual respect, and shared values, creating a bond that withstands the ups and downs of life.

Why does it matter? Because pure love brings out the best in each person, allowing them to be their true selves without fear of judgment. It’s not about grand gestures but the quiet, consistent presence that reassures and supports. This love matters because it’s authentic and unwavering, offering comfort and joy that can't be easily shaken.

Such love, though rare, finds its way when the time is right. It doesn't conform to external pressures or expectations; it simply exists, patient and steadfast. When allowed to flourish in its own time, this kind of love creates something beautiful and lasting, reminding us that the best things in life are often worth waiting for. As someone who hopes to see Lukola flourish, there’s a special kind of joy in watching two people whose bond transcends their characters on screen, finding connection and harmony in real life. It’s about witnessing moments of genuine affection, support, and camaraderie that hint at something deeper, something real.

This kind of love is worth cherishing and believing in because it reminds us of the beauty that exists in a World that can feel harsh and cold, in a reality that is disheartening and disappointing. It’s the unspoken looks, the shared laughter, and the way they uplift each other in subtle, bold and meaningful ways.

Hoping for Lukola to come to fruition isn’t just about a fandom fantasy, it’s about rooting for a connection that feels authentic, organic, and rare. It’s about believing that what we see is not just a projection of our hopes but a reflection of something real and beautiful that can grow stronger with time.

True love doesn’t need to rush; it will come to fruition when both people are ready to embrace it fully.

If we choose to stay in this Fandom, we’ll have to act very demurely and very mindfully. If this love is meant to be, it will find its way, blossoming when the time is right, and that is a story worth waiting for.